She clicked the bike into gear and Sean stepped back. He turned towards the station and raised a hand as Silva rode away.

Chapter Twelve

Sean kept his promise to call much sooner than she expected when her mobile trilled out late the next afternoon.

‘It was so good to see you yesterday, Becca,’ he said. ‘Better than good.’

‘Hmmm.’ Silva felt her defences slip but she tried to play it cool. It had been good to see him, but she didn’t want to get his hopes up. ‘I guess.’

‘Do you want to do it again sometime?’

‘Sure, Sean. Next time you’re back in the UK give me a call.’

‘So you wouldn’t be on for tomorrow, then?’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Something’s come up. I’ve got tickets for a special event here in London on Monday evening. Once in a lifetime. History in the making.’

‘Give me a hint. Theatre? Music? Sport?’

‘Sort of all three. I need a partner on my arm and you’re my first choice.’

‘There are others?’

‘Of course. They’re falling over themselves but you’ve got the first refusal.’

She felt herself wavering. Seeing him again had made her realise how much she missed him, how much she craved the simple human interaction between two people who were more than friends. She’d shut herself away after her spell in prison. Sure, there was Itchy and a couple of others, but she wasn’t close to them in the way she was close to Sean.

What the hell. ‘OK, I’ll—’

Sean hollered out something she didn’t hear, and then he was filling her head with timings and where to meet and what to wear.

‘What to wear?’ It wasn’t something Sean usually worried about. They’d spent the first three months they’d known each other in military fatigues.

‘It’s suited and booted. For me, at least. Just dress formal, I’m sure you’ll look great whatever it is.’

Silva thought about the handful of fancy clothes she had. ‘If you say so.’

They drove to Ipswich early Monday morning. On the way up Javed was a buzz of questions. One after the other. The incessant chatter began to annoy Holm. He was used to having space to think and had hoped the two-hour journey would allow his mind to drift round the subject of Taher and Tunisia and the mysterious informant who’d given them the tip-off.

No such luck.