‘That was a real deal that went down out there,’ he said, crossing to the sofa and sitting down. ‘The Drugs Squad’s intention was to pick up the bloke you sold the drugs to. You were supposed to have a fairly hairy time but be given the opportunity to escape. Unfortunately, you didn’t play it the way we were all expecting you to. And chummy walked away with a parcel of drugs that was supposed to be back in our hands by bedtime.’

Carol swallowed hard. This was exactly the kind of fuck-up she’d wanted to avoid. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

Morgan shrugged. ‘Don’t be. Somebody should have had the wit to cover the emergency exit. You, on the other hand, exhibited initiative under pressure. You acted in character throughout. You dealt with those two bruisers from the NCIS football hooligan squad with intelligence and style, you did everything you could to cover your tracks and change your appearance, and you outsmarted the opposition right along the line. We couldn’t have asked for a better display of your talents, DCI Jordan.’

Carol stood up a little straighter. ‘Thank you, sir. So, do I get the job?’

A shadow crossed Morgan’s normally open features. ‘Oh yes, you get the job.’ He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and fished out a card. ‘My office, tomorrow morning. We’ll give you the full brief then. Right now, I’d suggest you go home and make whatever arrangements are necessary to cover your absence. You’ll be going away for a while. And you won’t be able to go home again until the job’s done.’

Carol frowned. ‘I’m not going to Europol?’

‘Not just yet.’ He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. ‘Carol, you get this assignment right, and you can more or less write your own ticket.’

She noted the use of her first name. In her experience, senior officers outside your own team only ever got that informal when the shit was heading for the fan and they hoped you’d be the one standing between it and them. ‘And if I get it wrong?’

Morgan shook his head. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

Chapter 13

13

There was never any shortage of work for idle hands on board the Wilhelmina Rosen. The old man had set the standard, and he was determined not to fall below it. The crew clearly thought he was obsessive, but he didn’t care. What was the point in having one of the most beautiful Rhineships on the water if you didn’t maintain it to the highest standard? You might as well be piloting one of the modern steel boxes that had as much personality as a cornflake packet.