But Cooper was still doubtful. It was because he knew he shouldn’t be there at all. This wasn’t an official visit – there had been no action form issued for him to conduct another interview with Calvin Lawrence and Simon Bevington. But he needed to talk to them on his own. There were things he couldn’t concentrate on properly with Diane Fry and a bunch of uniformed officers crowding round the van.

Cooper could smell cigarette smoke on Owen’s jacket. He guessed he had been to see Cal and Stride quite recently, and his red fleece had absorbed the scent of their roll-ups. Owen walked up to the van and stood by the cab. He gestured to Cooper to stand out of sight, and knocked on the side door. It was an unusual knock, a series of short and long raps. After half a minute, the door slid partly open.

‘Cal,’ said Owen. ‘We come in peace.’

‘Bloody hell, it’s Red Rum. What’s up? Got no tourists to piss off?’

‘Yes, but pissing you off is more fun.’

Cal stuck his head out of the door and spotted Cooper. ‘What’s he want?’

‘A bit of your friendly conversation. No hassle. He’s all right, Cal.’

The youth stared at Cooper, then back at Owen. ‘You saying he’s all right? He’s a copper. Coppers is bastards, period.’

‘He’s all right.’

Cal nodded. ‘Give us the cans then, you mean sod.’

Owen winked at Cooper, and they clambered into the back of the VW. Cooper’s senses sprang instantly alive, awakened by the powerful mixture of scents and sensations contained in the van. Cal and Stride had been smoking roll-ups for months in the enclosed space, and their aroma had ingrained itself into the panels of the van and soaked into the blankets and cushions and sleeping bags that lay on the floor. There was the pungent smell of unwashed bodies and dirty clothes. And, overlying it, the odour of cooked food, including a lingering trace of the chicken curry they had eaten at least two days before. There was also a slightly worrying whiff of gas from the two-ring camping stove behind the driver’s seat.

Cooper hesitated when he saw Stride. He was sitting in the back corner, barely visible in the gloom.

‘Don’t worry about Stride,’ said Cal. ‘He’s just doing an auric egg.’

‘OK. That’s fine.’

Cooper eyed Stride cautiously. He didn’t seem to be doing much of anything, really, let alone laying an egg. He was very still, sitting upright, with his eyes closed and his hands in his lap. The expression on his face was concentrated, but calm. Cooper wondered if Stride genuinely hadn’t noticed there was anyone else in the van. It seemed unlikely. It must just be a bit of acting talent, mustn’t it?

‘It’s to protect himself against negative mind energies,’ said Cal.

‘Right.’