‘What kind of a lead?’

‘That’s kind of my point. There is no lead.’

Styles’s mouth rounded into a perfect goldfish-style ohhh. ‘So now we see if Anderson is headed to talk to people he shouldn’t be talking to.’

‘It was the only thing that made sense, the only way Bolton could have known we were listening in through Carter, or that we were going to pick him up at his club. I figured the only way to test it out was to feed him a line. Stands to reason he wouldn’t make contact from his phone; too easy to trace if anyone looked. My guess was he’d either call from a payphone, or he’d go and see him in person, warn him off.’

‘And?’

‘And he was out the door within five minutes of me spinning him the lie. I watched him go across the road into the shopping centre and use one of the payphones, then jump in his car. That’s when I came and got you. Best case he’s leading us to Bolton; worst case, if it’s someone lower he’s meeting with, we snap a picture to confirm, then stick him in a room when he gets back until he gives us what we need.’

‘What about Campbell? Does he know?’

‘Not yet. That’ll keep till we know for sure.’

‘You know there’s a chance that either he or Milburn will try and sweep it under the carpet, don’t you?’

‘At this stage I don’t give a shit about what happens to that tub of lard up there,’ he said, gesturing towards the Honda. ‘All I want is justice for Evie and Natasha, and that means Bolton behind bars; Locke too if he ordered it. I’ll worry about making sure Anderson gets what’s coming to him after that.’

Styles nodded. ‘Alrighty then.’

The rest of the drive was in relative silence, neither of them relishing the idea of taking in one of their own. They almost lost him once, but caught up thanks to a fortuitous set of traffic lights. Porter ran through a mental list of potential locations for Bolton, weighing each up against the direction they were headed. He glanced at a sign for a roundabout ahead: four possible exits. Anderson’s indicator flashed to show he intended to take the first and head left. Left would send him towards Gravesend.

‘He’s got some balls, I’ll give him that.’

‘Who, Anderson?’

‘No, Bolton. Five minutes’ time, you watch, we’ll be at Atlas.’ Porter gave a humourless smile. ‘Size of that place, even he can find a corner to crawl into. Think about it, they must have hundreds of shipping containers out in the yard, never mind the warehouse.’

‘So what’s our play when we get there?’ asked Styles.