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James tapped his shoulder. “Look ahead.”

All three of them stopped, and Layman turned to look behind him, and signaled to the other two members of his team who were trailing behind, looking on either side of the road for anything that might have been discarded from the van.

The two detectives joined them, and the five of them contemplated the white van, parked neatly in front of a house with a high green hedge.

“Do you think they’re still in there?” Hartridge murmured.

“Doubtful, but we’ll proceed as if they are,” Layman said. “We surround the van, and then I’ll call out for them to get out of the vehicle.”

James wished he had a baton, at least, but there was no way they could risk waiting for any kind of weapons. They had to move now.

He followed Layman’s lead, and the five of them formed a ring around the van, with Layman closest to the driver’s side.

“This is the police, step out of the vehicle,” Layman called, but there was no sound, and James hadn’t heard any movement within whatsoever.

Layman must have come to the same conclusion as him. “Go.”

They converged on the van, pulling the doors open.

It stank of burning rubber, and James noticed one of the wheel hubs was bent and touching the tire. No doubt there was a pool of oil on the road beneath it, too.

Inside the van there were loose papers, but the leather bags containing the wages for the big factory south of the river were gone.

The only reason he and Layman had been called in to this was that the robbers had waved around a gun that was a match for the caliber of weapon they were looking for, but in this case, shots had not been fired.

“We need fingerprints taken,” Layman was telling one of his men. “We need the van towed to the Yard, actually, so make that happen.” He looked at the house behind the hedge. “You going to come with me?” he asked.

James nodded. “Likely they just parked where there was a space, because that van looks like it was barely able to drive, but you never know.”

“Still, this is Holland Park,” Layman said. “All roads seem to lead here on this case.”

“True enough.” James opened the gate. He didn’t think this house was where the thieves lived, but at least one of them knew or had a place to hide in this area. They kept coming to ground here whenever they needed to disappear.

And he and Layman needed to work on smoking them out.

“We did it!” Pete did a little swagger around the room and then pulled a brown leather bag out of the big garden waste bag he’d carried in and dumped it onto the ground. “We fucking did it, mate.”

Robby grinned at him and pulled a second bag out, although he put his one down more gently.

Jackman had come in with them, and while Sarah had met him once, at her father’s office, this was the first time she’d seen him since Pete had killed her father. He was far slicker than Pete and Robby—older, better dressed, and much calmer.

“Settle down,” Jackman said, but he was grinning just as wide as Robby. He pulled the final bag out, but he didn’t set it down, he hung onto it.

He glanced around at the set up in the room, and his gaze went to the empty post bags.

“You’re done with going through the letters?” he asked.

“Yes, we didn’t do badly out of that. Not as good as today, but it was worth it.” Robby said.

“Good. You can show me the figures before I leave,” Jackman said, then he thumped Robby on the arm. “What a haul, eh?”

Robby did a little run on the spot, as if he couldn’t contain his excitement. “The look on those drivers’ faces when you cut across the high street and went up on the pavement.”

Pete gave a hoot. “I know! And the pedestrians. They scattered like . . .” He tossed his hands out.

“I said, settle down,” Jackman’s voice held just an edge of irritation. “We keep it quiet and low key.”

“Sure,” Pete was still smiling. “What a day.”