But he did have a problem, and a big one, with killing kids. Which he’d have little choice but to do if he pressed ahead now, to avoid leaving witnesses. The nanny, too. Messy. Very messy. While others in his profession might not have such scruples, Wolf just wasn’t enough of a bastard for that. And so, Wolf decided to hold back and wait. Improvisation wasn’t a problem for a man of his training and experience. He settled back and kept watching the house.

At 9.33 p.m., the hit now more than two hours overdue, Abbott re-emerged from his front door and started walking briskly towards his car. He’d changed his casual attire for a suit and tie and was carrying a leather overnight bag. It seemed like he was going somewhere, leaving the nanny alone to take care of Emily and Paul. Wolf had been told nothing of any planned excursions – then again, if not for Debbie’s interference, the mission would have been over and he’d have been long gone by now.

Wolf watched as Abbott climbed into his Lexus and set off up the driveway. By the time the car had reached the road, Wolf had already slipped away and hurried back to the Audi saloon he’d hidden around the corner. Like all the vehicles he drove in the course of his work, it had untraceable number plates and officially did not exist. He quickly caught up with the Lexus and followed at a discreet distance as Abbott hustled off down the country lane. Wherever he was going, the man seemed to be in a hurry to get there.

This new twist offered Wolf a fresh opportunity to finish the job, if he could track his target to a more suitable location. Having laid eyes on Abbott’s kids he felt a very slight pang that, thanks to him, they would never see daddy again. But that was the nature of Wolf’s profession. Life could be a bitch sometimes. He stayed on the Lexus, never letting it out of his sight but with always at least one vehicle between it and his Audi. Politicians, as a rule, weren’t very highly trained in recognising when they were being tailed, but you couldn’t be too careful.

The Lexus led northwards for fifty miles, taking the A23 and the M25 into Surrey. He seemed to be heading for Guildford, but then turned off the main road and headed into deep countryside. Wolf hung right back and kept following. Then, at three minutes to eleven, Abbott turned into the gates of a manor estate surrounded by woodland. Wolf drove on past the entrance, slowing down just enough to see the Lexus’s taillights disappearing down the oak-lined private road and the plaque on the stone gatepost that said KARSWELL HALL. The stately home itself was out of sight of the quiet country road.