‘Tariq, I know you’re Turkish. Chill out, don’t be so defensive. That’s not what I’m saying. What I mean is you see everything that goes on around here, you said it yourself, and according to my understanding, there’s a substantial Gorani community in this area. Haringey, specifically.’

The last bit was a punt, but what Mansfield had said had struck a chord. Given what a small community it was, how many Goranis could there be living in London? If Haringey was known as a stronghold for immigrants from the area, considering its proximity to Hampstead Heath, it was as good a place as any to start.

‘The thing is, I know you have … connections … and this girl, I think she was on the game.’

‘How the hell can you know that?’

‘I don’t. It’s just conjecture at this stage. But come on, she was with a man in a bush at 6a.m., a man who physically attacked her …’

‘What the fuck, Isobel, you said she was talking to the man in her own language. That means she probably knew him. For all you know it could have been her brother. I mean, fucking hell, bruv, talk about jumping to conclusions. Besides, what did you actually see?’

‘Oh my God, Tariq, I told you, I saw her being attacked. And since then, I’m being stalked by the man who did it. Does that sound like nothing?’ I tear at my hair with my hands. ‘I mean, Jesus Christ, will any of you actually listen to what I’m saying …’

‘All right!’ Tariq holds up his hands at me. ‘Fine, I believe you that something happened. Something fucked up. I believe you on that, alright?’

‘That’s all I’m asking for,’ I reply, my voice strained.

We are both quiet for a moment and then I say, ‘She was mixed up in something and all I need to know from you is where to look for a Kosovan girl from the Gorani region, who might have been brought here …’

Tariq’s features tense again, his voice hardening. ‘Isobel. Listen, yeah? You are a friend, and as a friend I will give you the benefit of the doubt, but truly I am not pleased by your suggestion. What you are talking about, this people trafficking, prostitution, I … Whatever it is you are insinuating …’ He watches my face for a reaction, ‘This is not my territory.’

‘Tariq, I know that and I’m not suggesting anything of the sort,’ I say, shaking my head calmly, though as I say it I wonder not for the first time how wide Tariq’s net is cast. The likelihood that he is involved in nothing more than supplying weed to middle-class fuck-ups is slim, but it suits me better not to think too deeply into what else might be motivating, and funding, the constant change of premises, the henchmen, the endless bolts on the doors.