‘And the beauty of it is that the time changes every minute, which means the code does as well. But corporal, don’t forget that although your adversary may be neither an officer nor a gentleman, you’ll still need to get up very early in the morning to catch him asleep.’

‘That’s exactly what I plan to do,’ said Ross, as he strapped on the watch.

• • •

DC Pankhurst was seated at a table by the window of a wine bar overlooking Wardour Street. She had selected the spot carefully. The little bar, on the first floor above a restaurant, was packed with young people enjoying a night out, although she was still on duty. From her vantage point she had an uninterrupted view of Darren Carter as he went about his work. After fourteen days of surveillance, she not only knew his routine, but also his job description (unwritten). Carter was first and foremost the Eve Club’s gatekeeper. He, and he alone, decided who should be allowed to enter the club, and his prejudices had become only too obvious to Rebecca over the past fortnight.

He welcomed stray middle-aged foreigners who looked as if they had money and could be seduced into parting with it. If they’d had a little too much to drink, that was a bonus. ‘Undesirables’ – tattooed youths wearing jeans, especially if they were in groups – were politely rejected, and occasionally not so politely. ‘Sorry sir, this is a private members’ club’ was usually enough for them to move on, and if they didn’t, the suggestion of what might happen next persuaded the more determined. One or two didn’t give up quite so easily, which was met with a menacing look, and if they were still stupid enough to push their luck, a firm shove followed, although Rebecca hadn’t yet witnessed anything that could have been described as GBH, and therefore warranted an arrest.

Rebecca accepted she would have to be like a patient angler, prepared to wait for hours in the hope of landing a catch. At least she was sitting in a warm bar enjoying a drink, and not perched on a river bank in the pouring rain. But she was painfully aware her written reports were becoming shorter and shorter by the day. In fact, lately, only the date changed. She wondered how much longer it would be before the chief moved her on to another assignment.

At least she had plenty of time to think about Archie. She loved her job and being part of a highly trained elite team, but she knew she would soon have to make a decision about her future. Archie had started talking about their life together as a shared partnership. He was currently doing a spell in Northern Ireland, and she was well aware that, as a young army officer, he could expect to be regularly posted abroad. ‘Goes with the territory, old thing,’ he’d once told her, making it clear in his own sweet way that he assumed she would want to resign from the Met, as she obviously couldn’t be in two places at once.