He proffered the familiar Metropolitan Police warrant card with its standard-issue leather wallet and metal crest with braille underneath. Tom looked closely at the card: it looked brand new, the leather wallet still stiff, the plastic photocard inside shiny and unmarked. Looking at the warrant number Tom was able to estimate that the DS had a little more service than him. The name read ‘Detective Sergeant Martin Green’ and bore the familiar logo and embossed signature of the current Commissioner.

Tom took a long look at the man, noting the strong features and prominent forehead. Familiarity niggled.

‘Have we met before?’ Suspicion prickled in Tom’s mind.

‘I don’t think so. Listen, you should come with me. We don’t think it’s safe here and it may be that Holborn is the source of the leak. My car is nearby and we have a safe house we can get to quickly. I can fill you in on what we know when we get there.’ The man spoke quickly, and Tom thought he detected some urgency: or was it nervousness?

‘I’m supposed to see the Borough Commander. Neil Wilkinson made it clear.’

‘Change of plan. There’s new intelligence from Ivan that the threat is imminent. Come on, I’ll explain in the car. Neil is coming to the safe house too.’

The man turned as if to go. Tom hesitated, conflicted. He was suspicious, but he couldn’t put his finger on entirely why. How else would the DS know he had been heading there if not from Neil?

‘Okay, let’s go then.’

They walked side-by-side along Emerald Street towards Rugby Street.

‘You’re definitely familiar, Martin,’ said Tom as they walked. ‘Were you on my promotion course last year?’

‘No. I’ve been a DS for a few years now. I don’t think we know each other.’

Tom’s mind began to work systematically. The warrant card was brand new, as in just issued; the poor quality of the materials used in the cards meant they always deteriorated quickly. Something wasn’t right: the accent wasn’t right, he didn’t look right. Tom got a sinking feeling in his gut, aware he may have made a big mistake.

‘Where are you based, Martin?’

‘At the Yard,’ the man replied, keeping his gaze straight ahead. ‘But I came here straight from home on a call-out. Busy day, eh?’ He offered a slight but uncertain smile.

Tom cast his mind back to the man’s brand-new warrant card, the photograph of the smartly dressed man, in a blue suit and grey tie.

Blue suit... grey tie... The same blue suit and grey tie the man was wearing right now.

*

Martin produced a car key from his trouser pocket as they approached a blue Audi Q5 parked on Emerald Street by the dead end, unlocking the car with the remote.

‘We’ll get your car later, once you’re out of the way.’