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Zeph rolled his chair back from the bank of screens on his desk and rubbed his eyes.

He was tired. Too much time spent staring at a computer, though it wasn’t as if there was an option.

Staying ahead of the opposition was critical, and by opposition he meant not just the invasive activities of other countries or divisive elements in this country, but also colleagues who’d turned out to be more cutthroat than Zeph had anticipated.

So much for team work. Too many were desperate for recognition and promotion and they didn’t care who they stepped on or elbowed out of the way to get it. Zeph had been tricked a couple of times, not been given the credit he deserved, and he’d learned his lesson.

Zeph lived in Greenwich. He’d thought being in the town he’d enjoyed when his mum had been alive would be comforting, but it wasn’t.

He couldn’t buy anywhere, even if he’d had the money and sufficient income to support a mortgage, because he was moved around so much.

It was difficult enough when rental places wanted tenants to sign for a year, though the HR department sorted out any issue over breaking of contracts when he’d been seconded.

Zeph assumed there was always someone at GCHQ that needed a place to stay in Cheltenham that could take over his lease.

He’d tried to make his flat feel like a home, but he really wanted his own place where he could paint the walls, hang pictures, and put in a new kitchen and bathroom.

One thing he always took with him was his shark.

Not that he needed the reminder but it was a little like having Jack at his side.

If he’d been allowed to use social media, he’d have posted pictures of himself with Sharkie.

Instead, he’d made a little photo book of selfies.

He liked that he was the only one who got it.

Martin and Paulo thought he was nuts. Zeph and Sharkie up a mountain.

Zeph and Sharkie paddle-boarding. Zeph and Sharkie in the bath.

Zeph and Sharkie eating sushi. Good thing the shark wasn’t life-sized.

Zeph stretched, circling his arms and rotating his neck a few times before he rolled his chair forwards again.

He was using new facial recognition software along with body composition algorithms, designed by him, to look for a man from Saudi.

Khaled Al-Talib was on a terrorist watchlist, not because he was an active terrorist but because he gave money to them.

Once Al-Talib was spotted, it was a matter of going back over CCTV to see where he’d been, as well as checking where he was going.

Zeph had no idea what the guy was up to in London.

That was outside his remit. All he had to do was find him.

He wasn’t the only one looking. The man was a credible threat to British security so others were searching too.

He’d been seen entering the country on the Eurostar from Brussels, then disappeared, much to the irritation of senior figures in the security services and government.

MI5 were blaming MI6 and vice versa. But coming through UK passport control had at least given them an up-to-date photo to work with.

Al-Talib wasn’t the name on the passport he’d entered under but Zeph’s system had identified him.

When his program kicked in with a match on Oxford Street CCTV from yesterday, he almost fell off his chair. He quickly passed details to the others.

Robert Allen, Zeph’s boss, came over. “Well done, Zeph. Evan and Dora, you trace Al-Talib going forwards from Oxford Street. Matthew and Ben, you work back from there.” Robert turned to Zeph. “Any thoughts?”

“I could use the software to check out those in his vicinity and compare to the Eurostar footage. There might be other members of his network around him.”

“Good. Stay on that. The rest of you send Zeph details of Al-Talib’s route. And when you’ve gone as far as you can, do the same as Zeph and check those surrounding him.”

The computer program would do the work for him once Zeph set the parameters.

As he waited, he scanned the Oxford Street crowds and felt his jaw drop.

Was that…? Zeph zoomed in. Thomas? So was Jack there too?

He couldn’t see him. Nor could he look for him with the computer.

He had no photos. Though now he had one of Thomas.

Thomas’s image matched to nothing in the system, which was a relief.

Zeph saved the image, but to a special file, hidden well enough that it wasn’t obvious, and was immediately wracked with guilt.

By the end of the day, Al-Talib was under physical surveillance by a team of agents.

He’d been traced to a hotel by CCTV and Zeph’s system would pick him up whenever he was in range of a camera.

A job well done, but all Zeph could think about was Thomas.

He’d located him twice more in the same area as Al-Talib.

Coincidence or was Thomas following him?

He wondered if anyone else had picked up on Thomas, so he asked.

“Did anyone get anywhere with the people in Al-Talib’s vicinity?”

Negative answers from all but Evan. Though maybe it was someone else and not Thomas he’d spotted.

Unfortunately, it was Thomas. Zeph knew he shouldn’t feel protective of him. He wasn’t. But he was of Jack.

“What do you think?” Evan asked. “Suspicious?”

“How many cameras picked up Al-Talib? How many picked up this guy? He was only seen three times on the same street. Oxford Street is insanely busy. They were probably just walking the same way, checking out the same shops.”

Evan sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Coincidence. Plus, he’s not Asian and the wrong profile. Middle-aged Brit in a suit and tie.”

Much as it killed him to say it, Zeph pointed out, “They aren’t reasons to dismiss him. And we can’t be sure he’s a Brit.”

Evan blushed. “You’re right. So…we ignore him?”

“Yes, but we’ll keep looking.”

Zeph didn’t know what to do. He’d already misdirected Evan.

It might be coincidence but Zeph didn’t think so.

The correct thing would be to inform Robert of what he and Evan had noticed, but was it the right thing to do?

He was still dithering when everyone started to pack up and leave for the day.

His theories about witness protection had crumbled after what happened in Middleton.

Now they had a different focus. What was Thomas up to?

“Coming for a drink?” Evan called across the partition.

“Can’t, sorry.”

“I’m going to keep asking until you say yes.”

Zeph shot Evan a smile, hopefully not one of encouragement.

“We’re meeting at The Dog and Partridge if you change your mind.”

When everyone around him had gone, Zeph kept looking for Thomas. If he extended the parameters…

“What are you up to?” Robert asked.

It was all Zeph could do not to close the screen he was looking at. Guilt made him flame even though he was doing nothing wrong. Luckily the light level was low. If his face was flushed, Robert wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Still double-checking on anyone around Al-Talib on his route to the hotel. Vehicles and people.”

“Seen anything to worry about?”

“No.” Oh God.

“Don’t work too hard. We’ve found him now. We just need to not lose him again.”

Once Robert had moved off, Zeph kept looking, but he was tracking Thomas. His throat went dry when another camera showed him getting in a cab shortly after Al-Talib had done so. Thomas’s cab carried on once Al-Talib reached his hotel. Zeph kept following Thomas.

By the time he left work, he was pretty sure he knew where Thomas was staying. Not that he was interested in him per se, though he wondered what interest Thomas had in the Saudi, but Thomas would know where Jack was. And he’s going to tell you? Zeph sagged. He wouldn’t.

Even so, despite everything telling him not to, he was going to head for the New Cross Hotel. Zeph had been trained in countersurveillance techniques even though he had no intention of working in the field, but it was something all new recruits had to do. Now he had to do it for real.

He’d learned to vary his walking pace, to cross a road for no reason, pause to look in windows for reflections, be unpredictable, make random decisions.

At least he no longer had a limp to give him away.

Zeph caught the bus at his usual stop, went up to the top deck as he always did, but sat in a place that let him see everyone who got on or who didn’t get on, which was not his usual habit.

He also got off far too soon and switched onto another bus, then backtracked on the Tube.

By the time he was close to the hotel, he was sure he’d not been followed.

Well, as sure as he could be. He wasn’t an expert at this.

It was hard to keep track of everyone around you without looking as if that was exactly what you were doing.

For the last two days, CCTV had shown Thomas had returned to the hotel in the evening, at seven the first night, seven thirty the next.

Zeph had considered hacking into the hotel’s reservations but that wasn’t much use when he had no idea what name Thomas was using.

His best chance was to catch him coming back, assuming he did.

It was ten minutes to seven. That didn’t mean Thomas wasn’t already in his room but…

Zeph waited out of sight of the CCTV that covered the hotel entrance.

At twenty to eight, he was about to give up when he saw a figure heading down the road who looked the right build.

Zeph took a deep breath and hurried to intercept him before cameras could pick up either of them.

If it wasn’t Thomas, he’d just keep walking.

But it was. For a moment, Thomas looked as though he was going to pretend not to know him, then he came to a halt and gave a slight nod.

“Hello, Zeph.”

“Can we have a chat?”