No sign. Checking her watch, she spoke into the VHF. ‘Where’s the package?’ The reply from Janssen took longer than it should have. ‘Stand by.’ She needed five minutes to get into position. The longer they waited, the more chance of her being seen. She was the only one of the team out in the open, albeit underneath the darkened arches of Lambeth Bridge. She switched channels. ‘Sammy –’ ‘I know, Nad, Janssen’s being a real dick. He must have it on radar by now. Maybe you should get in the water, the bridge is pretty clear. Don’t forget the chopper’s blades.’ How could she forget? ‘When are you going to make the call, Sammy?’ ‘Thirty seconds. Can’t leave it any longer.’ She spat into her dive mask, added a little water and used her forefinger to clean the glass, to prevent it fogging up later. ‘Make the call, Sammy, I’m going in.’ She zipped the radio in its waterproof case, donned the hood of her all-black wetsuit, and shrugged on the black, waistcoat-like stab jacket that would control her buoyancy and support her air tank at the back.
