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The driver was wearing a scarf around the lower half of his face, but his eyes met James’s in total shock.

James lifted his gaze and saw one of the robbers was holding a gun at the guards, and the other was leaning into the van. They had scarves tied around their faces, too.

The man holding the gun swung it in James’s direction and pulled the trigger, and James ducked behind the car.

It sounded as if the bullet ricocheted off the car’s roof, and the driver swore.

The wail of sirens was growing, and so was the rev from the engine of the thieves’ car. James moved back a little just as the two men ran for the car, one still pointing the gun at him, and jumped in on the far side.

James smashed his baton down on the driver’s side of the front windscreen, and heard a satisfying crack moments before the car reversed away, did a screaming about turn, and drove toward the police car that was approaching.

At the last moment, the police driver lost his nerve and pulled out of the way, and the sports car fishtailed a little as it accelerated away.

“Are you all right?” James asked the two guards.

They were staring at the vanishing car with slack expressions, and his question seemed to galvanize them.

“Thanks, guv.” One turned and pulled a black velvet bag out of the truck—it looked very small for the size of the van transporting it. “And they didn’t get the goods.”

Thank God for that, James thought, because it was a balls up in every other respect.

A Wolseley came screeching around the corner and Layman leapt out, hurrying straight over to where James was standing with the guards.

“They had a gun,” James said. “And they took a shot at me. Fortunately no one was hurt and they didn’t get the diamonds, but they did get away.”

Layman spun around, looking down the street, and then spun back. “Can we get the bullet?”

They already knew it would match, but they would need it to tie this attempted robbery to the others.

James looked over at where he’d been standing. “I was on the driver’s side of the car when they took the shot, and I’m sure I heard the bullet strike the roof and ricochet.”

“Here it is.” Hartridge stood in the middle of the street, pointing down at his feet.

“If it hadn’t ricocheted?” Layman asked.

“It might have hit me in the chest,” James admitted. “But probably not. I ducked down pretty fast.”

“This is the second time they’ve taken a shot at you,” Layman said. “I’ve been in the Met for twelve years and I’ve never had anyone shoot at me in all that time.”

“What I’d like to know,” James said, “is how they knew about this delivery. It’s got to be an inside job, or someone’s been hanging around pubs, chatting to the staff.”

“They came at the very moment the truck pulled up?” Layman asked.

“Yes, but the staff knew when the truck was coming. Hartridge went into the cafe the staff use for their breaks to see what he could pick up, and just before this all happened they started paying the bill and leaving to get ready to accept the shipment.” James glanced at Hartridge, who was crouched down beside a uniformed officer as he carefully took the bullet into evidence.

“That’s interesting.” Layman glanced Hartridge’s way, too. “His idea to hang around the cafe, or yours.”

“His,” James said. “It was a good one.”

“Indeed.” Layman sighed. “Well, at least, as you say, no one got hurt, and the diamonds are safe, in that order. It’ll sweeten the pot a little when I report that we didn’t get them to the boss.”

Something had gone badly wrong.

Sarah tried to contain her glee, but it was difficult.

She sat halfway down the stairs, listening to the argument, wishing she could risk going all the way down to the door and leaning her ear against it, but if Robby or Jackman decided to come get her, she didn’t want them to find her listening at keyholes.

“One of you must have talked.” Jackman’s voice was low and mean.