‘It’ll be a tight squeeze. Seven of us in the wagon.’

‘The big bastard goes in the boot. No other way.’

Mallet stomped over to the balcony door and wrenched it open. Lang shot up from his chair. The faint drone of city noise drifted up from the streets far below.

‘Inside,’ Mallet ordered him.

Lang slid past him and stepped back into the living room. He glanced at Seguma, then slid his gaze across to Mallet. ‘What’s the news with my deal? It’s taking fucking ages.’

‘I’m discussing it with Six now. They’re about to sign off on it.’ He smiled thinly.

‘Then what?’

‘You’ll travel with the rest of us to the airport. Some other poor sod will escort you back to London. Now wait here like a good boy.’

Mallet looked over at Webb, his face scrunched in thought. ‘You’ll have to change out of those clothes. Grab some of Lang’s gear. Whatever you can find that broadly fits. Where’s your courier kit?’ he asked Bowman.

‘Lang’s closet.’

‘Grab it. The document wallet too. Make sure we leave nothing behind. Not a trace, do you hear? I want everything removed, right down to the last skin cell.’

‘Why? What’s the big deal?’

Mallet didn’t answer. His phone hummed. He stepped outside, pulled the balcony door shut and leaned against the railing as he took the call. Bowman and Webb left Casey on guard duty and darted out of the living room. They jogged over to the master bedroom, ducked into the walk-in closet. Webb changed out of his courier kit and threw on a striped shirt, cream jacket and a baseball cap with the crest of an East London football team on the front. Bowman stuffed their discarded gear into a Herschel holdall, trotted back down to the hall, snatched up the document wallet from the side table and shoved it into the same bag. He dumped the Herschel by the door. Rushed over to the staff quarters, dragged Roidhead to his feet. Hustled the guy into the living room.

Moments later, Mallet stepped back through the balcony door. Lang stood up, straight-backed, like a defendant at a murder trial, waiting for the judge’s verdict.

‘Good news,’ Mallet said. ‘Your worries are over, Davey. All is forgiven. The deal has just been signed off. You’re going into police protection.’

‘About time. Now how about getting rid of these cuffs? They’re killing me.’

Mallet nodded at Webb. ‘Do the honours, Patrick.’

Webb left the room. He came back a few moments later clutching a pair of scissors and cut through Lang’s cable ties. Lang rubbed his sore wrists and grinned at the soldier.

‘Cheers, son.’

Webb glared at him.

‘Don’t say much, do you?’

Webb made no reply. He stared at Lang with barely concealed contempt. Lang stepped closer to him.