‘We need to make time, Eva,’ said Gabriel, ‘you know how much this matters.’ She paused, relenting slightly. ‘Look, I’m not having a go, we’ve all been tied up, but this isn’t the time to take our eyes off the ball.’ She looked pointedly at the laughing officers surrounding Skeffington.

‘Sorry, ma’am, I’ll get on to it first thing.’

‘Thanks.’ Gabriel softened. ‘Maybe we need to approach this differently – go off-piste to unofficial sources.’

‘Are you still in contact with that woman from the Israeli embassy?’ said Bose.

‘Rachel Isaacs?’ said Gabriel. Isaacs was an old friend from her student days at Nottingham. Nominally, she was a cultural attaché at the Israeli embassy. In reality, she was a liaison officer for Mossad.

‘You know what, that’s a bloody stroke of genius, Eva. I’m overdue a lunch. I’ll see if she’s free tomorrow.’

Bose nodded and walked back to the laughter in the corner. Gabriel turned around to see Tennant standing behind.

‘I thought you were giving that line of inquiry a rest, Sophie,’ he said quietly.

‘I was, boss. But now we’ve got a bit of capacity, won’t do any harm to chase it up.’

Tennant shook his head softly. ‘And give them a bit of leeway.’ He nodded towards the officers scattered around the room. ‘They deserve a chance to celebrate. This has been a big win.’ He walked out.

#

Gabriel gazed out of the window. Even through the double glazing, Gabriel could hear the relentless thudding as the sleet smashed into the pane before sliding out of sight. How did Abu Mujahid manage to do this – to get into her head on the day she should be celebrating with the others? Through the window, she could see the street lights coming on as dusk fell over the wet streets. Gabriel looked out at the horizon, as if trying to find a glimmer in the darkening skies.

DAY 11

Saturday

CTOC, St Pancras, London

Campbell was smouldering with indignation.

Gabriel started. ‘He said what?’

‘They said they didn’t have the manpower on a Saturday morning and we should call back after the weekend,’ said Campbell. ‘I pointed out that this was an urgent inquiry, and he said everything was, and I quote, “fucking urgent with you lot” and hung up. Rang back and no answer. Tempted to go over there and knock on a door, ma’am.’

‘Unbelievable,’ said Gabriel. ‘We’re in the middle of a major investigation and some idiot at the MOD doesn’t want to work weekends? I’ll sort this out.’

She ushered Campbell away and scrolled through the contacts book, muttering under her breath. What was the matter with these people? It was the same with the media – anyone looking at the news would be forgiven for thinking the whole NRF gang had been banged up and the case done and dusted. Had they no idea how much more there was to do?

She found the name. Lieutenant General Peter Holsworthy, head of Home Command, based in Aldershot. She’d met him at a counter terrorism exercise in Wiltshire four months ago and he was a nice guy, if a bit awkward with women in positions of authority. When in doubt, go to the top.