Hearst nodded. ‘OK then.’ As they headed out together, Hearst brought Lee up to date. ‘We have seven vans, each with two full cages, sitting in the car park waiting to be processed. We’re having to double up in the cells, but what the hell. We’ve got a couple of runners, who we’re following towards London. But between us and the Met, we’ll scoop them up.’

‘Who are the runners?’ Lee asked.

‘The Barros,’ Hearst replied. ‘And if I were a suspicious type, I might suspect that they planned it this way.’ Lee’s own suspicions again turned to Jack. His gut instinct simply would not let go of the idea that Jack was on the wrong side, or maybe just playing both sides.

Hearst could practically read Lee’s mind. ‘I check out the pedigree of everyone I let into my station, DI Lee. Including you and DI Mason. Jack Warr is from good stock. But you know how these London boys are: they don’t know the meaning of the word diplomacy. Come on, I need a senior officer to get the ball rolling with these interviews.’

*

Ridley’s rolling update to Jack took a serious turn for the worst. ‘Hang on, Jack, something’s coming through.’ Jack waited, his heartbeat quickening. ‘Jesus Christ. Jack, you there? Just got a report of a hijacked bike. The rider’s dead.’ Jack had never heard Ridley sound so despondent.

Jack let out a breath. ‘That’s Alberto. It has to be.’

‘It’s a sky-blue Ducati Panigale,’ Ridley continued in a subdued tone. ‘We’re looking out for it now.’

‘He’s heading for De Voe,’ Jack said. ‘He knows De Voe’s betrayed him, because I told him.’

‘What about Betina?’ Ridley asked.

‘No, she’s smarter than that. She’ll be . . . she told me when I was at the shop, sir! She said she’s heading for Argentina. If that was the truth, then she’s going to Heathrow! Sir, you stop Betina; I’ll get Alberto.’

On the ground, Ridley now started making his way towards Betina, whilst Bjarne was trying to gain permission to land at the London Helipad in Battersea.

Then another message on the radio: ‘Ducati abandoned near Ealing Broadway Underground station. I repeat, Ducati abandoned near Ealing Broadway.’ Where was the nearest area car? Jack wondered frantically. Was anyone on the ground in Ealing? He knew that as soon as Alberto went underground, they could lose him – CCTV or not.

Jack turned to Bjarne, desperate to get his hands on the man who had tried to kill him. ‘Our target’s going to jump on the District Line and head straight for Chelsea.

Bjarne frowned. ‘Battersea Helipad is the best I can do, mate. That’ll put you a fifteen-minute run away from Battersea Bridge.’