Tom fed a few coins into the slot and dialled a number from memory. The receiver emitted several clicks before transferring to a long, high-pitched ringtone. After a few rings it was answered with a familiar Californian drawl. ‘Hello?’

Tom recognised the voice straight away as Mike Brogan, memories returning of their time in Iraq as he pictured the handsome, tanned face.

‘Mike?’

‘Yeah, who’s this?’

‘It’s Tom. Tom Novak.’

‘Tom, my man, where you been? I’ve not seen you for like three years and you call now. Everything okay?’

‘Not really, mate. You remember you mentioned if ever I needed a favour? Well, I need one now. Badly.’ Tom was surprised at the slight hint of emotion in his own voice.

‘Where are you calling from, Tom?’

‘I’m in a pub on a payphone,’ said Tom, ‘I needed to get off the street.’

There was a slight pause that seemed an eternity.

‘I’ll call you on this number in ten minutes. Stay there and stay outta sight,’ said Mike in a firm, calm voice before hanging up.

Tom returned to his beer at the table closest to the phone. He sat and took a long pull on the cold lager; the liquid was soothing in the way that only cheap lager could be, calming his parched throat.

He thought through the events of the past two days. It was clear that someone with police or other law enforcement resources was tracking him to recover the SD card and probably to silence him for good. The suppressed Sig was good enough evidence for that, given that it was a perfect assassin’s weapon. Martin had said enough for Tom to realise that the threat emanated from Adebayo. The question was: who was tracking him? He needed more information, but who could he trust? A wave of loneliness swept over him as the reality of his situation hit home.

That all just reinforced the fact that he needed help from someone who had access to all of the intelligence systems that weren’t available to him now he’d gone dark.

After a few minutes, Tom returned to the payphone to wait for Mike’s call.

Exactly ten minutes since he had ended the call, the phone rang again.

Tom picked it up. ‘Mike?’

‘Sure, buddy… I’ve checked this number out; it’s safe for a short time and we’ve put an electronic disruption around it. Anyone listening wouldn’t hear shit, man. But we only have five minutes, max.’