Not stating that their informant was a Met officer, of course. Although the story couldn’t have come from anywhere else. That anonymity protecting whoever had provided the story, obviously. Since leaking to the press was only a Met sacking offence if you were actually found out. Sitting looking at the words, fuming, Mickey thought fast. Reckoning that he had a pretty good idea which senior officer had been responsible for the Clarion’s version of events.

Which was that the unnamed Prot officer in question had unleashed a barrage of retaliatory expletives after being sacked by the minister. Mickey’s problem being that there was no way he’d ever get to refute the most contentious and salacious part of the story. The part where he C-bombed a senior member of the government.

Which, of course, would make him instantly notorious. Not a man any minister would want on their protection team, once his identity became clear. What was left of that bridge irrevocably burned to the water in the space of two hundred words. Jasmine Chen’s revenge for him helping her make herself look stupid, he assumed. The article featuring a pic of an anonymous male Prot officer, suited and pistol armed.

The latter obvious because his suit jacket was open to reveal the butt of a Glock 17. Clearly not Mickey, who wouldn’t have been seen dead in that tie. Adding, he mused gloomily, sartorial insult to libellous injury. And probably making the tie’s actual owner an instant celebrity among the coffee-drinking masons. Masking tape sunglasses had been Photoshopped onto the unknown officer’s face to cover his identity. And a minutely printed disclaimer added under the photo, reassuring the reader that the cop’s picture was a stock photo. So far so Clarion.

The story being that, before being sacked, the officer in question had single-handedly foiled a “foreign government’s assassination attempt on a senior member of the government during a ministerial visit”. Providing, in the process, the perfect cover story for the contractors who had actually done the job. Which would have had the side benefit – for the Met, at least – of having made the Secret Intelligence Service happy.

So, everyone a winner, it seemed. Except for Mickey. Who knew that notoriety was a proven career killer in Prot. And that he was now pretty much doomed to being “that officer” for the rest of his career. Which in turn felt as if AC Chen had single-handedly pushed him right to the exit door. Opened it and pointed the way through.

‘So. Mickey. Hero cop? A little more information, please?’

Roz, reminding him that the first woman he had to worry about was the one sitting in front of him.

‘What can I say? It’s a pile of shit. No way did I say any of that to—’