While Lazar hesitated in the shop doorway, his brother Anton was already waiting at the kerb, drumming his fingers impatiently on the arms of his wheelchair, fidgeting with the rug on his knees. He stared straight ahead, taking no notice of the people passing by, even though they barely had enough room to get past him without stepping into the road.

When he glanced in the direction of the Rutland pub, the streetlights seemed to form even deeper shadows among the lines etched like knife marks in his face.

The camera recording Lazar Zhivko’s movements had captured that expression on his face many times before. It was immortalized in the stills pinned to copies of his file and handed out to officers on surveillance shifts. One observer had described it as the look of a man who’d learned always to expect the worst.

‘I wish I knew what the hell the brother was looking at.’

The two surveillance officers were starting to feel drowsy. The store room was stuffy, and specks of dust drifted in the air whenever either of them moved from the cardboard box he was sitting on. All afternoon they hadn’t dared to open the sash even an inch, in case they drew attention to their position. Even now that it was getting dark, they were being careful.

‘It’s not us he’s looking at, anyway.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Don’t worry, he hasn’t seen us.’

‘Maybe he’s spotted somebody on the pavement this side of the road. We ought to get someone in the street to check.’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘Well, he must be looking at the menswear shop next door, then. I know their window display is pretty weird, but I wouldn’t have thought it was bad enough to make him look like that.’

Anton Zhivko’s expression was much more difficult to interpret than his brother’s. Anton looked resigned, yet contemptuous, as if he could see a threat approaching and had resolved not to run, but to face it without fear.

The angle of the camera was adjusted as Lazar Zhivko finally left the door of the shop. Stepping on to the pavement, Lazar gripped the handles of his brother’s wheelchair and kicked off the foot-brake. The camera panned slowly to follow him as the two men headed towards the white Renault Kangoo parked outside the bakery.

‘He’s lost sight of whatever it was. Now, he just looks pissed off. He’s saying something to Lazar. That’s the trouble with making silent movies like this – you need subtitles. It’s a pity Technical Support couldn’t have got a microphone on to the wheelchair to pick up sound.’

‘How would they have done that? Anton is only ever out of the thing when he goes to bed or to the toilet. Besides, how good is your Bulgarian?’