‘Mr Carter,’ James Bolton practically growled, in a voice low enough to rival Barry White. ‘Going somewhere in a hurry?’

Carter instinctively looked in Patchett’s direction, cursing himself for doing so in case Bolton saw the fear in his eyes.

Stay cool. Act normal. Just look him in the eye and answer him.

Carter gave what he hoped was a confident smile, though it felt more of a nervous grimace. ‘Me and Andy had just finished up. I was gonna head back home.’

‘Stick around,’ said Bolton. ‘Might have a job for you. I’ll come find you after Mr Patchett and I have had a little chat.’

Bolton brushed against both sides of the doorway as he squeezed through. Carter stepped back to let him past.

‘I’ll hang round outside, then,’ he said as cheerfully as he could muster.

‘You do that, son.’ Bolton smiled, a strange thing to see, with all the creases on his face in the right place but none of the emotion behind it. He slapped the door shut in Carter’s face with a hand the size of a hardback novel, without saying another word.

Carter stared at the door for a second, contemplating whether to try and eavesdrop, as much for his own nosiness as those he knew were listening in, but thought better of it. James Bolton was not a man you wanted questioning your intentions, let alone doubting your loyalty. He swallowed hard and retreated to the relative safety of the reception area to take a load off his feet until Bolton was ready for him.

A heavy silence descended on the interior of the car, punctuated only by Carter’s slightly ragged breathing.

‘I don’t like this, guv. Not one bit.’ Simmons chewed nervously on her bottom lip. ‘Bolton doesn’t bother with the likes of Carter. Why would he line him up for a job now?’

‘If it gives us something solid on Bolton, who cares?’ said Gibson. ‘Bravo team, have we got eyes on Bolton and Patchett?’

‘Eyes on both,’ crackled the response. They had lost the audio, of course, without Carter, but a visual was better than nothing at this stage. ‘Bolton is doing the talking. Patchett is just sat there with a look like he’s shitting his pants.’

‘All units stand by. Nobody moves until Bolton clears the scene and I give the word.’

Simmons heard a shuffling noise, and realised it was Gibson bouncing his leg up and down on the seat. The nervous anticipation that came with a stakeout was infectious. She realised her own breathing had fallen into sync with Carter’s, which echoed through the car’s speakers. Looking across at Gibson, she saw he had closed his eyes like he was meditating.

Zen and the Art of the Stakeout.

Time stretched out for what seemed an eternity before Bravo unit chipped in with an update.