It took a little longer than he expected. He was still getting used to how the world had moved on during his years in prison. Wi-Fi was one of those changes.

A few moments more and the connection was made. Penfold brought up the Stena Line booking page and selected the Harwich to Hook ferry, 7 a.m. on 20 June. The first of the day that still had space.

He looked at his watch. 3 a.m. Just four more hours and he would be gone. Out of England. The first time in twenty-two years.

And I won’t be back, he thought. I’m done here.

The booking page asked for details. Passenger name and a bank card for payment.

The latter was no problem. Penfold had been careful since his release. He had purchased a dormant bank account registered to someone else. Credit and debit card use was unavoidable these days. Before his imprisonment cash had been king, but it had been dethroned during his sentence. This had forced Penfold to use both types of card many times in the past few months.

If those cards had been in his own name then a trail would have been created, and by now the police might be looking for him. With what he was doing, Penfold could not risk his real name being flagged up on any police system.

The other requirement – travel and identity documents – was similarly dealt with. Penfold had done his homework in the past six months. Passports were getting harder and harder to fake, but without one he could not board the ferry. He could not even book the ticket.

As difficult as fake documents might be to come by, no one was better placed to ‘know the right people’ than someone who had just spent the best part of two decades living with every type of criminal. It had not been cheap, but as Wisdom Penfold looked at the pristine burgundy passport in his hand – naming him as the same non-existent person who owned his bank account and credit cards – he knew that the investment had been worth it.

Penfold entered the information and waited for payment to be confirmed. It took less than a minute. He then accessed his email inbox and opened his e-ticket. The ferry was confirmed.

It was his only connection to the transaction under his own name. He had not anticipated the need for email and so he had not set up a new address under the fake name.

He closed the laptop and packed it away. Next he undressed, carefully folding the clothes he had been wearing. To wear again tomorrow.

Everything was in place. Tomorrow, Wisdom Penfold would leave England behind.

Either that, or I spend the rest of my life in prison.

THIRTY-THREE

Steven Hale glanced at his watch as he strode into the MIT working area. 7.30 a.m.

The place was already busy. But then Scotland Yard never sleeps. Hale scanned the floor. Looking for the members of his team, both MIT One and Trident.