Lewis was sat on an uncomfortable bench in the staff changing room, pulling on a pair of heavy trousers. It was a ritual that he seldom practiced these days, and as he slid off his normal smart shirt and replaced it with a tightly fitting black long-sleeve t-shirt, he was reminded of his early days in the force. God, he'd hated being out on the beat. There really was nothing like the delights of central Newcastle on a Saturday night, especially after a game. But all that had been nothing compared to policing the pit riots during the miners' strike. He pulled on the surprisingly heavy overjacket and clipped it in place. They'd been reassured that helmets weren't going to be used, except by the armed response unit. Bloody uncomfortable things, and given his role in the operation, entirely pointless. The large changing room was filled with bodies, all going through the same transformation, the same mental shift from husbands, fathers, boyfriends to policemen. Carefully he hung his suit in the small locker, checking that his wallet and phone were carefully stashed. He was about to switch the latter off, when he noticed a text had arrived. Frowning, he opened it,

'Can we talk?'

He smiled, his face lighting up. She wanted to talk to him. Finally. He glanced around the busy room and then at his watch. They had ten minutes before the first briefing. For a moment he considered just ringing her back, he was so impatient to hear her voice, but his sensible side won over. It was going to be important, this conversation, and he wanted to be at home, on the sofa, preferably with a pint, and he wanted to talk to her for as long as she would let him.

'Bit tied up right now, but will call later, Rx'

Back in Cambridge, Laura was practically pacing her kitchen. It was stupid, she knew she was overreacting, but still she was annoyed. She looked again at her phone and re-read his reply. 'Later'. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Pausing briefly at the kitchen table to finish the last of her coffee, she walked out into the garden to do some dead-heading. Maybe Ellen was right? They'd spoken for nearly an hour the previous night, and although Laura hadn't shared half of what was on her mind, Ellen had quickly picked up the bare bones of the situation. She was in favour of her going back to Oxford and telling him how she felt, just like that. Apparently there would be something cathartic in just confessing all and moving on from there. She agreed that Robbie would probably be embarrassed and might feel awkward around her, but Ellen was adamant that in the long-term it would get easier for both of them. Laura was not so convinced. She had conveniently forgotten to mention the fact she had kissed him just before she left, and that they had not even talked about that. Going back and confessing her feelings would not be as simple as all that. It seemed unfair to burden him.

This morning though, she had resolved to talk to him about the job opportunity. She missed his sensible approach to life, and she was certain that Robbie would know what she should do. Only now it seemed that he was too busy to talk. She pulled another dead flower from the bush in front of her, perhaps with a little more force than necessary, and sighed loudly.

In Oxford, the teams were fully briefed and Lewis and Hathaway were walking out into the station car park to their assigned car. Too late, Lewis realised that he'd brought his phone with him. The rules on these kind of operations were clear, no phones. As he wondered whether to dash back to the changing room, it rang. Laura. Hathaway rolled his eyes and opened the car door, shutting it behind him.

"Hi Laura, everything ok?"

"I'm fine…can we talk now?"

She sounded tense, and he regretted what he had to reply,

"Not really pet, I'm in the middle of something at work, and I'm not sure how long this is going to take"

There was a pause, and her voice lightened,

"Oh…something big?"

He smiled into the phone, teasing her gently,

"Something like that?"

She played along,

"Sounds interesting…any juicy corpses?"

Innocent walked out of the station and shot him a look.

"Not yet… Listen Laura, I really can't talk to you about it, not yet. I'm not even supposed to be on my phone really"

"Fine"

He could picture the expression on her face, stern and disinterested.

"I'm sorry, pet, it's just you're on leave, and I can't…"

She interrupted him, cutting him off,

"I shouldn't have called, never mind. I'll let you get back to it"

"Laura…"

"It's fine, bye"

He looked again at the now-empty screen, and wondered if he should send a text. God, it had been so good to hear her voice. He was still trying to decide when Hathaway opened the car door and announced that they were about to move. Putting the phone in the glove compartment Lewis resolved to think about it this evening. Now really wasn't the time to try and sort it out. Once the operation was over, he'd be able to tell her a few things. She'd understand once he had a chance to explain.

The drove in silence, the radio jabbering away with information. The briefing had been clear, the armed teams were already in place and they were just there to provide some backup, crowd control and, if necessary, assist with ferrying any arrests back to the station. Robbie was exhausted, but, as usual had insisted on driving them. The sooner this was all over the better.

The cordon had already been set when they arrived and they parked up next to the convoy of police cars. It was nearly three thirty, and the first raids were scheduled for 3.45, timed to coincide with the arrival of three of the suspects home from their shifts at a local cleaning company. The briefing had clarified all the details, and Lewis and Hathaway were both scheduled to be accompanying Team 3, searching two of the flats in Alexander House. Lewis tried to concentrate on the task ahead, but his mind kept replaying his conversation with Laura. She'd sounded tense. Surely she hadn't been nervous calling him? He remembered the feeling of her lips against his own. Did she think he was going to interrogate her? He smiled to himself. Poor Laura.

Slowly, the minutes ticked by…

In stark contrast to the dramatic shouts and barging in so often seen on tv, the armed team moved silently to the front and rear exits. Two sergeants were equipped with a steel battering ram, and as the team all assumed their positions, they made short work of the door. There were several shouts from inside, and a loud crash, like a wardrobe falling.

The team moved in, the armed response first, the regulars behind. Lewis focused on the tall outline of Hathaway's back, leading the way through the door. It was gloomy inside and he blinked quickly to accustom his eyes to the shadowy hallway. He waited, obeying the plan.

The armed team were clearing each room, a kind of ritualised dance, punctuated by the occasional 'all clear'. They quickly cleared the ground floor and moved up to the upper levels. Heavy boots echoed above them. Hathaway followed his instructions to enter the large living room, and Lewis strode up the stairs. Radios were now chattering away, as the first and second teams entered their buildings. He could hear shots, though whether from the radio or the floors above, it wasn't clear. Loud thuds and crashes rang out above him, and another shot, this time unmistakably from one of the rooms above. He hesitated on the stairs, conscious of his task, suddenly aware of the danger of the situation, wondering if he should step back down. There was a shout above and sounds rushed towards him. All at once a heavy weight collided with his chest, and he was twisting, falling. Desperately he tried to grasp the bannisters, the carpet, the man whose body was propelling him downwards, never making purchase. His head hit the wall with a sickening thud, and then there was only blackness.