‘I’ll go around the back,’ Chivers said. Leaving his colleague to keep watch, the former bouncer found an alleyway a few doors up on the left. The narrow entrance led between the high fences of the rear gardens on either side, and then turned right to traverse the rear of the back gardens of a dozen homes. Chivers counted off the houses until he was certain he was at the back of number sixty-three. At first sight it wasn’t good news. There was a six-foot-high holly hedge, broken only by a timbered gate. He pushed against it, and felt it flex as if bolted low down on the inside. He didn’t like climbing, and even if he did, the rotten panels were liable to break. A hefty kick at the bottom of the fence did the trick, tearing out the hasp of the bolt retainer. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed the noise. There were no obvious signs that they had, so he stepped into the garden and closed the gate behind him. The short, tidy backyard led up to a UPVC window with locks top and bottom, and a matching UPVC back door. The door looked manageable. Chivers had never been a burglar, but a nine-month stint inside had given him the opportunity to learn from a man who did nothing else. Specifically, he knew how to snap the cylinders of the Euro profile locks used on most modern double-glazed doors. The most skilled practitioners reckoned to get inside in 15 to 20 seconds. Chivers was less well prepared. He had only tried to do this twice before, both times after a few pints when trying to get back into his ex-girlfriend’s house after she’d thrown him out.

Using a large screwdriver, he levered off the exterior brass plate to expose the shank of the lock barrel. He then gripped the shank with a large adjustable spanner and twisted it to the left with all his considerable weight. It took several attempts, as the spanner kept slipping, but it finally cracked. It had taken just under two minutes.

Chivers pushed open the door, and on his hands and knees searched the carpet on the inside for any metal fragments. None. There was no key on the inside part of the lock, but that didn’t matter. The broken cylinder would still slide back into the gap in the lock, and even the brass plate would fit back on. Once he’d straightened the plate and glued it back with epoxy, it wasn’t obvious that anything had happened. Any key used on the inside and turned could still apparently lock the door. It just wouldn’t be secure.

He didn’t need to go inside now. He had simply cleared the way to come back on Monday night and then lie in wait for Rollason as he arrived the following morning.

Monday