They passed the stadium for the Salford City Roosters Rugby League club and kept going, continuing beneath the interchange where the M60 met the M602. Ziggy’s report was accurate; the morning rush hour had died down and traffic was flowing easily. They reached Worsley, and Milton navigated onto the eastbound A580. They reached the junction that Milton had selected during yesterday’s scouting and turned off the road. He drove on until he reached a small business estate with a car park between two rows of industrial buildings. He slotted the Galaxy into an empty space and waited until Chase parked up alongside.

He opened the door and hopped down.

“Good luck,” Hicks said.

“And you. See you after.”

Milton went over to the Mondeo and got into the front next to Chase.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Just follow the plan. I’ll be there if you need me.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I know you can. But we don’t know how he’s going to react when his day goes bad. He has form for violence.”

“Relax. I got this.”

Milton nodded and clapped Chase on the shoulder. He opened the door again and got out.

The earpiece crackled. “This is Ziggy. Target is on the move.”

“This is Milton,” he said into the microphone. “Confirmed. I’m on foot, heading back to the junction. Over.”

Chase and Hicks reversed out of the parking spaces, turned the vehicles around and drove south again, retracing their route.

Milton set off, walking briskly.

* * *

Ziggy popped the top on a tube of Pringles and stuffed a handful into his mouth. His visit to the junction at midnight last night had yielded dividends. First of all, he had hijacked the live feed from the traffic camera on the pedestrian bridge that was just a little distance from the crossroads. He had that feed on one of three screens, watching as traffic rushed beneath it. His second screen included two command lines: the first would communicate with the override that he had installed in the control box that oversaw the traffic lights at the junction, and the second allowed him to interfere with Jackson’s Bentley. His third screen included a muted police scanner tuned to the frequency used by the Manchester police, and a map with four moving dots: three showed the locations of the phones being used by Chase, Milton and Hicks, and a fourth represented the position of the anti-theft beacon in Jackson’s car.

Hicks and Chase were stationary, near to the junction with the main road.

Milton was walking along the side of the A580.

Jackson was approaching from the west.

He took out another handful of Pringles and slotted them into his mouth.

“This is Ziggy,” he said as he munched the crisps. “Target will be in the box in three minutes.”

* * *