He could hear her in his head and knew she’d lose her shit when she did find out. He knew how she felt about such draconian tactics. It was the worst kind of stereotyping: sending in the heavies to the underprivileged slum to weed out the baddies. But sometimes the rulebook didn’t work, and secretly Will knew that his colleagues in riot and population control, as well as those in regular squad cars, wanted nothing more than to get their hands dirty getting revenge for countless victims. They’d all had enough. Enough of waiting around for the government to pour extra resources into ordinary policing. Enough of criminals walking free due to technicalities. Enough of estates like Beacon being no-go areas.

As he walked towards the depot, he felt something inside stir: a primeval need to seek justice. When he walked in and saw the set-up before him – officers kitting up in armour, checking helmets, discussing armed-response channels – and heard the low-level hum of anticipation, he knew he was amongst like-minded individuals.

They were briefed at 4 p.m. It was already dark. Raids were usually carried out either before dawn or after dusk, to exploit the element of surprise. They listened to last-minute instructions and checked equipment. Detectives often had to prepare for dangerous exchanges, and their training in basic defence weaponry had to be kept up to date. Will weighed the heavy truncheon in his hand. It felt good.

He looked around and wondered where Superintendent Ormond had got the manpower from so quickly. He was a man on a mission; everyone knew that he had a personal interest in the case. Well, in as much as he rubbed shoulders with the wealthy Watsons. He had already made it clear that Keira Bradley wasn’t the motivator here. That was the irony, and Will knew it. It had taken the death of a rich white middle-class woman to stoke the fire.

The atmosphere was testosterone-charged, though Will spotted a decent number of women. They had the same look about them: hunger. He smiled. He’d done the right thing. He thought about his boss and how she might react when she heard the news, and discovered that he’d been involved, but he had his story ready. He’d say they’d needed as much manpower as possible, and that it was a direct order from the supervising officer. It bugged him that Ormond hadn’t involved the investigating team; it should be a joint operation. But he knew why the super wanted to act alone: because his ego was getting the better of him and Kelly Porter saw straight through it. He also knew that, of anyone on the force, Kelly would discern the real motivation behind Ormond’s fervour to get the case closed quickly.