His attention sharpened. Something happening at last?

He relaxed again. The redhead was whispering in the ear of her mate and giggling. He interpreted the body language. She was apologetically nipping off to the van for a quick pee.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do while I’m away, Christalle!” she shouted with annoying archness.

Newstead cringed. His professional sensitivities were affronted. Stupid cows! They were enjoying themselves too much. Centre of attention and fancying themselves in the role. Well, all women were tarts at heart. He’d often heard it said. Why couldn’t she cross her legs? Or lay off the coffee? She should have thought! This manoeuvre was unscheduled-could put the whole operation at risk. All this detailed planning and someone forgot that girls need to go to the loo, especially when they’re feeling nervous.

He watched Shantelle hurry fifty yards down the road but his head whipped back to the pavement in front of him at the sound of screeching tyres. A black taxi had drawn up right by the other girl, Christalle. Gary Newstead leapt to his feet as the blonde put her head on one side, peered, and moved forward to greet the driver. He could have sworn that she knew him. Gary stayed uncertainly in place. No one else was moving in. Was this some police manoeuvre that hadn’t filtered down to bottom-feeders like him?

The driver of the black London cab leaned over, flung the door open, and began to speak to the girl. She was showing surprise but no sign of tension or fear. She leaned in close and talked back to him. This must be prearranged. Plain-clothes inspector calling by to take her pizza order? Just what he’d expect of this Keystone Cops op! The watcher decided he could stand down.

Abruptly, he tensed, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

The driver was hauling the blonde into the passenger seat. All Gary got was a glimpse of a black-shirted arm, a black watch strap, and a dark head. He heard the click of the doors as the automatic lock was applied. The cab drove off at speed.