He was not a habitual suit wearer; despite the CID dress code, he normally found an excuse not to dress smartly, much to the chagrin of his boss. He was amazed that for less than fifty pounds he’d purchased full business-wear. It was not Savile Row but he didn’t think anyone would be looking that hard.

Having paid, he made his way to the toilets and slipped into the disabled cubicle. He stripped to the waist, lathered and shaved his face clean, and then changed into the newly acquired suit, shirt and tie.

He then headed to the Turkish barber shop on the small parade close by for a short-back-and-sides. As the silently scowling barber went about his work, Tom watched the transformation before his very eyes. From his inside pocket he produced a pair of clear glasses he’d retrieved from his grab-bag, put them on, and checked himself in the mirror. He couldn’t have looked more different from the slightly scruffy, bearded man of just an hour before.

The art of disguise is not radical: just don’t be what people are looking for and your disguise is complete.

His haircut complete, Tom made his way to the Tube station and used his pre-paid Oyster card to beep through the barrier. The card was fully cash-paid, with no audit trail: unlike the police issue card that left a big computer footprint. To the letter he was using perfect tradecraft, employing the military mantra of the seven Ps: Prior Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss-Poor Performance.

*

He took the underground to Ealing Broadway, a typical busy suburban London shopping area which was not too swamped by CCTV.

He located a Cash Converters store near the shopping centre where, for £100 cash, he purchased a second-hand Sony digital SLR camera with a 300mm zoom lens thrown in. It was an old-style model but would be more than adequate for the job he had in mind. Even more conveniently, the guy behind the counter was happy to throw in the scruffy-looking shoulder bag which the items were displayed in.

He made his way to the Town Hall: a grand, Grade II listed building set back away from the main road. It had lots of meeting rooms and dining suites, as well as the usual council facilities and registry functions. More importantly for Tom, it had several meeting rooms at the front of the building overlooking the Broadway. He had once used them as an observation point when involved in a manhunt for a murder suspect.

He approached the receptionist who greeted him warmly, produced his warrant card and, flashing his most charming smile, said, ‘Hi, I’m DS Novak; I wonder if I could just borrow one of your front-facing meeting rooms for an hour or so. We are waiting for a suspect to show up at the pub over the road. I’ll be discreet and won’t get in anyone’s way.’