‘Do you have a cover story you can use?’

She nodded. She knew the drill. Her cover story was her responsibility. Quite often, there was never any need to resort to it, as a lot of people just weren’t that concerned with hearing about your life. But then, other times, when infiltrating a criminal organisation, you encountered those who wanted to know every conceivable detail about you. So it was always best to have a solid background explanation to hand. ‘What about my exit from the prison when the operation’s over?’ she asked.

‘We’ll find a reason to have you “transferred” to another prison, so it’ll seem realistic when you suddenly have to leave. No one will ever need to know that you were a police officer.’

She nodded in approval.

‘We’ve done our best to keep it out of the news that Alice was an undercover police officer,’ he said. ‘To all intents and purposes, she was just an inmate who got murdered. That’s not to say that someone, somewhere in the prison, might have been aware of her true identity, which could be the reason she got killed. Either way, this time we don’t want to take any chances. So, to keep security really tight, I’ll be working directly as your handler. No one in the prison, not even the Governor, will know who you are. We can’t risk any kind of leak, especially considering that you’ll have no backup whatsoever.’

Part of what she liked about undercover work was not having someone looking over your shoulder, telling you what to do all the time. She liked the freedom of working on her own. Conversely, it meant that there was often no one to fall back on if things took a turn for the worse. You had to rely on your initiative and be able to think on your feet, and that could be scary, but it could also be exhilarating.

‘How will I contact you?’ she asked.

‘I’ll give you a number that you can call me on. It’ll be routed through to the switchboard here. Once you get through to Rita, she’ll put you through to me.’

In a soundproofed room off to one side of the office was the switchboard, operated by a civilian police worker called Rita. A former flight attendant from Essex who was now in her early fifties, she sounded like a generic secretary with her nasal sing-song voice and her brisk efficient tone. But her role was crucial, for the switchboard was the primary point of contact for all the different undercover police officers who were operating at any given time. When a call came through, Rita would answer with the name of whatever false company or organisation had been set up to provide a cover for that particular officer.

‘Is that how it worked with Alice?’

‘That’s how it was supposed to work with Alice. But, being Alice, she managed to get hold of a mobile phone, even though they’re illegal inside.’