Several times we had got to the eye of the needle and been unable to reap what we had sewed. I had heard nothing when I was with the Dogs. Nothing, until I was flying out of Kabul back into London. Paul had been on. Peter 2 wanted to meet. In the next forty-eight hours. He was driving back to Košice. That might mean we could see evidence of something in transit – girls or something narcotic in his refrigerated white van. It was unlikely he was going to turn up with a van full of birds but you could never know. He was either on his way back from a job and wanting to brag about it, or he was taking something back. That was clear. His asking to meet at such short notice gave me hope we might finally seal the deal. I was still buzzing from the Three Dogs but we had to be there at all costs. There was nothing to lose and we had nothing left to go on. I was certain he was a man of habit and that he would take the same route time and time again. If only Costa Coffee at Clacket Lane Services on the M25 knew that this was Peter’s office.
