I took my key and my suitcase and went up to the second floor. The rooms at the hotel had been given various designations – Platinum, Silver, Premium and so on. I noticed from the card that had been given to me with the key that mine was simply a Guest Room. It was small, with two single beds, two chairs, two pictures of Braye and, disappointingly, a view over the car park. But it was comfortable enough and I would only be here for two nights.

I unpacked and took out my laptop but I was too tired to work. It had been a long day and I’d had to get up early to meet Hawthorne at Waterloo. I had a book to read but in the end I dozed off, stretched out on the bed.

I was woken by a loud banging on the door. As I opened my eyes and stumbled to my feet, slightly ashamed to be found asleep in the middle of the afternoon, I realised that it was not actually my door but the one belonging to the neighbouring room. It opened and closed again.

Almost at once, an argument began on the other side of the wall. Some of the words were indistinct, but as the two people raised their voices I was able to hear whole sentences.

‘Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here?’

‘I’m sorry, Marc. I didn’t know.’

‘You accepted the invitation.’

‘I asked you! You said it was all right!’

It was Marc Bellamy and his assistant, Kathryn Harris. He was the one who had knocked on the door so the room must be hers. His voice grew louder and more violent.

‘I can’t bloody stay here!’

‘I’m sorry . . .’ She sounded on the edge of tears.

‘You’ve really screwed up.’

I heard the sound of an impact. He had either kicked something or thrown something at her and it was enough to get me to open my door, half afraid for her safety.

I was just in time to see Marc Bellamy go storming past. He didn’t notice me. His fists were clenched. He was staring straight ahead.

He had murder in his eyes.

4

The Ace of Spades

I’m afraid I missed George Elkin and the occupation of Alderney. I should have gone to his talk, but I’d managed to sleep for two hours and I spent the rest of the afternoon catching up with my emails, texts, Twitter feed and WhatsApps – my tenuous links with the outside world. The welcome drinks began at half past six and that was when I came down. I asked for Hawthorne at reception but he hadn’t got back from his walk.