The flat was little more than a bare room with untreated floorboards and no carpet. A whiteboard had been set up in one corner and there were several laptops and mobiles on a large folding table in the middle of the living room space which was serving as the centre of operations. Beyond the table and accompanying chairs, the only other furniture was an old knackered sofa by the window with an upturned cardboard box in front of it which appeared to be functioning as a rudimentary coffee table.

Bailey threw herself down onto the sofa and looked up at Frank and Dale who were sitting on chairs at the table.

‘Smells of kebab up here,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t be able to stand it for very long. I hate the smell of lamb.’

‘Well, if you don’t like lamb, Mustafa does a great chicken doner,’ said Frank.

‘Mustafa? Who’s he? The proprietor?’

Frank nodded. ‘He’s a good bloke.’

‘I remember seeing on the news one time that a kebab contains the equivalent of an entire wine glass full of fat,’ said Bailey.

‘If that’s the case, then Frank’ll be dead of a heart attack before this operation’s over,’ Dale replied. ‘He’s had about five already.’

‘You’ve got a kid to think about, Frank,’ chided Bailey. ‘Think of Isabel before you have another one.’

They all laughed, then with the banter over, Bailey moved onto the progress of the operation so far. The faces of Frank and Dale tautened and went serious as they paid her their undivided attention.

From time to time, Dale chipped in, clarifying the identities of the people she’d encountered.

‘The skinny pale one with the sunglasses sounds like Archie Steele. Contract killer. Associated with a string of murders and disappearances.’

‘And like I said,’ added Bailey, ‘I recognised Shane Reaper from the MMA circuit. I didn’t realise he worked for the Molloys though.’

‘He’s their lieutenant and head enforcer. Not as dumb as he looks.’

‘He’s got an excellent jiu-jitsu groundwork technique.’

‘That other one you mentioned,’ said Dale. ‘The baby-faced one who did most of the interrogation. His name is Stephen Drood. He’s their head of security. He’s a former burglar and an expert breaking-and-entering man.’

Bailey shivered involuntarily. ‘He made my skin crawl, the way he was looking at me. It was like he was almost trying to look inside my soul. I don’t think he particularly liked the cut of my jib. But then I didn’t particularly like the cut of his either.’

Dale raised one eyebrow knowingly. ‘He’s very close to Nancy, apparently. Her right-hand man, you might say. You want to be careful of him. He’s dangerous.’ He paused with a grave expression. ‘And, of course, let’s not forget the most important one. Ettie. She’s the real brains of the whole outfit.’

Bailey’s face creased quizzically ‘Ettie?’

‘Nancy’s Pomeranian.’

They all laughed.

‘Joking aside,’ said Frank, ‘it sounds like you’ve made some major headway, winning over Nancy and setting up Rick for the next phase of your infiltration. I’ll put in an application to requisition the seven hundred and fifty thousand. We’ll have it in cash ready for you to show him when the final bust goes down.’