‘No problems. If you could get the BMW back down to London and lose it somewhere, one of my guys will get rid of the Merc. We’ll take care of the stiffs and we’re good to go. I think the crows will take care of the detritus the sniper rifle caused,’ he said in an amused tone. Tom realised that, despite the pristine good manners, Mike was a ruthless operator who had obviously organised clear-ups after similar incidents over the years.

A faint thump-thump of helicopter blades became audible from the north.

‘Okay, the clear-up team will be with you in minutes. They may be a little shy: they are all freelancers as well. I’ll call you back once things get sorted your end,’ Mike said, and he ended the call. Tom handed the satellite phone back to the sniper, who nodded his thanks.

Within a few minutes, a Sikorsky UH60 Black Hawk, painted in plain, dark green, tore into view over the treeline, its rotor-wash sending the branches into a fury as it came in low and fast.

Tom noted that the engine tone was identical to his coastguard taxi earlier, which meant it wouldn’t attract too much comment at that early hour; he wondered if that was a deliberate strategy.

The helicopter landed in the clearing and a civilian-clad man with a flat-top haircut and a pistol on his hip exited and jogged up to Tom. ‘Good morning, sir. I understand you have a casualty. We have a medic who can assist.’

‘Yes. My mother has had the tip of her finger removed.’ Tom said.

The man returned to the helicopter and a similarly dressed individual exited and jogged over, holding a compact rucksack.

‘Is your mom in the house? I will be able to help.’

‘Yes. Thanks, she’ll be in the kitchen.’ Tom said, watching as the man jogged off towards the house.

The other man spoke. ‘Can you direct us to where the items for removal are located?’

Tom explained the location of all the corpses and weaponry to the man, who nodded his understanding and turned to jog back to the helicopter, where hand signals summoned some unseen occupants. He was joined by three other men, all similarly dressed, one of whom was carrying several black bodybags. The whole appearance of the new arrivals was one of complete efficiency and practised unity of purpose. Tom wondered how many times similar things had happened in the UK.

Tom looked at the still-silent sniper and simply said, ‘Thanks, man.’ There was real gratitude in his voice.

The man just smiled widely, turned on his heels, and jogged to the helicopter, his job done.