‘George Ripley’s got a big house in Gravel Lane, Chigwell, called Farthings,’ he continued. ‘Which is ironic as a farthing was worth a quarter of a penny. We did a drive-by recce and the house has big iron gates and a high wall at the front with a long gravel driveway. There’s woodland at the back and a field opposite, so the only way you can do surveillance on the place is in an OBO van, but it’s a country lane and you’d stand out like a sore thumb.’

Murphy wrote down the details in his pocket notebook.

‘What about setting up road or gas works?’ Kingston asked.

‘Again, a bit obvious. You can only go left or right out of the property, so a surveillance vehicle at either junction could pick up the target.’

‘Problem is, without a fixed OP on the house we won’t know when Ripley leaves,’ Murphy reflected.

‘You could stick a CROPS officer in the field opposite the gates or woodland in the grounds,’ Stanley suggested, referring to highly trained Covert Rural Observation Post Surveillance officers.

‘Good thinking, Stanley,’ Murphy said. ‘You ever do CROPS work when you were on the surveillance squad?’

‘Thankfully I wasn’t trained to that level – I never fancied living in a hole for days with my own piss and shit to keep me company.’

‘That’s not true – I remember your room in the section house before you got married,’ the Colonel quipped, to a roar of laughter.

‘All right, enough of the jokes!’ Murphy barked. ‘Anything else on George Ripley?’

Bax had some information. ‘All Saints Church is at one end of Gravel Lane, so on the off chance we popped in and had a quick word with the vicar about any forthcoming marriages. We struck lucky – Tina Ripley is getting married there this Saturday at three o’clock, but the vicar didn’t know where the reception is being held. I also got George and Tommy Ripley’s home phone numbers from the PO.’

Murphy looked pleased. ‘Excellent work. You two have been busy.’

‘Did the vicar ask why you wanted to know about that particular wedding?’ Kingston asked.

‘Yes, but we didn’t say who we were interested in and assured him we wouldn’t disrupt the service or reception. He gave us his word he wouldn’t tell anyone we spoke to him.’

‘Is Tina Ripley marrying our suspect Carl?’ Jane asked.

‘No, it’s a bloke called Duncan Sharpin, who’s no trace CRO.’

‘Hope he knows what sort of family he’s marrying into,’ Teflon joked.