He drops into the dip by the top of Northcote Road and starts walking up the other side of the hill. He quickly feels out of breath and it irritates him. He used to play football every Saturday morning, and mess around on the basketball courts after college most days. How can he have gone from that to an unfit mess in just six months? There’s a discarded Coke can on the pavement, and he kicks it hard. It lifts into the air for a moment, then drops and skitters along the asphalt. It draws a dirty look from a bodybuilder type walking past on the other side and Mark glares back.

His eyes expand like popping corn. Holy shit, it’s Rudy!

Mark drops his eyeline again and picks up his pace. With his heart hammering, he takes a swift right down a side road. When he’s far enough away, he stops and leans against the wall, shaking his head manically. Was it Rudy? Or is this what spice withdrawal does?

He must be seeing things. He’s not involved in the drug scene, so there’s no way Rudy could have tracked him down, especially not to a posh neighbourhood like this. It’s definitely the spice, messing with his head, making him paranoid, he decides. He’s got a job to do; he can’t be knocked off course again. He walks a bit further to settle his nerves, then doubles back. Whoever it was has disappeared by the time he reaches Brookhill Road again, so he swears with relief and carries on up the hill.

On his first approach, he walks straight past the school; he doesn’t want to be captured on their CCTV. But after a couple of fly-bys, he realises that they don’t have much CCTV anyway, just narrow-angled cameras at the different entranceways. Quaint London primary schools clearly don’t worry too much about intruders. The iron railings across the front perimeter only reach Mark’s ears, but he also counts three different entrances with only waist-high gates. This is going to be easier than he thought. The area immediately in front of the school is a playground with hopscotch squares and a chessboard painted on the ground. Around the side, Mark can see a short line of cars, a few spaces saved for the top-ranking teachers. With two four-by-four wagons jammed up close together, Mark decides it’s the perfect place to hide.

He waits until the pavement is clear, then quickly vaults over the gate closest to the parking area, making sure he’s facing away from the camera. He knows he’s taking a massive risk – a teacher, caretaker, maintenance worker, or anyone, could spot him in a second, and there’s a big chance they’d phone the police – but he reckons the prize is worth it.