A distant siren seemed to spook the four men. A decision made, Martin and his cohorts got back in the Audi and sped off. Motorcycle man paused for a moment, looking at the phone in his hand before pocketing it, replacing his helmet, and roaring off. Tom photographed the retreating motorbike, capturing the number plate as it disappeared down the Broadway.

Interestingly, no one took any notice of the payphone Tom had used. That could have been an indication that Neil Wilkinson wasn’t involved, although he’d need more conclusive evidence to be sure.

Tom smiled to himself. Putting his head above the parapet had been worth it: photos of four of his pursuers and registration numbers for two vehicles.

14

Michael Adebayo sat in his office in Ilford with his brother, Emmanuel. The atmosphere had been thick with tension ever since they received the call from Zjelko Branko. A dense fug of cigarette smoke hung in the air as both men chain-smoked in a forlorn attempt to dissipate the stress.

As soon as he’d heard about the situation with the undercover cop, Zjelko had taken charge, coming over to Adebayo’s office. He was an overpowering character and, frankly, he terrified Michael. He had pale blue, ice-cold eyes that barely concealed the venom from within. Michael had heard all about his past as a suspected Balkan war criminal: a high-class jewel thief with a direct line into the Serbian Mafia, a terrifying thug who had accepted Adebayo’s contract to silence Novak.

‘One hundred thousand pounds, Michael,’ Zjelko had said. ‘No one else will be able to do it. We have a tame senior cop who has access to all the databases, banks, phones, the lot. Only we can find the bastard and silence him for good. Good people don’t come cheap and the cop isn’t cheap; neither are we,’ he had said with a sneer. ‘If you’d have kept your cock in your pants, you wouldn’t be in this situation, would you?’

Adebayo had said nothing, just looked at his brother who met his glance evenly.

‘If you find him and silence him and get me the SD card, then £100k is okay; just do it quick.’

That was yesterday, and they’d just received a call from Branko.

‘He’s just surfaced in Ealing. Used his credit card and phone in a café. We’re going after him now.’

Adebayo couldn’t hide his excitement.

‘Once he’s gone and we have the card, then we’re home and dry. Just the bitch to deal with—and she’ll say fuck-all, she’ll be so scared!’ he said animatedly to his taciturn brother.

An hour later, another call came in from Branko.