Bowman and Mallet shared an easy laugh. Although the other guys in the Regiment often teased Loader, everyone respected his abilities as a soldier. He had a smart, thoughtful attitude, like many of the recruits from the Corps of Engineers. He was also loyal to a fault. In public he fancied himself as a ladies’ man, but everyone knew that he secretly adored his childhood sweetheart Mary and their eight kids. One of the bullying sergeants had nicknamed him Tiny after he’d passed Selection, but Loader wore the name like a badge of honour. The piss-taking had only motivated him to work harder, to prove himself the equal of every other guy in the Regiment. Bowman was genuinely glad to see him on the team.

Mallet said, ‘Tiny’s the team medic. He also deals with anything related to entry, breaking security systems. As you know, he used to run the lock-picking wing at Hereford. If there’s a safe that needs cracking, he’s your man. Or if you need a terrible chat-up line.’

He pointed to the man to the right of Loader. The figure with the cropped hair. Under the glare of the overhead lights in the Shed, Bowman saw that his chin was a knot of pinkish scar tissue. He was lean and tough, with muscles like cement and a fierce look in his eyes. There was a quiet intensity to the guy, Bowman noted. As if he might explode into violence at the slightest provocation.

‘This is Sergeant Patrick Webb,’ Mallet said. ‘He’s from the Special Reconnaissance Regiment.’

‘All right, mate,’ Bowman said. ‘How’s it going?’

Webb nodded a curt greeting.

Mallet said, ‘Patrick is our lead surveillance operator and team linguist. Fluent in seven languages. He did three years with SRR before he was picked up by Thames House. Now he works for us.’

Bowman nodded. The Special Reconnaissance Regiment was the modern successor to The Det, the shadowy surveillance unit that worked alongside the Regiment in Northern Ireland. SRR candidates were trained in many of the same skillsets as their predecessors in the Det. They were the ultimate grey men and women, able to operate in areas others couldn’t, recceing targets and observing enemy positions. Their skills were highly prized by the security services, who often recruited SRR operators to carry out surveillance work.

‘Josh did two years in SRR himself,’ Mallet said to Webb.

‘When did you join SRR, mate?’ Bowman said. ‘I don’t remember seeing you around the ops room when I was there.’

‘Four years ago,’ Webb replied in a heavy Birmingham accent. ‘We don’t know each other.’

‘You’re a Brummie, eh? Villa fan?’

‘City.’

He said nothing more and stared blankly at Bowman, his lips pressed into a hard line. A long moment passed between them. Bowman figured he was the kind of guy who preferred silence to small talk.