‘No, and I’m not going to,’ she whispered back. ‘Carl Winter’s not involved and doesn’t have a clue about what George or the others have been up to. Can I have a read of the statements for the Shoreditch job after you’ve faxed them?’

He nodded. ‘Wait till you see what they did to the supervising guard – it’ll give you nightmares.’

*

Jane was sitting at her desk reading the statements in chronological order when Bax answered the phone.

‘Jane, it’s Paul Lawrence for you.’

He transferred the call to her.

‘Hi. You still mad at me?’

‘I wasn’t mad . . . just bloody knackered. I made some enquiries about Anthony Nichols with a QC who’s prosecuted a few murders I’ve given evidence in. He didn’t know him personally, but made some phone calls. Apparently Nichols is working for a dodgy firm of solicitors—’

‘I thought he was disbarred?’

‘He was, but that doesn’t stop him from overseeing cases or attending a police station as a suspect’s advisor. He just can’t appear in court as a legal representative.’

‘The law’s an ass. Did your friend know which firm?’

‘Russell and Cartwright – they’re in Curtain Road, Shoreditch.’

‘Did you say Curtain Road?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK. Thanks, Paul.’

Jane grabbed the office Yellow Pages. She flicked through the directory to the Solicitors section and found the address for Russell and Cartwright, then phoned City Road Police Station and spoke to the duty sergeant. Her hunch was right: the offices of the solicitors’ firm Tony Nichols worked for overlooked the Security Express depot.

She read through the statements slowly, making notes as she went. She thought the statement lacked fine detail and realised a local detective must have taken it, as the officer’s name wasn’t familiar to her. She wrote down the heights of the robbers as given by each guard. They all fitted within the range of the Ripley brothers, Graham Smith and, most notably, Aidan O’Reilly, who was six feet four. The supervisor said the man who threatened him had a deep voice, like George Ripley.

‘Teflon, I need your help.’

He walked over to her desk. ‘What with?’

‘These statements. There’s details here that make me think the Ripley gang may have done the Shoreditch job.’

Teflon laughed. ‘You’re becoming obsessed with them, Jane. They were all playing golf.’

‘The heights of the men all fit, one had a deep voice and repeatedly used the word “son” in a colloquial manner – just like George Ripley does.’

‘So do lots of people, Jane.’

She wasn’t going to be put off.