‘Dream on.’ Driscoll levered himself up from the table. ‘Now if you don’t mind, there’s proper policing some of us need to be doing, so …’ He gestured towards the door.

‘We can find our own way,’ Clarke told him.

She led Esson back down the corridor, pressing the button to unlock the door. Three uniformed officers filled the reception area, one slightly older than the other two, none of them sporting welcoming looks on their faces. They didn’t say anything and didn’t clear a space, meaning Clarke and Esson had to squeeze past. One of them gave a long, loud sniff, as if trying to pick up a scent.

‘You’d have to be desperate,’ Clarke heard one mutter to another.

‘I’d do you before I’d do them,’ a second voice replied in the same stage whisper.

For a moment, she considered confronting them and taking badge numbers. But she knew they would consider that a win. Instead, as she hauled open the door to the outside world, she half turned towards Esson.

‘I can never remember,’ she said, voice raised loud enough to carry, ‘if they’re called Tynie because of their brains or their dicks.’

‘One doesn’t necessarily rule out the other,’ Esson replied, closing the door after her.

Two patrol cars were arriving, officers piling out. ‘I see we’re too late for the strippers,’ one of the uniforms said.

‘Thank Christ,’ his colleague replied.

There were six of them, all male, all in their twenties or early thirties. They knew damned well who Clarke and Esson were, doubtless alerted by the officer at the desk. Which also meant they knew why they were there.

‘Any of you particularly close to Francis Haggard?’ Clarke asked.

‘Give me a kiss and I’ll tell you.’

Amidst the laughter, Clarke caught the words ‘Nice one, Chris.’ She fixed the man with a look. ‘We’ll have a proper chat later, Chris, yes? See how chirpy you are away from your carers.’

The laughter started up again, and someone thumped the officer called Chris on the back. They began to file into the station, giving last appraising looks as they went.

‘What century is this?’ Esson muttered, following Clarke to the Astra.

‘They’ll be dangerous if they ever learn to make fire,’ Clarke agreed.

Driscoll summoned them all to the locker room. They arrived armed with fizzy drinks cans and chocolate bars.

‘What did they want?’ he was asked almost immediately.