His journey took longer than normal owing to the anti-surveillance tactics he used. He circumnavigated every roundabout fully once before exiting. He stopped and observed frequently and practised the old technique of ‘blocking’: leaving the main routes and driving around residential blocks repeatedly, looking for any followers. By the time he got to Shepherds Bush he was sure he hadn’t been followed.

He needed to lose his car. He was aware that whoever was feeding the Brankos information could, with just one phone call, have his car followed using automatic number plate recognition. He drove off the A40 towards Shepherds Bush and into the NCP car park right by the Empire Theatre, where he parked it on the first floor. Putting his car in a pay-on-exit car park would ensure it would be safe and unnoticed, unlike if it was left on the street. Parking enforcement in London was so stringent that it wouldn’t last a day without getting towed. Using a car park would also add to any confusion of those tracking him.

He picked up his grab-bag containing the liberated Sig and other items taken from Martin Green and made his way out onto Wood Lane.

He hailed a black cab and asked the sullen driver to take him to Hillingdon Station, just off the A40. He wanted to blur his trail a little further before holing up somewhere.

Traffic was busy but not solid, so the trip took about forty minutes in almost total silence, which Tom was thankful for. The last thing he needed was the archetypal London cabbie talking non-stop. As they drove, he dug out the leather wallet he had taken from his attacker. It contained a fat wad of bank notes, a credit card in the name of J Vele, and a driving licence in the name of Martin Green.

Tom was no forgery expert, but he’d received some input from the Home Office experts at the beginning of an undercover forgery investigation into fake documents in the past. He studied the card and noted that the ink quality looked faded and that the corners of the cards were slightly unevenly cut. Genuine driving licences were machine cut, giving perfectly curved corners. That was puzzling; an apparently genuine warrant card with a forged driving licence, both produced that day if the suit was anything to go by. His puzzlement began to shift to concern as he realised the resources his enemies seemed to have access to. He couldn’t rule out that his phone was being intercepted, which would give away his exact location. At the very least, they could be tracking his position and direction of travel by using the cell sites as his and Martin’s phones tried to connect with the masts as he passed. Both phones would have to remain in airplane mode until he was more prepared.