Mickey reached into his bag and pulled out a steel travel mug. Screw top, spring-loaded cap. Almost idiot proof.

‘Get this filled up with espresso. You’re going to need to look a bloody sight better than you do now by the time we get to Brize. And take some painkillers.’

Cruising out on the M4, Wade was relegated to the passenger seat. Drank some coffee. Fell asleep. Leaving Mickey pondering the next step that Nemesis had mapped out for him. A return to lethal form, if it went to plan. Ideally to be carried out as soon as possible after the raid on Number 37. The anonymous messages very clear that Joe was already working on ways to find him.

The next task would result in a single kill, if successful. Someone close to Joe. Important to him. And delivering justice beyond anything he’d attempted to date. Whilst representing the most dangerous of his attacks on Joe Castagna’s empire yet. He was still working through the plan in his mind when his airwave came to life.

‘Romeo Four Six, Romeo Control.’

‘Romeo Control, Four Six receiving.’

‘Romeo Four Six, message from Major Cavendish.’

‘Pass your message, Control.’

‘Message is: Contact me when you arrive on site and before entering the terminal. Private briefing required. Message ends.’

‘Control, Four Six, all received.’

‘What’s that all about, Skip?’

Wade, awakened by the radio. Mickey pursed his lips. Shaking his head in bemusement.

‘Your guess is as good as mine. But I suspect it might just have something to do with this apparently sudden decision for the minister to go to Central America.’

Cavendish met them in the car park that served the air terminal. He walked over to the car, shooting a knowing glance at Wade through Mickey’s open window.

‘I presume you’ve had a good night, Constable Harris?’ Not waiting for the answer. ‘I suggest you check in and join your colleagues? Reception will point you in the right direction. And when you get on the plane, be sure to sit behind Sir Patrick. I doubt he’ll spare any attention for his protection team, but best to be sure, don’t you think?’

Mickey nodded, tipping his head towards the terminal in an unspoken signal to Wade. Cavendish waited until the younger man was on his way into the building, then climbed into the car. Closing the door and turning to Mickey.

‘I wasn’t entirely open with you when we first met, Sergeant Bale. My appointment to the position of private secretary to the minister wasn’t just a case of the defence establishment putting one of their own in place. Speaking very frankly, I was appointed to this role by the Royal and VIP Executive Committee.’