‘What about an emergency signal?’ said Frank. ‘Just in case something drastic happens.’

Bailey paused and pondered a few seconds. ‘If the shit hits the fan, I’ll put my baseball cap on backwards.’

Dale’s eyes twinkled. ‘Things would have to be pretty drastic for you to make a fashion statement that extreme.’

They all laughed.

‘Okay, well assuming the guns will be there,’ said Frank, ‘the strike team will swoop in and arrest all the members of the gang that are there. We’ll also have a firearms team at the ready.’

‘Just make sure they know what I look like,’ said Bailey. ‘If it all goes south, I don’t want to end up with a bullet inside me by accident.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Frank replied. ‘Like I said, we’ll have a final meeting the day before it goes down. Only then will we reveal your identity to the rest of the team. For the sake of good OPSEC, we want to keep your identity secret until the very last minute.’

Bailey nodded in approval. She trusted Frank’s planning skills and knew he placed the utmost importance on operational security. She’d been through this kind of situation with him many times in the past on previous undercover jobs.

‘Who will “my man” be?’ she asked, referring to the other undercover officer who’d be functioning as the money man in the transaction.

‘We’re still confirming details of who that will be,’ said Frank. ‘But don’t worry. It’ll be someone dependable.’

She nodded in assent.

‘As you already know,’ he added, ‘we’re coordinating very closely with the National Crime Agency on all of this and some of their officers will be present at the bust. I can tell you they’re very excited about this, Bailey. You know, if this all goes down as planned, I reckon you’ll be looking at yet another commendation.’

‘Now let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ she muttered. For all their careful preparations, she knew from experience that these things never went quite to plan. And she had a nasty feeling that someone as cunning as Rick Molloy would have something unexpected up his sleeve.

64

Wendy Molloy eyed her husband sitting at the other end of the long oak dining table. It was a Tuesday evening and they were eating dinner – a Bluefin tuna steak accompanied by a bottle of grand cru Chablis – but the expensive food and wine tasted like ashes in her mouth, such was the bitterness that consumed her.

And the flowers had only aggravated her foul temper. A lavish bouquet of roses which now stood in one of the antique Chinese vases on the sideboard. They’d just served to confirm her worst suspicions about her husband. He never normally bought her flowers. It was so out of character that she knew he must be compensating for something. And she knew exactly what that was. It was that fucking slut, Kaia. He was seeing her next weekend.

‘So why the roses, darling?’ she asked, struggling to keep her voice light and cheerful-sounding.