Things were looking positive though. The surgeon had told her that the two bullets had passed through his lungs but had fortunately not damaged either his heart or his spine, and that although the chest trauma was quite severe, the mortality rate for this type of injury was actually relatively low, at around seven per cent, which meant he had a very good chance of recovering, assuming no other complications arose.

She didn’t know how she’d be able to live with herself if he did die. Ever since the incident at his house, she’d been beating herself up over her failure to prevent Dale from shooting him. Her only consolation was that at least she’d managed to save Isabel from harm. Thankfully, the little girl didn’t seem too traumatised by the whole experience, although Bailey guessed that only time would tell. She was currently staying with her grandmother while Joanna and Roland made their way back from Cuba in all haste.

Once again, Bailey marvelled at how the little girl had managed to operate the handgun. When she’d asked her, she’d got the simple answer ‘Daddy showed me’ which, funnily enough, didn’t surprise Bailey all that much, considering what she knew about Frank.

On top of the black eye she’d got from being punched in the face by Dale, Bailey was utterly exhausted. Once again the job had taken it out of her and the failed outcome of the Molloy operation weighed heavily upon her, even though it wasn’t her fault. She had a very strong feeling that Rick would sell those guns one way or another, even if he didn’t have Dale there to help him any more. And without knowing where the guns were, there was very little the authorities could do to stop him. The thought of it depressed and angered her.

The Molloys had got away with it. Again. Just like they’d get away with doing what they tried to do to her at the restaurant. When the police had got there, they’d found no signs of the fracas that had taken place and no sign of Archie’s body. Bailey knew, with their expertise in evading any kind of criminal blame, trying to pin anything on them would be a long and arduous task.

Since Monday, she’d spent much of the past three days debriefing various teams both on the situation with the Molloys and also on the scope of Dale’s misdemeanours. In regard to the latter, she’d spent a long time talking to the Met’s anti-corruption unit – the Directorate of Professional Standards – and they were now investigating his affairs in depth. The very thought of him triggered a painful twinge of emotion. She’d let her guard down and she’d trusted him and she’d got burned, badly. She felt like God was trying to tell her something.

She tried to push him out of her mind and think about what she was going to do next. In light of the curtailed Molloy operation and along with what she’d been through generally, she’d been granted some time off. For one thing, she knew there wouldn’t be any undercover work for a while, not with Frank like this, but then maybe she needed a break from it anyhow, some time to get her head back in shape.