‘So, everything we do from now on, everything, we bring it back to that. Yes, of course there’s all the other business of policing, the usual major and minor crime, all the accidents and incidents we continue to have to deal with every day, but I want this at the front of everybody’s mind. We’re not on our own here – every other force is grappling with it and there is full cooperation between us, no point-scoring, no rivalry, no borders, we share information, we share names and addresses, we share whatever we have with whoever needs it. County lines spread out from the big cities to reach us and the forces like us, and we have to stamp this out and we will stamp it out. Whatever it takes, and between us all. We are not going to let them win.’

‘Didn’t have the Chief down for a rallying cry before battle sort of guy, did you?’ Fern Monroe was walking out of the conference room beside Serrailler.

‘Not his usual style,’ someone else said.

Simon manoeuvred himself through the press of bodies, pleading urgency to reply to a call, conscious that DC Monroe was blocked in behind him. He didn’t know how to deal with her, thought avoidance and escape were his best MO.

He was halfway down the street to the Cypriot cafe when his phone buzzed.

‘Chief?’

‘Where are you?’

‘On my way back in?’

‘Sorry, Simon. I’m in your office.’

The stairs and corridors had cleared, everyone had gone back at work, and Fern Monroe was nowhere to be seen.

‘Chief.’

‘Didn’t mean to deprive you of the best coffee in Lafferton but some new stuff has come in about Professor Shenfield. Can I sit here? – I can prop my leg up.’

‘Of course. What’s going on?’

‘Two pathologists have now gone over his PM on Liam Payne – your friend Adam Iliffe and a Dr Kendra Murray from Edinburgh as the outsider. In a nutshell, Shenfield made a few errors – not grave, just oversights, and certainly nothing criminal, but apparently ones a very junior pathologist might have made.’

‘Rookie errors.’