37 Playing GodIt was a few minutes after seven am when McCormack reached his desk at Scotland Yard. He was always in early, choosing to avoid the traffic and get a head start on his colleagues and today was no different. He had spent the previous night waiting patiently for an update from Hunt, but had been disappointed and gone to bed at around eleven when his wife had returned home from a night out with the girls. The squad room was blissfully peaceful but, strangely, the coffee percolator gurgled productively in the small adjoining kitchen. The room was shrouded in darkness save for a few desks sporadically illuminated by spot lamps and McCormack opened the bank of blinds only to find that darkness still pervaded outside.
‘Neil! Can I see you for a moment please,’ Commander Harry Diamo
