Alyssa wondered if this was a bit of bravado. The last time they’d been down St Clement’s and had grabbed the old guy, Ivana had actually been concerned enough that the fake nun might have seen the vehicle to stipulate that from that point on they’d stop using dummy plates bearing registration numbers that were non-existent, and start using copies – plates mocked up to look like genuine ones belonging to legitimate vans owned by real firms. That way, routine police camera checks wouldn’t throw up anything suspicious.

For her own part, Alyssa was just glad that they hadn’t mentioned to his lordship that the other grab had been witnessed. He’d have gone hopping mad, and would have had them back on Category Cs again.

‘We’ll have to tell him, of course,’ Ivana said, as though she’d been reading her sister’s mind. ‘That we went for a Category B tonight but blew it.’

Alyssa’s jaw dropped. ‘Are you kidding?’

‘Lyssa … you did all right. The plan worked. I never thought the nun’d be dumb enough to go back to the same place where we grabbed the other one, but you were right … she did, eventually. Plus, you’d have got her into the back of the van easy if that cloak thing she was wearing hadn’t ripped off. Okay, she was lighter on her toes than Category Bs usually are, but you still caught up with her in a few yards.’

Alyssa snorted. ‘And then look what happened.’

‘Fucking hell, doll. Even you can’t be blamed for a patrolling copper turning up. How often does that happen these days? When was the last time you even saw a patrolling police officer? Even the old fella’ll be on board with that. Anyway, like I say … it doesn’t matter. We’ll get her at some point.’ She had to suppress an excited grin. ‘For the moment, something else has come up.’

‘What?’

Ivana glanced at her chunky military-style watch, and then nodded at the phone lying on the dash. ‘Look at that text. It arrived just under five minutes ago.’

Alyssa grabbed the device and checked the last message.

Recall. Right away. No buts. Drop everything. Urgent job.

‘Job?’ Alyssa said, mystified. ‘Does he mean like … the real thing?’

Ivana shrugged. ‘He said it’s urgent, didn’t he? Told us to drop everything.’

‘But we haven’t even done a successful Category A yet.’

‘So what was last night?’

Alyssa was puzzled. ‘That meathead from the gym? I was told when we got home that he didn’t count. That you’d spiked his drink, so he was Category B at best.’

Ivana snorted. ‘That’s because his lordship’s still pissed off with you about Cunningham.’

‘I don’t know why,’ Alyssa grumbled. ‘We got her off the streets, we still completed the job.’