‘Ray, I’ve got the ANPR records at Chieveley right in front of me, and your car’s on the list, buried among 17,000 innocent vehicles. I can make it disappear.’

Slater blew a long nervous sigh. ‘Can you?’

‘I can delete the two images, entry and exit, for a fee. Your Nissan was never there. You’d be in the clear.’

There was a long pause. ‘How much?’

‘How much were you paid for the hit?’

There was a long pause. ‘Hundred thou, roughly.’

‘A hundred thousand pounds? I want half. In cash.’

‘Fuck off. You’ve got a nerve.’

‘Who paid you to do it? Was it Arrowsmith?’

‘None of your business.’

‘C’mon, it was bound to be him. Wasn’t it?’

‘I can’t tell you.’

‘You still got the shooter?’

‘Yeah. Might still need it.’

‘Pay me half and I can plant the shooter on the Tickett family.’

‘How?’

‘I’ve got the bona fides to visit Typhoon Tickett’s house. Then pretend I found the shooter there. The Ticketts are already trussed up like turkeys for the Arrowsmith abduction. It’s no great stretch to imagine they killed Blanchard too, several days before one of their associates planted the body in the car.’

There was a long silence before Slater spoke. ‘You’re a lifesaver, Carl, you really are.’

‘Meet you at the Three Feathers?’

‘No chance. I’ve got to take precautions. Take the Guildford to Waterloo train at 17.19 this evening, rear carriage, somewhere in the last couple of rows of seats. I’ll meet you there.’ He hung up.

Carl Hoskins was nervous as he waited on the Guildford platform. DS Vikram Singh, now recovered from Covid, was dressed as a commuter and stood with his nose in the Times a few yards away. There were two unmarked support vehicles which would head from station to station to match as far as possible the progress of the train, while Gillard co-ordinated back at Mount Browne. At short notice it was the best that could be done. Slater had been clever. This was a tricky meeting to put under surveillance. The train Hoskins was catching started in Portsmouth, heading to London Waterloo. It was impossible to check every one of the dozen stations that Slater might get on at. Likewise it was impossible to check all stations that he might require Hoskins to get off at if he rang the detective and asked him to meet away from the train.

The train arrived. The rear carriage was first class, and as expected less busy than the rest of the train. At this time of day most of the commuter traffic was coming in the other direction, leaving London to return to the suburbs. Hoskins got on and sat in a rear seat by the platform window. The only passenger nearby was an elderly woman in walking boots and carrying a small rucksack, who was reading a hardback about wildflowers.