Tom crossed the road and re-entered the Town Hall, smiling at the receptionist as he passed her on his way to the lifts. Making his way up to the first floor, he unlocked room 125 and entered a small meeting room, which had a large central table and a spider conference-call phone in the middle. The projector and big screen marked the room’s purpose as the home of many a pointless meeting.

He went to the window and surveyed the scene in front of him about 100 yards away. He had a perfect view of the café and the phone boxes. Now he just had to wait.

*

He didn’t have to wait long.

He recognised the blue Audi Q5 pulling up outside the café, clearly unconcerned about traffic wardens, as the one Martin Green had tried to force him into.

He raised the camera and began snapping away as he saw ‘Martin’ leaving the driver’s seat, a hard look on his face. He was joined on the pavement by two other males, both Slav-looking with jutting cheekbones. One had short, cropped, blond hair; the other collar-length and untidy hair. Both looked lean and had a military bearing. Tom continued to snap away as they entered the café three abreast, looking as tough as possible.

Tom checked the photos he’d taken in full zoom, giving him good headshots of all three men. Other than Martin, the men were not familiar. He noted the registration of the Audi: brand new and, he guessed, rented.

While the three were out of sight in the café, a large, powerful, motorbike arrived in the front of the café and mounted the pavement close to the Audi. The leather-clad rider dismounted and removed his helmet, revealing a middle-aged man with cropped blond hair and a rough Slavic face. Even at that distance Tom saw the piercing blue eyes. He zoomed the camera in and snapped a full-face shot. He paused, a flicker of recognition itching a corner of his brain as he lowered the camera and watched the man surveying the scene in front of him. At one point it seemed to Tom that the man was staring straight at him, those pale blue eyes impassive and tinged with cruelty.

His reverie was broken when the three men came out of the café and joined motorbike man on the pavement for a short conversation. Motorbike man seemed to be the boss; the body language of the others was certainly deferential as he barked orders at them. Motorbike man then produced a mobile phone from his pocket and spoke on it for a minute while the others stood by, scanning the area carefully.