BECAUSE THE NIGHT
In my business sometimes you need an oppo. An op-pro if you like. A professional. A wingman. Roy Caton was my go-to of choice. Me, his. He was ex-job like me. Disgraced ex-job like me as it happens. Scratching a living as a private investigator. Just like me. But that wasn’t all. Roy had one specific talent. Although he was six foot four, sixteen stone, and dressed like a dandy, he could quite literally vanish at will. Dress him in nothing but one of his garish kaleidoscope patterned ties, and stand him in the middle of Oxford Street at rush hour and no one would notice. I asked him once how he did it. Turned out before joining the police he had been in the army. A sniper. He’d sometimes have to lie for days on end, wearing a nappy under his camouflage, being nibbled on
