Tom set off, keeping well within the speed limits, fully aware that he was carrying an illegal firearm. He also had no idea if the Sig had been used before, which could make life difficult if he was found in possession of it and it had been used in a murder. Forensic testing on firearms was of such high quality that it only needed one shell casing or intact bullet to link a crime conclusively to an individual weapon.

He certainly didn’t need to be getting arrested at that particular moment, not with whoever was feeding information to Branko and Adebayo still somewhere out there. At the very least, he’d be staring at a charge of unlawful possession of an illegal firearm, which could again land him in jail. The realities and seriousness of his situation threatened to overwhelm him again, but he quickly shook it off, the memory of what Branko had done to his family overtaking any doubts. He would see it through and bring those people down, no matter what the cost.

‘He’s still static at Melrose.’ Pet’s lightly-accented voice cut through his ruminations.

‘That’s good: at least we know he’s close by. When we get there, I’ll approach the meeting place and you take up a position and keep an eye open. If you see anyone else approaching, send me a text to the burner phone.’

‘No problemo.’ Pet touched a finger to her brow in a mock salute. ‘Have you worked out what you’re going to do once you catch up with these guys?’

‘You really want to know?’

‘Maybe not.’

‘I have to find out who the bent cops are first. After that, we’ll see.’

‘Do what makes you happy, Tom. Are you sure that killing Branko will make you happy?’

Tom didn’t answer. He just continued driving in silence, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

*

They pulled up at the side of the road a short while later and took up a position with a view of the dimly-lit playground and reasonable visibility to the benches. They had good cover between a parked van and a car about a hundred metres from the meeting point. Tom switched off the engine and extinguished the headlights.

‘What now?’ asked Pet.

Tom looked at his watch: fifteen-minutes-to-midnight.

‘We wait until he shows, so I can make sure he’s alone.’

‘Classic tradecraft, Detective. Always arrive before the informant.’

‘What kind of a consultant are you?’

‘Just an IT geek, Detective. Just IT, but I’ve hung with enough spooks to know about agent tradecraft.’ She looked at her iPad. ‘He’s not moved. Still in the address.’

Tom shrugged. ‘It’s still early, and he’s only five minutes away.’