‘Come on, Bax, I need to get the motor fired up,’ the man behind him said in a broad Scottish accent, as he used a pickaxe handle to usher Jane and Bax to one side. He looked to be in his late thirties, and although slightly smaller, at about six foot two, he had a large beer belly.

Bax frowned. ‘All right, Cam, less haste more speed.’

Jane heard footsteps running down the metal stairs.

A male voice called out, ‘Right, I’m tooled up, so we’re good to go, Bax. The Guv and the Colonel are booking out their guns and will go in Cam’s car. Teflon is on his way round the front with Dabs in the Triumph for us.’

Jane instantly recognised the voice of Detective Sergeant Stanley, who she had worked with on the ‘Dip Squad’ a few years ago. They had also been involved in the hunt for an active IRA unit that had bombed Covent Garden Tube Station. Stanley had helped to disarm a car bomb and been awarded the Queen’s Police Medal for his bravery.

Jane looked up and saw the short, slim frame of Stanley tucking a police issue .38 revolver into a shoulder holster under his brown leather jacket. He still had his long, dark, straggly hair, but had grown a ‘Jason King’ style moustache, which on first sight didn’t suit him.

‘Hi, Stanley.’ Jane waved. She still didn’t know what his Christian name was, as everyone just called him ‘Stanley’.

‘Tennison, what are you doing here?’

‘I’ve been transferred to the Flying Squad.’

‘Have you? That’s news to me.’

‘And me,’ Bax said.

Jane thought it strange that no one seemed to know about her transfer, and began to wonder if she’d got the right starting day.

‘Are you off on a shout?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, we just got a call from Information Room. There might be a blagging about to go down in Leytonstone. Gotta go, so I’ll catch up with you later.’

Stanley hurried out of the building with Bax.

Jane started to walk up the stairs when two more men appeared, armed with .38 revolvers carried in belt holsters around their waists. The man in front was wearing a blue baseball cap and tight white T-shirt, which accentuated his muscular frame and large biceps. As he hurried down the stairs two at a time, Jane moved quickly to one side to let him pass.

The man behind wasn’t rushing and stopped in front of Jane. He had a chiselled jawline, defined cheekbones and a slightly misshapen nose, which looked like it had been broken in a fight. He wasn’t dressed casually like the others, and wore a tailored slim-fit grey suit and white open-neck shirt. He sniffed and stared at Jane with narrow eyes.

‘You Tennison?’

‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, sensing his air of authority.