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‘What are the odds against someone on Harrison Cummings’s security detail also having a personal connection to Kane Hunt?’

‘High, Poe.’

‘How high?’

‘Enough for it to be a remarkable coincidence.’

Poe looked at Flynn. ‘Boss?’

Flynn paused but not for long. ‘I’ll have him picked up,’ she said.

She went off to make her phone call, returning two minutes later.

‘Price didn’t report for his shift and his phone is switched off,’ she said. ‘A sergeant from the Territorial Support Group is on his way. They’ve been tasked with finding him.’

Poe grunted. TSG, the unit that replaced the controversial Special Patrol Group, got all the unpleasant jobs. They were good, though. Tough men and even tougher women. Had to be: their primary role was responding to public disorder, from bar fights to fully fledged riots.

After Flynn had briefed the sergeant from TSG, she returned to the command trailer. She was carrying two cups of coffee and a doughnut. She handed Poe a cup then took a bite from the doughnut. Raspberry jam squirted out the side and on to the back of her hand. She licked it off.

She saw him watching. ‘Get your bloody own,’ she said.

SPAD Wilson entered the trailer. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘We haven’t caught him yet,’ Poe said.

‘But you will. There are over thirty thousand police officers in the Met and they’re all looking for Brian Price. It’s only a matter of time.’

‘It’s what we do,’ Flynn said.

‘I’ll be going back to work now but here’s my card if you need to get in touch.’ She handed Flynn a gold-trimmed business card then left.

‘I thought this case was going to get all funky, Poe,’ Flynn said. ‘Finishing it quickly makes a nice change for once.’

Poe sipped his coffee and said nothing.