‘I’ve worked in this store more than a dozen years,’ Freja said coyly. ‘In my experience, people either go to the police first, or not at all.’

Trey looked sore, but kept fingers drumming and his mouth shut.

‘Six hundred pounds, four times thirteen-inch MacBook computers,’ Freja finally announced, as she swivelled the monitor so that Trey could see. ‘I can call our reseller and see if we can get them back before the data is erased.’

Trey nodded, then looked tense as Freja grabbed an old-fashioned phone with a long curly lead. There was a brief conversation.

‘You gentlemen are in luck,’ Freja said. ‘The equipment takes a couple of days to process. Our reseller can bring the laptops back when they make their collection run this afternoon. Eight hundred pounds will cover what we paid, plus our handling costs. I’d suggest you drop in just before we close at six. Or first thing tomorrow.’

Trey looked frustrated, but was more concerned with speed than with paying an extra two hundred. ‘Is there any way we could get them sooner?’

‘The reseller is based in Watford,’ Freja said. ‘If you leave your mobile number, I’d be more than happy to call as soon as they arrive.’

Trey tutted, before jotting his mobile number on a We Buy Gold flyer. Once the big men had left, Freja took the piece of paper into a back room, separated from the rest of the shop by a bead curtain.

Besides a kettle and sandwich toaster, the space was crammed to the ceiling with junk, from old paperwork to cardboard boxes filled with broken electrical gear and shelves of musical instruments.

There was a tiny desk in the corner, at which James Adams sat with four open MacBooks. Each one was locked and encrypted, so he had the backs off and was using his own laptop to make bit-for-bit copies of the hard drives.

‘You handled that really well,’ James said warmly.

Freja smiled. ‘Twenty-five years in this business. You get used to cops asking questions and guys demanding their stuff back. So how long will it take to copy the hard drives?’

‘Couple of hours,’ James said.

‘Why not just take the laptops?’ Freja asked.

James smiled. ‘Information tends to be more valuable if the bad guys don’t know you’ve got it.’

‘So who are they, Detective?’ Freja asked. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘I’m on to something,’ James explained. ‘But at this stage, I have no clue what that something is.’

Trey got his laptops back just after 4 p.m. CHERUB’s head mission controller, John Jones, arrived in Birmingham ninety minutes later, and met with James, Leon and Daniel around the dining-table in the flat over Morrisons.

‘Two sugars,’ James said, as he put a chipped World’s Best Auntie mug on the table in front of his boss.

‘So what was on the laptops?’ Leon asked.