But Hawkins was already moving, crossing the smaller, secondary road between them and the gardens, aligning herself so she could see through the gates, her view partially blocked by hedges and tree trunks, the gravel pathway dog-legging a few yards inside. Through the shifting crowds, she saw the stone horseman on his plinth, picked up the brass band’s marching rhythms, floating above the traffic’s baseline hum.

Chris drew alongside as she stopped outside the park entrance, studying faces one by one as they passed, searching for the man she’d seen through White’s office window.

Nothing.

‘Bollocks,’ she breathed, realizing he must have seen them leave the upstairs room, pre-empted their tactics. But they’d reached street level fast; he wouldn’t have had time to go far.

She held her position, interrogating the furthest reaches of her view, chasing a distant glimpse of dark coat and trousers.

Still no sign of rapid movement.

She paused. If she’d been watching the first floor, seen its occupants disappear back into the room, realized she was being pursued, where would she go?

Moving nearer the building, even to pass it, was unlikely, because that increased the chances of being seen or caught. Away from the house, south or east along the pavements surrounding the park, was a better option, but line of sight dictated you’d be visible for longer, therefore vulnerable.

Which made retreating directly away from the hunt, into the park itself, the obvious choice.

‘Come on.’ Hawkins moved, entering the gates at a jog, hearing Chris follow.

Passers-by looked up as they reached the first intersection, the point where several pathways converged between the bushes, providing the option for them to separate.

‘Go that way.’ Hawkins pointed along the park’s northern edge. ‘And stay alert. I think he’s gone to ground in here.’

Chris nodded and moved away as Hawkins turned south, attention moving from the park’s inhabitants to its potential hiding places. There weren’t many, only intermittent blocks of foliage or large tree trunks offering sufficient cover for an adult who wished to remain unseen.

Questions nagged at her.

The man’s behaviour, for a start. At first, he’d been so intimidating, so blatant; not even attempting to disguise the fact he was watching them. But then, as soon as he sensed their approach, he’d bolted. It just didn’t make sense.

Then there was the matter of why he was there in the first place. Had he been watching the building?

White?

Or her and Chris?

It was unlikely he’d followed her and Chris, especially as White had seen him before, not far from here. So who was the watcher?

And why would he run?

She pictured his clothing, having picked up no outward signs of allegiance to anything except perhaps the Army and Navy Stores. His appearance had given no clues to any kind of agenda, spiritual or otherwise. But then neither had White’s.