When he was seated again, he held the photo in one hand and the gun in the other.

And waited for the filth to arrive.

72

Laura

Our convoy of police vehicles covered the six miles from Vauxhall to Canary Wharf in just fifteen minutes.

My blood began to race in anticipation as we approached Roy Slack’s luxury apartment building overlooking the Thames.

I was praying that the woman would be there with him so that we could seize them both in one fell swoop and prevent further bloodshed.

But I wasn’t overly optimistic because I just couldn’t imagine someone who looked like Maria Rodriquez sharing a bed with a slug like Roy Slack.

There was no messing about when we arrived at our destination. Officers armed with assault rifles and pistols immediately sealed off the building and entered through imposing front doors with stained-glass panels.

The concierge and a liveried doorman were asked about Slack and both confirmed that he was his apartment on the top floor. When shown the passport picture of Maria Rodriquez they both said they hadn’t seen her, and it sounded to me like they were telling the truth.

There were two lifts and we used them to carry us up through thirty floors to the top.

A plan of action had already been agreed – which was to batter down the door and burst right in. In the best-case scenario he’d be in bed and wouldn’t put up any resistance. If he wasn’t then they would have to react to whatever situation presented itself.

I drew a tremulous breath when we stepped out of the lift into the corridor on the thirtieth floor. Then as I watched the team take up positions, my heart started drumming frantically.

This was the moment I’d been waiting for. When we finally came calling on London’s most ruthless gangster with enough evidence to put him away.

But we weren’t there yet, and until we put the cuffs on him I feared it could all still go wrong.

‘We move on three,’ the team leader said quietly.

An officer with a steel battering ram stepped up to the door and on the count of three he swung it against the metal lock. It took two blows to force the door open and officers stormed in, yelling at the tops of their voices.

Then suddenly they fell silent and I thought that was because they’d caught Slack unawares and he was being restrained.

But I was wrong. After a few seconds word came back to us that a stand-off situation had developed.

Drummond was asked to go into the apartment and I simply followed behind. We walked along a tastefully furnished hallway to the living room where two officers stood just inside the doorway.

My stomach clenched as tight as a knot when I saw that they were pointing their rifles at Roy Slack.