Apart from the odd email from this unknown character trying to arrange a meet-up, nothing else in Peppa’s life was raising any red flags. She worked, she came home, sometimes in time to put her daughter to bed. And nights were spent alone online as she watched Netflix or surfed the internet for anything from ‘what developmental milestones a three-year-old should be reaching’ to ‘ways to get rid of mum tum’. There was the odd terse email exchange with her ex. But other than that life seemed quiet.

I wondered if she was happy or lonely.

At 10 p.m. I sent Geraint and Pixie home. Will was away for the night at some legal conference in Bristol and my mother-in-law was staying the night. I tried to convince myself my dedication to working late was down to the critically important mission we were on, as opposed to not wanting to have to make small talk with Gillian.

I went to the canteen and checked my emails as I ate a sandwich stuffed with pretty much everything I could find in the fridge. The nursery was requesting we bring in any unwanted bottles of wine for the school charity tombola they were holding in a few weeks. Unwanted wine? We were parents. All wine was wanted.

I left the canteen and, turning the corner, found myself face to face with a bald man in black, holding a gun. A not unusual sight down here.

Apart from the fact I had never seen him before.

My heart was hammering, but I kept my voice level.

‘Hi, you must be Greg. The computer is just this—’ I kicked him in the stomach as I was talking. He went down hard. He was back to his knees before I ran and jumped at him, knocking him backwards. His head made a deep clunking sound as it hit the concrete flooring. I picked up his gun and ran to the keypad on the wall ahead. I typed in a six-digit code triggering a silent alarm.

We were compromised.

For the first time in Platform Eight’s history we’d been infiltrated.

And it was on my watch.

I patted down the unconscious man. Nothing. No ID, no phone. Another Ghost. Activating the alarm meant all active Rats would be notified by emergency text. On a normal day that would mean within a few minutes I could expect anything from one to thirty colleagues blasting round the corner with an arsenal of weapons. But right now we were working as a shell and that meant only my unit was registered as active. Three Rats apart from me in operation. Only those three would get the emergency call to arms.

I had no idea how far away help was.

And I had no idea how many Ghosts were down here.

I needed more hands on deck.

I pulled out my phone and text Frederick. Nightmare! Gigi been dreaming she’s home alone and ghosts invading.