There were fewer than a dozen cars parked up outside the Crown and Anchor. Everything was bathed in the sickly yellow light given off by the sodium streetlamps nearby. It was enough for him to see that no one else was there. Except a solitary figure leaning up against the outside wall of the pub. It looked like he was having a pee. Classy, Luke thought, as he walked past and froze mid-step. Almost inaudibly, the man had uttered two words just as Luke came into earshot. ‘Sieg Heil.’

‘Sieg Heil,’ Luke repeated the Nazi greeting, and turned to face him, making sure the swastika tattoo on his neck would be visible, even in the dim yellow light.

‘Follow me,’ the man said, retrieving a small duffel bag and slinging it over his shoulder, then leading them inside the pub. That’s it? No ID check? No secondary questioning? Was Luke about to be introduced to the very people with their hands on one of the most hideous viruses ever concocted over a round of drinks in an Essex pub? This didn’t seem real. And it wasn’t.

The pub was only half full but it had a warm, cosy glow to it on this Sunday evening. One look at the clientele told Luke they were probably all locals and all regulars; no one here looked like a fanatic of any kind. But his contact led him past the drinkers and off down a passageway to the Gents.

‘Wait here,’ the man told him. He was shorter than average, late thirties, with a shaven scalp and a piece of shiny black onyx embedded in his right earlobe. Seconds later he emerged from the toilets and beckoned Luke to follow him. The moment they were inside the man slammed the door behind them and threw the duffel bag at Luke’s feet.

‘Change,’ he ordered. ‘Take off everything, including your kecks. There’s a set of clothes for you in the bag.’

‘Really? But I’m clean,’ Luke lied, while at the same time he had to admire their opsec.

‘Boss’s orders,’ came the reply. ‘Don’t hang about. We’ve still got a way to drive. And I’ll need your phone off you too. Just hand it over.’

Right. So this wasn’t the final rendezvous after all. Well, that made sense. These people were taking no chances.

They walked back out into the car park, the man carrying Luke’s clothes stuffed into the duffel bag, the precious GPS and transmitter now lost to him and concealed inside. Without warning, he stopped and hurled it high into the air where it sailed over a hedge and into the wood the pub backed on to. Luke watched it go, noting the exact spot, but what use was that to him? Now he was without comms, cut off from back-up, operating blind and alone.