I wait for Thistle to tell him I’m not a real agent. She doesn’t.

‘Anyone in or out?’ she asks.

The other cop speaks up. ‘No, ma’am. And no lights on or off during the night. If Luxford’s in there, he’s keeping his head down.’

‘Someone else watching the other side?’

‘The house backs onto a big fence. No gate. You’d have to be Spiderman to get over it. And we’d see him from here when he reached the top.’

I notice an open garbage bag on the back seat, half full of coffee cups and Chinese takeaway boxes. These guys have been here at least twelve hours.

‘Well, we’re about to find out,’ Thistle is saying. ‘Our search warrant just came through. You ready?’

‘You bet,’ the woman says.

The man nods. ‘Yep. Hey, you’re Thistle, right?’

‘That’s me,’ Thistle says. ‘This is Blake.’

‘I’m Terracini,’ the man says. ‘She’s Albrecht. Are you carrying?’

‘I am,’ Thistle says. She draws back her jacket to reveal the Beretta on her hip. ‘Blake isn’t.’

‘If Luxford pulls a gun, are you willing to shoot?’

Sounds like Terracini has heard about Thistle’s lawsuit.

Thistle’s eyes narrow. ‘I am.’

‘I’ll go in first,’ I say. ‘Luxford might panic if he sees a gun.’

I’m trying to relax Terracini by showing that I trust Thistle. Doesn’t look like it’s working.

‘No,’ Thistle says. ‘I’ll go first, then you. Albrecht and Terracini will cover us. Are we good?’

Terracini and Albrecht exchange a glance.

‘That works,’ Albrecht says.

‘Okay. Let’s do it.’

We all walk up the path to the front door. The windows are dark, curtains closed, the corners cobwebbed. A sign above the doorbell says NO DOOR-TO-DOOR SALES. Thistle rings the bell.

No answer.

After a long, tense moment, Thistle nods to Albrecht.

With three sharp taps from a hammer and chisel, Albrecht separates the security mesh from the metal frame. Then she reaches through the gap and disengages the deadbolt.

The wooden door behind isn’t locked. Gun raised, Thistle enters the house, as fast and precise as a wary school of fish. I follow.

We clear the hall quickly, then move on to the main living area. Thick carpet deadens most of the sound, and the windows are double glazed, so there’s no traffic noise. The house is smaller than it looked from outside, and more modern. My guess is it was built fifty years ago, and the interior has been substantially renovated in the last five. The white-blue paint still looks fresh. There’s a big TV, a surround sound system and a coffee table with too many remotes lined up on it. When we get to the kitchen, there are signs that the renovators stopped here. Faded linoleum floor, lacy curtains on the windows, an oven with coil-shaped hotplates on top.