‘Rampage Bronze Command, Easy Rider. Rampage is mobile.’

Sounding like he’d stopped for an ice cream. Rather than stuck in the middle of a London street, powerless to do anything other than wait. Mercifully, the remainder of the run to St John’s Wood was uneventful. Delivering POTUS back to the ambassador’s residence in time for his afternoon nap. And with a couple of hours to kill before the next move. All Prot officers not tasked with standing guard on the vehicles stood down.

‘Fancy a cuppa, Mickey?’

He turned to find Kev and his crew beckoning him over. And since Wade had guard duty, as the most junior Prot copper on the team, he went with it. Promising to bring Wade something back.

The caff they had in mind was a rare find in North-West London. Both relatively cheap and decent quality. Tea from a pot, properly brewed. And with pukka home-made fruit cake. After a few minutes’ appreciative silence Kev pushed his empty plate away. Gazing at the ceiling and blowing out a long slow breath. Looking around at his SEG colleagues and then shaking his head in amusement.

‘I don’t know about you lot, but I think I’ve stopped finding that sort of thing funny. Time I hung up my whistle and left you lot to it.’

‘You know you’ll miss us.’

He nodded at Maisie’s comment.

‘For sure. But I won’t miss this.’

‘What are you going to do instead?’

Mickey, with the question that most coppers got round to if left together long enough. Working One, Sean, the next most experienced of Kev’s working riders, reached into a pocket. Dropped a card on the table in front of Mickey.

‘That’ll answer your question.’

Mickey looked down at the card. A stylised image of a bike, two up.

‘Lightning Transfers? Not Black Rat Bikes then?’

‘Does what it says on the tin. We get the punter from Central London to any London Airport in half the time the best black cab could do it. Which means that people who like to stay in meetings longer than they should can still make it to their plane on time. Plus we discreetly let it be known we’re SEG. The rich punters lap that up, right enough.’

‘So when are you starting this?’

Sean picked the card up. Waste not, want not, Mickey presumed.

‘We already have. Websites are cheap, and after that all you need is a decent bike, with a fairing, and three sizes of waterproofs and a helmet each. Plus we got a blinding deal on the bikes and kit, all buying together.’

‘Does the Job know you’re working on your off days?’

Kev shook his head.

‘You know the rule, Mickey boy. What the Job doesn’t know won’t hurt it. Once I’m out I’ll run the bookings, and do some runs to keep my hand in.’

Mickey nodded, impressed.