Lucy crossed the Green and glanced once over her shoulder as she ascended the steps to the shop-front terrace. Tonight, the support car, Danny Tucker’s Vauxhall Passat, contained both him and a Robbery Squad DC called Ruth Smiley. Lucy had already known who Ruth Smiley was before any of this started, because, aside from Kathy Blake, she was the only other female in the Squad. She was in her late-thirties and ex-military, a veteran of both Iraq and Afghanistan. What was more, she carried this aura around with her, looking and sounding both tough and efficient. She wasn’t tall but was in visibly good shape, and yet, though her short, dark-red hair was shaved at the sides, almost like a crew cut, and her usual attire of polo shirts, slacks and flat shoes rather than dresses, skirts and heels, gave her the air of a toughie, up close she was alluringly pretty, with bright blue eyes, pink lips, and a button nose. She was notoriously curt and forthright in her conversation, but that hadn’t stopped a lot of the guys at the station hitting on her (and getting knocked back). At present, however, it was Smiley’s renowned competence at the job that was of greatest value, and both she and Tucker were displaying it amply: the Passat had shadowed Lucy’s every step this evening, yet never once had she spotted it.

She trudged on along the terrace to the cashpoint, glancing over her shoulder again and peering directly across the Green to the mouth of the alley that had brought her here. It was a small relief to see that a vehicle, most likely the Passat, had pulled up at the far end. It showed no lights, but it hadn’t been there a moment earlier. It was perhaps a little further away than Lucy would have liked, but that said, Tucker, who was physically fit, could probably cover the distance on foot pretty swiftly if he needed to.

Lucy went through the usual motions, inserting her card, tapping in a key number and then waiting patiently. From somewhere behind, there came the echoing double-thud of what sounded like a door opening and closing. She withdrew her card and a couple of tenners, before it occurred to her that what she’d just heard could well have been the support car.

She spun around.

The figure was only about fifteen yards away.

It had approached silently along the terrace from its eastern end. It wasn’t especially impressive in height or breadth, but it wore a black, heavy cape, too big for it really, which covered it from shoulders to ankles like a voluminous, waterproof shroud. The hood was pulled down over the face, which could not be seen in any case because the head was bowed.