The warehouseman scrabbled on his back, away from Owen. Owen followed him, bending down to wave the flaming Zippo closer to his legs. The warehouseman backed against the wall of the office, his hands in front of his face. ‘I’m not sure how close I can get before you go up in flames,’ said Owen. ‘The Intel chips,’ he hissed. ‘Where are they?’

‘I’ll have to check the computer,’ stammered the warehouseman. A dark stain spread down his left trouser leg.

Owen clicked the Zippo shut, grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to the office door. Verity followed. The earpiece buzzed and crackled. There’d been a car crash outside the departures terminal. Two minicabs had collided and the drivers were fighting. Verity grinned under his mask. The more distractions, the better.

Owen threw the warehouseman into the office. ‘You’ve got ten seconds, then it’s barbecue time,’ he snarled. He pushed him down on to a swivel chair.

The man’s hands trembled over the keyboard. ‘I have to think,’ he said. ‘I’m only the n-n-night man.’

‘Remember this,’ said Owen, lighting the Zippo again and waving the flame close to the man’s face.

The warehouseman shrieked. ‘Okay, okay, wait!’ He stabbed at the keyboard. ‘I’ve got it.’ He wiped his sweating forehead with the arm of his coat. ‘Row G. Section Six. Twelve b-b-boxes.’

Verity turned to the office door. ‘Fred, Doug!’ he called. ‘Row G. Section Six.’ The earpiece buzzed. Despite the clean PNC check, the Arab was being taken into custody.

Owen closed the Zippo and used duct tape to tie the warehouseman to the chair. ‘I d-d-did what you wanted, d-d-didn’t I?’ asked the man fearfully. Owen slapped a piece of tape across his mouth.

Verity pointed at Owen. ‘Tell Harry to get the minibus ready,’ he said, then jogged towards Row G.

‘I’ll do it,’ said Macdonald.

Verity stopped in his tracks. He pointed a gloved finger at Macdonald. ‘I said him. If I’d wanted you to do it I’d have told you.’ He pointed at Owen. ‘Do it!’ he shouted. Then to Macdonald: ‘You stay with me where I can keep my eye on you.’ He jogged down the centre aisle, Macdonald and the Glaswegian following him while Owen ran towards the main door.

Doug was already sitting at the controls of a fork-lift truck. ‘Here they are.’ Fred gestured at a pallet loaded with cardboard boxes.

‘Come on, get them loaded and let’s get out of here!’ yelled Verity. The boxes contained the latest Pentium chips from the States. According to Verity’s man on the west coast, there were twenty-four boxes in the shipment worth almost a million pounds, wholesale.