Casey gave him a disapproving look. ‘Let’s pretend to be adults and dispense with the sexual innuendo for a minute. I mean, do you have anything identifiable on you? Jewellery, engraved rings, bracelets, anything like that?’

‘I’ve come straight from a job with the Wing. I’m clean.’

She smiled sympathetically. ‘Sounds like you’ve had a rough day.’

‘I’ve had better.’ He pointed his head at Webb. He was standing over his bunk bed, methodically checking the kit in his holdall, packing a load of paperback books. ‘What’s his deal? He doesn’t say much.’

‘That’s just Patrick for you.’

‘Has he got a problem with me?’

‘Don’t take it personally. I’ve spent three years in the same unit and I hardly know a thing about him.’

‘Is he good?’

‘The best I’ve worked with,’ said Casey. ‘He once spent three weeks outside an apartment in Jordan, dressed as a beggar, observing a target, and no one rumbled him.’

Bowman grunted. ‘As long as there’s no problem between us.’

‘There isn’t. Believe me. He’s the same with everyone. But he knows his stuff.’ She paused. ‘They say he used to roll with a gang, you know. In Birmingham. Before he joined the army.’

‘Jesus. How did he get out?’

‘I’m not familiar with the details. Another SRR guy told me. Something about Patrick’s dad getting killed, he said. That’s all I know. Patrick won’t talk about it.’ She shrugged. ‘I guess we’ve all got our secrets, haven’t we?’

Bowman ignored the question.

‘How long have you been with the Cell?’ he asked.

‘Six months. Why?’

‘Does Six always brief us over the mic?’

‘As far as I can remember.’

‘You don’t think that’s strange?’

‘I think lots of things are strange. Right-wing conspiracy theories. People who have never shopped online. Male banter.’

‘You know what I mean, Alex.’

Casey gave a slight shrug. ‘Who knows what they think over at Vauxhall? They’re an entirely different species from the rest of us. Perhaps they don’t fancy slumming it in a basement in Aldgate. Not their scene, I imagine.’

‘Maybe,’ Bowman said, uncertainly.

‘You think there’s another reason?’

‘I don’t know,’ Bowman muttered.

Something doesn’t feel right, he thought. The suits at Vauxhall were going to a lot of trouble to insulate themselves from this unit. Cleary, they didn’t want anything to connect them to the Cell or its operations. But why? Bowman wondered.

Casey took a band of euros from the vanity table and handed it to Bowman. ‘Here. You’ll need this as well.’

‘What for?’

‘In case we get separated. Keep receipts, won’t you. Six hates it when we don’t keep receipts.’