‘Yeah, the fucking Clarion. Which paper was the first to report about Number 37? And had a photographer in the house two minutes after the filth arrived? The Clarion did. How did they know where to be at that time of night? Obvious, really. Either the filth tipped them off, or this mystery hit man did. Either way, there’s one person who can tell us for sure. Whoever took those pics. We find the photographer, then we find the killer.’

29

‘Sergeant Bale. I was hoping to catch you before you went off duty. Please report to my office before leaving the building.’

Mickey had been minutes from leaving LX. Having beaten the early traffic into London. The Voyager having caught a tailwind and arrived at Brize an hour early. He’d ignored his in-box and typed up and submitted his post-tour report in record time. But his job phone had rung just as he was booking his Glock back into the armoury. Inspector Phil’s number. His request politely framed, sending Mickey a message nonetheless. The formal use of rank a signal to expect something more formal than the usual. A meeting without refreshments of any kind. The burning hoop he’d have to jump through before getting to go home and unwind his tightly coiled psyche.

Which made it no surprise when he found the duty inspector’s office rather more heavily populated than normal. What was surprising was the acreage of silver braid laid out to meet him. A very unhappy-looking Chief Superintendent Johnnie Palmer, head of Prot. Worse, standing next to him, his superior. Assistant Commissioner Jasmine Chen. Looking like she could shoot death rays from her eyes, given a sufficient excuse to do so. Mickey saluted, coming to attention and making his face blank. And behind them, Inspector Phil. His face pale. The result, Mickey guessed, of finding himself caught in the blowback.

‘Ma’am. Sirs.’

And shut up. Being a firm believer that it was madness to pick up a spade when you were already in a hole.

‘Sergeant Bale. Welcome back from your somewhat brief sojourn in Belize.’

AC Chen’s words laced with acid. Mickey nodded.

‘Thank you, ma’am.’

‘Anything you’d like to share with us, Sergeant? Any detail that might have been omitted from your end-of-shift report?’

‘No, ma’am.’

Jasmine’s eyes narrowed, and Mickey wondered for a moment if this was death ray time.

‘Your report detailed a High Risk Environment protection detail task to Belize. The flight out from Brize Norton. Overnight in a Belize City hotel. The principal delivering a speech to the national assembly. The drive back to the airport, flight home. All of which seems unaccountably sparse, to our uninformed eyes. Three lines of text. And yet Sir Patrick Sutherland’s office has already been in contact this morning. Telling Inspector Green that you’re now persona non grata on the minister’s protection detail.’