He wasn’t worried about Branko; Tom was the hunter now, not Zjelko Branko, so he had felt safe to go home and sleep in his own bed.

He finally got home at eight o’clock, clutching a takeaway curry which he ate sitting at his breakfast bar, relishing the spicy and delicious meal and washing it down with a bottle of beer. He’d had a long, hot shower to get rid of all the grime and sweat of the preceding hours and climbed into his bed, where he’d slept like a baby.

Turning all the events over in his mind the next morning, he surmised that he was clean, with nothing to link him to the events in Scotland. The job was not over yet though, as thoughts of Simon Taylor and his cohorts flared in his mind.

He got out of bed and dressed in a plain white T-shirt and blue jeans. The bruise on his chest was beginning to bloom in varying colours. He went through to the kitchen where he prepared himself coffee and toast while thinking about his next move.

Picking up his burner phone he dialled Pet. She answered immediately.

‘You took your time, Detective. You wait until now to speak to me?’

‘Yeah, I know. I didn’t want to use the burner phone outside of London and I was too knackered when I got home.’

‘You’re at your apartment?’ she asked incredulously.

‘I wanted my own bed. There’s only one Branko left and Adebayo’s out of the country.’

‘Branko has left the country as well; I just pinged his phone in France. I think he ran as soon as he realised what had happened. He used one of his cards to buy a Eurostar ticket. I imagine he’s on his way back to Serbia.’

Tom turned this over in his mind. For the moment, he was happy to have Branko out of his hair; he could wait. His priority was Taylor and the dirty, corrupt bastards he’d been working with.

‘So, what’s your next move?’ Pet asked.

‘Anything new on Taylor and the others?’ Tom asked, ignoring the question.

‘Taylor was speaking to Branko during the night: no new texts or WhatsApp messages. He’s hitting cell masts at the police station as far as I can see. No other contact with anyone. I doubt Branko would tell him he was fleeing.’

That made sense: he couldn’t see why Branko would tell a serving police officer, no matter how corrupt, what his plans were. The whole criminal network was shattered, but that didn’t mean he could stop: he was just beginning.

‘My priority is to get evidence we can use against them. I want them in jail.’

‘How do you propose you do that, Detective? Everything you have so far you can’t use because of its slightly irregular source.’