Chalmers wobbled her way through the crowd to the table with a chipped brown tray laden with drinks. ‘Right: one latte, one sparkling water. . .’ She doled them out to Guthrie and Dr Graham. ‘One Jack and Coke for Sophie, one Stella. . .’ That went down in front of Logan. ‘One white wine with a Grouse chaser. . .’ Steel. ‘And two Guinness.’

She tucked the tray under the table for next time. ‘Cheers, everyone.’

Steel wrapped herself around a mouthful of wine. Smacked her lips. ‘Guthrie, your turn: Tony Blair, Ed Miliband, and Nick Clegg.’

Chalmers shuffled her chair closer to Logan’s. ‘Before I forget. . .’ She dug about in her handbag, coming out with a white carrier-bag with a big ‘W’ on it. ‘Got you something.’

Ah. Logan stared at it. Well, this was awkward. ‘You don’t have to. . . It’s. . . I’m certainly flattered, but I’m seeing someone and—’

‘Oh God no, no.’ She held up her hand and shrank back in her seat, eyes wide. ‘I’m not. . . It isn’t. . . I just thought it would help with the investigation.’ She handed it to him. ‘Open it.’

He did. There was a paperback inside, thick as a house brick. Witchfire picked out in shiny gold above a ‘SIGNED BY THE AUTHOR’ sticker, another boasting ‘SOON TO BE A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE!’ and one more with ‘2 FOR £10!’. The actual book cover was almost invisible. ‘I see. . .’

Chalmers took a mouthful out of her Guinness, leaving herself with a white foam moustache. ‘Tenet Two: “Know thine enemy, for knowledge is power and power is victory.” If Agnes Garfield is really that obsessed with the book, maybe we can use it to figure out where she is, or what she’s going to do next? ’

Might not be a bad idea at that.

Laughter erupted through the group, Steel pounding on the tabletop, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘You’re a sick, sick puppy, Guthrie! A cucumber!’

Guthrie shrugged. ‘It’s not like I’d eat it afterwards.’

Logan slipped the book into his pocket. ‘Thanks.’

‘No problems, Guv.’

The glass of Stella was cold, beads of condensation rolling down the side. He raised it to his lips, then swore. His phone was having a fit in his pocket, vibrating and blaring out ‘If I Only Had a Brain.’

Sodding Rennie. . .

‘What do you want? ’

Rennie’s voice was barely audible in the crowded pub. ‘—ng, don’t ha— . . . —er and . . . it? ’

Logan stuck a finger in his other ear. ‘What? ’

‘I sai— . . . entire pl— . . . —overed in blood! It— . . . —ody.’

He stood. ‘Calm down and try again.’

Rennie did, but it wasn’t any better.

Steel frowned up from her whisky. ‘What’s munching on your pants? ’

‘Rennie. Says there’s a body, blood everywhere.’ Logan grabbed his jacket off the chair and pushed through the crowd to the exit.