To Julianne, the lawyer seemed to be saying exactly what anyone watching and recording them would’ve expected him to say. Role playing, and he was good at it. Shah replied with an inaudible shrug, just as Palmer returned with a colleague.

‘Detective Constable Bill Dennis,’ the new man said, introducing himself. ‘My apologies, folks. I meant to be here earlier, but I got caught up in traffic getting back from the navy base. Went out to see your mate, Ross. He’s still with us, but a bit banged up.’

Jules had to exert a tremendous effort of will to keep herself quiet. Downing seemed to understand her frustration. She was quite desperate for news of the Rhino and found herself feeling guilty that she hadn’t done more to find out how he was. If he had never met her, he wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed right now.

‘How badly was Mr Ross injured, Detective Constable?’ the lawyer asked affably. ‘He’s a friend of my client, and we’ve had no word. If possible, I’m sure Mr Shah would like to visit him. But we don’t even know where he is being treated.’

One wouldn’t have known from the agreeable tone of Piers Downing’s voice that he had locked horns so seriously with Dennis’s partner just a few minutes ago. Jules couldn’t help thinking that if her father had had this chap in his corner when it all went pear-shaped, he might not have retired to the billiards room with his service revolver.

Both cops sat down, Palmer pushing back from the table a fraction, while Dennis pulled up a chair and opened a manila folder, from which he began to extract details.

‘Mr Ross has second-degree burns to thirty per cent of his body. A broken shoulder blade. Four broken ribs. And possible internal injuries. Sorry, I don’t have details on that yet. They’re still operating. He’s being treated on the American ship USS Bataan. When they have him stable they’ll transfer him to Royal Darwin. No word on when that might be, though.’