“Why?” Helen cut in, unable to restrain her natural exuberant curiosity. “What were they about, for God’s sake?”

“I can’t say,” Rosalind said. “Official Secrets Act.”

“I know all about that,” said Lindsay grimly. “But look, you can trust us, Rosalind. We’re not about to tell anyone. And the police are going to have to know, aren’t they?”

Rosalind looked worried. “Yes, they are.” She thought for a moment, then made her decision. “It mustn’t go any farther, and I really mean that, both of you.”

“You have my word,” said Lindsay.

“I won’t tell a soul,” Helen said. “Though God knows it’ll kill me, keeping my mouth shut.” She pulled a face.

Rosalind gave a faint smile. “I know you can keep quiet when you have to, Helen. The report was about the privatization of prisons. They’ve been muttering about it for a while, but just like the poll tax, they’ve decided to try it out in Scotland first. You know the Tory theory—dump it on the Scots, that way if it doesn’t work, we’ve not lost anything because the bloody Scots always vote Labour anyway.”

“Jesus,” Helen breathed softly. “That’s dynamite, Ros. What exactly are they planning?”

“I really don’t want to go into details,” Rosalind said. “But they’re planning all sorts of shit like armed guards and high security isolation units for violent offenders. It’ll mean the end of any kind of rehabilitation programs for long-stay prisoners, among other things.”

Lindsay sighed. “I can see why you’re so worried. And if there were rumors around that you were working on it, there would be plenty of people who’d be happy to get their hands on the proposals. Any security firm who were thinking of bidding for the contract, for starters.”

“But I’ve already told you, no one could have known that this would be the one afternoon when the papers would be here,” Rosalind protested. She looked around the room distractedly, as if the chaos would provide her with some clue.

“Yes, that is a problem,” Lindsay admitted. “But I don’t quite understand why you wanted my advice. I mean, the CID and the Special Branch will be running around like blue-arsed flies till they get their hands on your precious briefcase.”

“That wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about. I know that you can’t help me with the official stuff. I’m just going to have to pray that the police find my papers quickly. Then the relief might just stop the Minister from killing me. What I’m worried about is more personal.”

Lindsay lit a cigarette and waited. After a few moments, Rosalind disengaged herself from Helen’s hug, took a deep breath, and said, “Did you ever meet my brother Harry?”