Charles spoke slowly, as a cover for thinking quickly. The trouble was, there wasn’t much to think. The chief of MI6 had no executive authority outside MI6 itself, could not intervene in MI5 investigations and had no influence over or knowledge of police operations. Like any other British subject, he would be committing an offence himself if he helped a fugitive evade justice, even if he believed the fugitive innocent. ‘Tell me exactly what Akela said they said. Did they say they want to arrest you or just question you?’

‘I don’t know. She just said they’re looking for me.’

Charles knew from his own experience that police preferred to arrest if they could, rather than simply interview. Arrest – permissible if serious crime were suspected – meant they could search and interview under caution at times and places of their choosing, could record everything and use anything said as evidence. Arrest could be more convenient than interview, whether or not it was followed by a charge. ‘The best thing,’ he said, speaking with deliberation, ‘for you and for Akela is to go home and hand yourself in. You’ve done nothing illegal, you’ve got nothing to worry about, they’ve not a shred of evidence against you and they can easily check with the street trader that the knives were a cheap job lot. If you go on the run they’ll think you’ve something to hide and when eventually they find you – which they will – you’ll have a much harder time convincing them of your innocence. And you’ll make life more difficult for Akela, too. Not to mention your family. So long as you’re missing they may want to search your mother’s house, too.’

Sarah put her hand to her mouth. ‘They wouldn’t really want to bring Deborah into it, would they?’

‘They’d question anyone thought to be close to Daniel.’

‘What about you?’ asked Daniel. ‘Would they question you if they knew you’d seen me?’

‘Quite likely, once they discovered our connection.’

‘What would you tell them?’

Charles looked into Daniel’s eyes. ‘I’d tell them you’d been here, that I’d advised you to hand yourself in, that you had nothing to worry about because they were barking up the wrong tree and there was a perfectly innocent explanation for the knives.’

‘Assuming that’s all they’re worried about.’

‘Is there anything else they should be worrying about?’

Daniel looked down at his boots. The steel toecaps showed through the scuffing. ‘I’m involved with a Muslim charity that takes money and stuff out to Syria and places. They might suspect it raises funds for terrorists.’

‘Does it?’

Daniel looked up. ‘No.’

‘Which charity?’

‘I’d rather not say, if you don’t mind. It’s legal, it’s registered with the Charity Commission and all that.’

‘What do you do for them?’