The only thing that mattered now was finding out the exact target and the intended time of attack. Again, Luke asked himself the awkward question: if they’ve decided to share the plan with me, what are my chances of getting out of this alive? It was little comfort that Petrov’s prisoner in Moscow had vouched for him: these people here barely knew him. Once he had performed his task he knew he’d be expendable. He looked across at Max, the driver, as he took another long drag on his cigarette. So far, Luke had only encountered four people at this warehouse, but there would be others inside, he was certain of it, and any number of them could be armed.

The red door to the warehouse opened, spilling light from the little office out on to the gravel forecourt. A figure appeared silhouetted in the frame, a man, the light behind him forming an incongruous halo around his head. He jerked his head towards the room inside. Max dropped his half-finished cigarette to the ground and crushed it with the heel of his shoe. They went in.

The three were standing facing him like a firing squad. No one was smiling. Shit! This didn’t look good. Were they on to him? A last-minute spot check perhaps, revealing the holes in his hastily built cover story. Or maybe they’d simply decided he was expendable right now.

‘Come here, Steve,’ Niamh said gently. Luke kept his face expressionless, but to him the sound of his heart pounding in his ears was almost deafening.

‘Are you committed?’ she asked. He could see those cold eyes behind the glasses boring into his.

‘I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, would I?’ he retorted.

‘And you’re prepared to do whatever it takes?’

‘I just told you, I’m committed.’

‘That’s good,’ Niamh said. ‘Because we’ve decided we need you in on the operation. You’ll be riding in the front vehicle with the van following. Oh, and Steve, you’ll want to get out of London after this.’

‘That’s great,’ Luke replied, painting on a smile. ‘I’m chuffed, I really am. But you still haven’t told me what the target is.’ And there it was, his second attempt. He waited for the answer, heart in his mouth. Was it too much? Too soon? Had he blown it?

‘We’re going to tell you now,’ Niamh replied. ‘You’re among friends here so we know we can trust you. And once we do tell you …’ she paused to give her words impact ‘… there is no going back, Steve. Not for you, not for any of us. Because this is a war, Steve, and we’re striking the first blow for the sake of your children and your grandchildren. You want them to live in a better country, don’t you? A cleaner, purer place, without all these scum polluting our nation, right?’