‘This is our new WDS, Jane Tennison,’ Kingston told the others, as he lit a cigarette and handed one to the Colonel.

The rim of the Colonel’s cap cast a shadow over his steely eyes and accentuated his high cheekbones and dimpled chin.

‘Hello,’ Jane said.

‘You really been posted to the squad?’ the Colonel asked as he lit his cigarette.

‘Yes, sir.’ She put her hand out to shake his.

He didn’t reciprocate. ‘Well, you’ve got a bit more essence than most plonks.’

Jane didn’t have a clue what he meant by ‘essence’ and wasn’t sure she should ask.

Kingston laughed. ‘Gorman’s not an officer – he’s an ex-corporal and just a lowly DC, who thinks you’re better looking than most female officers.’

Jane blushed, embarrassed that the Colonel thought she had ‘essence’.

‘My father was a soldier and served in the Second World War.’

He glared at her as he pulled up the sleeve of his T-shirt, revealing a globe with a laurel wreath on either side and an anchor at the bottom, with the Latin words Per Mare, Per Terram underneath.

‘I’m a Bootneck not a Pongo! I was a Marine Commando in the Royal Navy before I joined the Met. My name’s Ken, but this bunch of knobheads decided to call me the Colonel. The tattoo is the Marines’ insignia and the Latin means “By Sea, By Land”.’

‘Ironic really as he can’t swim,’ Cam laughed.

‘Shut up, OFD,’ the Colonel said, and looked at Jane. ‘In case you’re wondering, OFD means “only the fucking driver”, and he’s only a temporary DC.’

‘I like to think of myself as a shit-hot taxi driver without whom they’d get nowhere,’ Cam replied, as he went the wrong way around a roundabout to turn right.

Kingston smiled. ‘As much as we all hate to admit it, Constable Cameron Murray is the best Class 1 driver in the Met. He even souped up this car’s engine himself so it outperforms every other Flying Squad vehicle.’

Jane could sense the mutual bond of respect and camaraderie among the officers and felt a bit of an outsider. She instinctively knew that she would have to prove herself a capable detective if she wanted to become part of the team.

‘What should I do when we get there?’ she asked, wanting to show her enthusiasm.

‘Stay in the car with Cam,’ Kingston and the Colonel said in unison.

‘Central 888 from MP, receiving, over?’ the same male voice from the Met’s control room asked over the radio.

‘888 receiving,’ Kingston replied.

‘A Securicor van has pulled up at the bank and three men dressed in blue boiler suits, donkey jackets and head masks have just left the vehicle.’

‘They’re going to rob the van, not the bank,’ Kingston said calmly. ‘We’re about two minutes away and approaching silent,’ he replied.

Cam switched off the car’s siren.

*