‘I suspect Lower Spurting will be equally unimpressed with you,’ said Ellis, drily. ‘Right – the three of you – check you have everything you need – although if you don’t it’s too late now – and get out there and apprehend Henry Plimpton before he does any serious damage. The clean-up crew will be one hour behind you. Make sure you have everything ready for them.’

Lockland’s head swivelled. ‘You’re not coming with us, sir?’

He shook his head. ‘Perfectly straightforward assignment. North and I will monitor your progress from here.’

‘Where are the clean-up crew?’

‘Discreetly waiting until called for.’

‘So which of us is team leader?’ demanded Parrish. The tone of his voice said there could be only one possible choice.

Ellis surveyed them silently. The obvious choice was Parrish. Lockland had done well but needed to be brought on gradually. Let her have her small success today and build on it again tomorrow. And if he selected Farrell, did he lay himself open to charges of favouritism because he’d once been his mentor? Which only left Parrish.

He surveyed his team. ‘Do we have a volunteer?’

As he suspected, only one person was willing.

‘Very well, Mr Parrish. Let’s see what you make of this one.’ He raised his voice a little. ‘Mr Parrish is in charge until I say otherwise.’ He held Parrish’s eyes for a moment, saw nothing but overconfidence and self-assurance there, and sighed.

Parrish turned to his team, full of importance. ‘OK, people – safety check. Vests?’

‘Yes,’ said Jane.

Farrell nodded.

Parrish scowled at him. ‘I can’t hear you.’

Farrell nodded more firmly.

Both Ellis and North were very careful not to catch each other’s eye.

‘Weapons?’

More nods.

‘Cuffs? Batons? Liquid string?’

They nodded, patting their utility belts from which their equipment hung. Once, long ago, someone had referred to this useful piece of equipment as Batman’s utility belt and the name had stuck.

‘Coms check.’

‘Check,’ said Lockland, obediently.

Farrell nodded.

Parrish gritted his teeth. ‘Don’t make it a personal challenge to get you to speak.’

They regarded each other for a moment and then Farrell said, ‘Check.’

Both Farrell and Lockland tightened their chinstraps. Parrish had declined a helmet. Too uncool for words, apparently. Ellis had let it go. Parrish would change his mind soon enough when he got the first brick round his ear, and if he survived that, then he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Ellis surveyed his team. Lockland tightly buttoned up, Farrell solidly silent. And Parrish, bright-eyed and cocky. Doing things his way. The next few hours were going to be interesting.