The few pedestrians he encountered eyed him, and each other, uneasily. Not a good day to be carrying a backpack – or sporting a dark beard. A row of police vans with armoured mesh over the windows parked nose-to-tail formed a cordon around the Invicta headquarters.

Inside, Phoebe was still at her post. The look in her eyes as Tom approached suggested Woolf had kept her up to speed. She came out from behind the desk and put her arms round him. ‘So, I guess this is it?’

He smiled at her.

But before he could answer Rolt was at the door. The gleam in his eye said it all. ‘A good night for Invicta, you might say.’

No pretence now, no frown of concern.

Tom nodded. ‘Yes, you might say that.’

Rolt let him into his office and closed the door. The sun was blasting in through the huge windows. The Turner over the mantelpiece looked fabulous. ‘Well, what’s your decision?’

Tom clasped his hands. There was a tiny fleck of Nasima’s blood under a fingernail. He scooped it out, then looked up at Rolt. ‘Count me in.’

Extract from State of Emergency

Tom Buckingham returns
in Andy McNab’s
thrilling and topical new novel

Turn over for a preview
of the opening chapters . . .

1

02.45 GMT

River Thames, London

The inflatable bucked and kicked as it skimmed the surface of the Thames. A stiff breeze flustered the water, sculpting it into small waves that smacked the bow as the craft progressed upriver. The low cloud pressing down on the capital glowed a dull orange, reflecting the city lights on to the deserted waterway. A lone night-bus made its way across Battersea Bridge, empty of passengers, like a ghostly Mary Celeste on wheels.

The only interruption to the boatman’s progress had been a River Police launch heading downstream to its base at Wapping. He had throttled back to tick-over and steered into the shadow of one of the few remaining Thames barges moored on the seaward side of Tower Bridge. As the launch came past he flattened himself against the hull, clenching his teeth against the cold. The launch slowed and veered so close that for a few seconds he could hear the radio coming from it – the sound of cheering. The election results were coming through. He stayed like that until the sound of the launch had faded into the night. The snow was starting again; welcome additional cover to obscure the small craft, fine flecks that swirled uncertainly in the biting wind.