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Chapters (124)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Acclaim for Frank Gardner’s Luke Carlton thrillers
  4. Also by Frank Gardner
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. 85
  92. 86
  93. 87
  94. 88
  95. 89
  96. 90
  97. 91
  98. 92
  99. 93
  100. 94
  101. 95
  102. 96
  103. 97
  104. 98
  105. 99
  106. 100
  107. 101
  108. 102
  109. 103
  110. 104
  111. 105
  112. 106
  113. 107
  114. 108
  115. 109
  116. 110
  117. 111
  118. 112
  119. 113
  120. 114
  121. 115
  122. Epilogue
  123. Acknowledgements
  124. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

‘That’s not helpful. We can’t be dealing with maybes and might-bes. We need to know for certain. Can’t you be more precise than that?’ She exchanged a look of disapproval with the others.

‘Look, I don’t work for them,’ Luke protested. ‘I was in the forces, not the Old Bill, remember? But what I can tell you is that back in 2010, after the Mumbai attack, the mainline stations asked the Met for a twenty-four-hour armed response. The Met said they couldn’t guarantee it so the Transport Police got given two million quid for their own firearms unit.’ Just a little snippet he’d learned during his prep session down at the Stage.

‘Right,’ Niamh said. ‘So we must assume they’re armed, then.’ She looked at the man next to her. ‘Sven, can you take care of that?’ She turned back to Luke. ‘What about timings? Is the station staffed twenty-four/seven?’

Luke looked up from the floor plan and studied her face for a moment. Niamh had perfect, blemish-free skin and she looked so, well, normal. But behind those glasses was a look of frightening intensity: he could read the determination in her eyes. This was someone who had set her heart on a course of action from which nothing could dissuade her. When it came to the crunch, someone would have to take her down or this would never be over.

‘Is the station staffed twenty-four/seven?’ Luke repeated her question to himself out loud. ‘Hard to say when you haven’t told me which station it is.’ There. He’d said it. First attempt to get the location out of her. Would she bite? He desperately needed her to take the bait.

Niamh did not respond straight away. She thought for a moment, squinting behind her glasses. When she did answer, it sent his pulse racing even faster.

‘Would you leave us and step outside for a moment.’ Not a question, but an instruction. ‘I need to discuss something in private. Max, stay with him.’

They stood outside in the dark, beneath the dome camera just above the door with the red frame. The one that Luke had correctly identified as an Axis model. ‘Max’, the driver who had delivered him to this bleak warehouse on the outer edge of an Essex town, sparked up a cigarette but kept his silence. He looked long and hard at Luke as he drew on it. Luke returned the stare. This guy’s just a bit player in all this, he reminded himself. He’s trying to act the tough guy, but he’s obviously just a minor cog in the bigger machine.