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‘Who?’

‘Whoever’s supposed to have set us up.’

‘Because he clearly knows what he’s doing.’

‘You think he could be ex-military?’

‘What are you driving at?’

She sat up straight, a new idea taking root. ‘You think this guy Deke is the one, yeah?’

‘For the moment. He certainly fought in that bar as though he’d been trained.’

‘You noticed he was wearing leather wrist-bands?’

‘Sure.’

‘Were they an affectation, do you think, or to cover something up? Because when I was in Iraq, there was this shadowy group we used to hear about. A British commando outfit called the Special Desert Reconnaissance unit. They carried out covert operations, sabotage, counter-terrorism, that sort of thing. They also had a rep for being ultra-ruthless. I mean – these hanging-disembowelments, they’d have been typical of the SDR.’

‘Were they investigated over the Iraq killings?’

‘I don’t know. That would have been classified. But the main thing is … their nickname was “Scorpion Company”.’

‘Cool. But how does that help us?’

‘It was vanity on their part, a kind of tradition of the outfit since World War Two. SDR troops always had a scorpion tattooed on the inside of each wrist.’

‘And that’s what the wrist-bands were concealing?’ Heck said.

‘They could have been.’

They were now passing through Bowdon, two or three minutes from the motorway junction. Heck eased his foot off the pedal, pulling away down a narrow side street.

‘What’re we doing now?’ Lauren asked.

‘Just a quick diversion.’

‘What happened to us getting back to London?’

‘We will do. But you can’t beat good intel.’

They parked in a lot attached to a small, prefabricated building, which looked like an annexe to a suburban infant school but was actually the local library.

‘You want me to come in with you?’ Lauren asked.

‘Best if you don’t.’

‘Danger round every corner here as well, hey?’

‘No, but local plod will be looking for you too by now.’

‘Me?’ she said, surprised.

‘You’re ex-services, Lauren. They’ll have your prints on file.’

‘I didn’t leave any prints at that crime scene. I made sure of it.’

‘But you might have done during the bar fight.’

‘Heck, this is ridiculous …’

He opened his door. ‘Don’t underestimate cops, Lauren. It’s easy these days to read the newspapers and believe they’re a bunch of politically correct do-gooders, who spend every shift at diversity seminars rather than fighting crime. But that isn’t the case. They’re as smart and efficient as they ever were. If they’re looking for me, they’ll very likely be looking for the black chick who’s with me. Better if you stay here.’

‘Alright.’

‘There’s one thing you could do for me.’

‘What?’

‘Got any spare change?’

‘Change?’

‘Yeah, you know … as in shrapnel, cash?’

She handed him all the silver she had, and waited in the vehicle while he sloped across the car park to the library entrance. Inside, there was a photocopier/fax machine, which the librarian – a curt lady with glasses on a chain – said he could use so long as he paid twenty pence per sheet. Outside the main room, in the lobby, he found a payphone and put a call through to the CID Admin office at Deptford Green Police Station. To his relief Paula Clark answered.

‘It’s Heck,’ he told her nervously – not sure what kind of reaction he would get.

‘Oh hi,’ she replied. Clearly she wasn’t yet aware that anything was amiss. ‘I thought you were on leave?’

‘I am, sort of. I want to clean up some paperwork first.’

‘Okay, well … what can I do for you?’

‘If you’ve got a spare minute, I’d like you to access CrimInt for me. Just to check someone out.’

‘Can’t you do that yourself?’

‘Not at this moment, no.’

In fact, Heck could have. The library also had a computer with an internet connection, but if he’d accessed the Metropolitan Police’s main criminal intelligence network with his own password, they’d trace it back to the terminal he’d used, and that would be another clue to his whereabouts.

‘Is this important, Heck?’ Paula asked. ‘Only I’m a bit busy.’

She’d never been the most cooperative woman, even when officially his secretary. Well aware where her responsibilities began and finished, she rarely did anything beyond those limits, so it was probably expecting a lot of her to help him now.

‘It would be really useful to me if you could do it,’ he pleaded.