The station was like she had never seen it, a real zombie-movie scene. No people, no trains, no movement. No silence, however. An alarm was going off over at the row of shops to the right of the platforms. One of those self-important fusspots had ignored their instructions and set the security system, then one of the uniforms must have tripped it when he put his head around the door to do a final check.

The left-luggage facility had enjoyed an upgrade a couple of years back, fitted out with new self-operated lockers that were opened using an electronic keypad. Customers could set their own four-digit code instead of carrying a key around with them, which meant that if they forgot it, it was a simple matter of the attendant on duty coding an override, thus saving on cutting replacement keys.

Once inside the left-luggage area, the contrast in the conduct of the two dogs could barely have been more pronounced. One of them was sniffing methodically up and down with the guarded air of a dog sitting by a dinner table trying not to come across as too optimistic in its hopes for a few leftovers, while the other zeroed in on a particular locker and began pawing at it like there was a bitch on heat inside, sitting on top of thirty kilos of fillet steak. Catherine wished she had been paying more attention to which one had been primed to sniff for which substance.

She got her answer when Cairns sent not for the EOD, but for the attendant to override the electronic lock.

The attendant looked anaemically pale with fear, and it was to avert the threat of him being physically sick that Catherine corrected Cairns’ omission and informed the guy, ‘It’s okay, it’s just drugs.’

And by God was it drugs. Cairns rolled out a mid-size charcoal-coloured fibreglass pull-along suitcase and placed it on the floor. He snapped open the catch and flipped up the lid to reveal that it was packed tightly with dozens upon dozens of bricks of brown powder wrapped in parcel tape.

‘Jesus,’ said the dog handler, whose charge was having to be held back. He squatted down next to the beast and it seemed to get the message.

‘Jackpot,’ Catherine observed. They wouldn’t know until they got it tested, but she strongly suspected this was pre-cut. In that form and that quantity, it was unlikely to be just waiting to be divided straight into several thousand tenner bags. ‘I think we’ve just intercepted several months’ worth of a major player’s supply.’

‘Aye,’ Cairns mused. ‘I’d call that explosive.’

‘Do you have any idea who this lot was meant for?’

‘Nothing concrete, but we’ll find out soon enough, because whoever was expecting to pick it up will throw some size of tantrum.’