‘So what are your plans, Skip? For when your thirty’s up, I mean.’

Mickey turned to his colleague with a resigned look.

‘You too, eh? I thought you were better than that, Wade.’ He raised a hand to forestall the protest. ‘I know, you’re just making conversation.’ He grinned. ‘And it’s not like that’s the only thing coppers ever talk about, is it?’ Thought for a minute. ‘Truth is, it isn’t something I’ve given much thought to. Private bodyguarding, I suppose, while I’m still young enough.’

‘Private sector, Skip? You? I doubt you’d last a year.’

‘It’s not like there’s much alternative. Not for decent money, anyway. Not that I delude myself I’ll like it any more than anyone else who’s done it.’

Wade nodded agreement. ‘I bet you wouldn’t miss the boredom though. I mean take this. Here we are, waiting around with jack shit to do.’ He sighed. ‘I once tried to work out how much of my life I’ve spent hanging around doing fuck all. Just waiting for something to happen.’

‘But you ran out of fingers and couldn’t get your shoes off?’

The other man ignored the jibe.

‘That photographer was the first bit of excitement I’ve had since the last royal wedding. And even then it was you who made the collar.’

Mickey raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Yeah, but you’d miss the buzz. Not to mention the authority over lesser mortals. Wouldn’t you?’

Wade nodded slowly. The two men sharing a knowing smile.

‘Yeah, wouldn’t I just. The first time I had a uniformed inspector take instruction from me on how to deploy his serial down a parade route was just…’

‘Unreal. And addictive. Not many roles like it in the Job.’

‘And you think you could go from that to carrying Mrs Oligarch’s shopping? It’d be one great big let-down.’

The PaDP skipper put his head round the corner.

‘Heads up, boys, your principal’s going to be on the move in two minutes.’

The two men looked at each other, Mickey making a show of looking at the Black Bay with a raised eyebrow before getting to his feet. Leaving his tea half drunk.

‘Ten minutes, soup to nuts? Ye gods. If he was chilly on the way here, I dread to think what he’s going to be like on the way back.’