Detective-sergeant Maskelyne looked at his watch for the third time in fifteen minutes. His contact was late. Worse, the pot of tea sitting on the table in front of him had been stewing for almost twenty minutes.

There was the sound of wood scraping on tiles, and Maskelyne's contact sat down at the table. "Sorry I'm late. I had to make sure I wasn't being followed." The man waved away the waitress who was hovering nearby. It was obvious that this was going to be a short meeting.

Maskelyne grunted. "And hello to you, George. What's the matter? Your guilty conscience coming after you?"

"Ha ha." George reached into the sugar bowl at the side of the table and pulled out a handful of sugar cubes. "I thought they removed your sense of humour when they promoted you."

"Sometimes it grows back." Maskelyne glanced around the steamy interior of the greasy spoon café that he had chosen for the rendezvous. checking to see if anyone was paying attention to him and George. "So - what is it?"

George popped one of the sugar cubes into his mouth and began to crunch on it. "You remember I told you about the Spencers?"

"Mmhmm." Maskelyne nodded curtly in response.

"Well, they got their gelly man. It means the job's a go."

"So, when's the job taking place, George?" Maskelyne kept the tone of his voice low and conversational, avoiding the temptation to ape George's conspiratorial whisper. "We want to catch them with their trousers down. Metaphorically speaking."

"Thursday," George said, and put another sugar cube into his mouth. He sucked on it for a moment. "They still need to get the explosives."

"And the target?"

"No change."

"Good." Maskelyne took a mouthful of now-bitter tea and grimaced. He reached for the sugar bowl, then stopped. George did not exactly have a reputation for hygiene, and today his odour was particularly ripe. "What about you?"

"I was hoping you could do something about that." George's voice now had an unpleasant, wheedling note to it. "I can't not go with them. And you know I'm a good man. Honest I am."

"Just a victim of society, eh George?" Maskelyne considered his options, then came to a conclusion. "I'll sort something out."

"So long as I come out of this spotless, Mister Maskelyne. You don't want to lose a valuable man like me, do you?"

Detective-sergeant Maskelyne stared at the unkempt, pungent figure sitting before him. "Spotless. Right."