One of the two undercover officers turned briefly towards his vehicle, indicating they were about to head inside.

Don’t mess this up, McNab said in his head.

Now he truly was in the waiting game, when anything and everything could go wrong, and he, on the outside, could do nothing about it but wait.

His own gear switched on, he spoke to the comms van, parked round the corner and out of sight.

‘All good, sir. It’s noisy in there, but we’re picking up DS Clark and the guys okay.’

He could have gone to sit in the van with them, but he felt compelled to keep his eyes on that door.

A gang of females were now on approach. High and drunk, they skittered along the pavement on shoes that would never permit them to run from trouble. By the end of the night no doubt some of them would be sitting weeping barefoot on the pavement, their fun turned swiftly to misery.

Suddenly there was a skirmish at the door when one of the bouncers put his hands on one of the women, only to discover that the pack had claws and weren’t willing to be manhandled.

McNab’s estimation of the women rose. Maybe they weren’t as out of their heads as he’d imagined.

The tiff over, the women went inside, leaving the pavement bare again.

In the sudden silence, time slowly drifted past him and he began to fill the emptiness with small, insignificant details. The rumble of a corporation bus passing in the distance. One of the bouncers lighting up a cigarette and beginning a conversation with his mate.

It was the car winding its way much too slowly past him, blocking his view of the entrance, that snapped him back to life.

‘What’s happening?’ he checked with the van.

‘Clark’s at the bar with DC Martin.’

‘And Willis?’ McNab said.

‘He’s with a guy, dark hair, bearded, mid-twenties. They’re in an alcove, talking. DC Sanders believes that’s our mark, sir.’

McNab felt his heart rate quicken. The plan was for Willis to introduce Janice to the mark. Let them get acquainted. Janice had been well up for that, but his own gut had rebelled. He hadn’t wanted his partner anywhere near a man who could rape and torture a woman, then set her alight.

There was a pause, then, ‘Willis is beckoning Clark over, sir.’

McNab reminded himself it was what they wanted. Despite this, he felt his chest tighten, knowing he should be in there with her.

‘What’s happening?’ he demanded.

‘Talking, sir, just talking. And laughing.’

‘Fuck’s sake,’ McNab said. ‘Do we still have eyes on Willis?’

A moment’s silence, then a slightly worried voice, ‘Currently in the Gents. Sanders checking.’