18DAY SEVENTY-EIGHT
The same sun rose over both banks of the Thames, but this morning, the scenes it illuminated on either side of the river were worlds apart.
The crew of the Thames Clipper were up and active at the crack of dawn, maximising the benefit of that brief sliver of day when the world was bright so they could see, but still dark enough so they could hide. The sky was icy blue, the sun untroubled by clouds, and yet the light remained hazy. Smoke from the fires around Canary Wharf drifted across the Thames, giving everything an ethereal blur.
Allison looked for a boat to transport supplies from one end of the dock to the other while the others worked their way inland from the river, blocking all the access points between buildings to leave themselves a clear and uninterrupted
