Tom couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t worried; it was definitely a police team, as he recognised the tactics, and it was obvious who had put them onto him. He stood suddenly and made his way to the door, watching the barely-concealed look of alarm on his observer’s face. At the very last second, Tom diverted and sat down on the chair opposite North Face.

‘Hello,’ Tom said to the young officer with a smile. Alarm flashed across the man’s face as he stuttered a greeting.

‘Listen, mate,’ said Tom in a friendly, non-confrontational voice. ‘You lot really need to work on your tactics and tradecraft. I’m not being too critical as I reckon you’re not long qualified. Why are you following me?’

‘Errm, I’m just having a coffee…’ the officer stuttered in a Midlands accent.

‘Look, I don’t have time for this. I’m really fucking busy. Now, can you bugger off and leave me alone before I make a really big scene and publicly blow-out all of your foot units outside, starting with your man in the grey hoodie over the road looking into the dress shop window.’ He grinned as the man’s eyes flitted to his colleague outside. ‘Now you’ve not done too much wrong, but I am very good at this; I’ve been doing it for years. I’m assuming Buster sorted this to protect me, but can you please piss off and tell him to come back and see me, right now. Tell him I’ll buy him a tea.’

The man hesitated just a second and Tom could almost see the cogs turning.

‘Go on: chop-chop,’ said Tom, with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

Clearly defeated, the officer stood up and left the coffee shop, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he did so.

About ten minutes later, Buster sat down with a sigh in the chair the surveillance officer had recently vacated, a rueful grin on his face.

‘Why?’ asked Tom.

‘Because we’re all worried you’re going to get topped. My boss wouldn’t let you just walk away, mate. I’m sorry.’

Tom was unable to be angry at his old friend. He accepted that he was only doing what he thought was right; Buster was the most honest person he knew, despite all the bluster, and it would have almost killed him to go behind his back.

‘They’re a shit surveillance team. Who trained them?’ Tom asked.

‘They are a new one. Recruited from all over so we have some unknown faces on the teams. I must admit they are a bit green.’

‘They are shite. Don’t use them against proper villains. You managed to find anything out about Taylor yet?’ Tom asked.

‘Fuck me, mate,’ said Buster. ‘We only met twenty minutes ago!’