Carstairs nodded. “I know what you mean. I think we’ve all felt that momentary doubt. Including Jackie. I think there have been moments when she’s wondered if she suffered some kind of brainstorm. The only one who’s never doubted her innocence is Claire. She really has kept the faith.”

Pity she couldn’t have managed faithful as well, thought Lindsay sourly. But she kept her thoughts to herself and got to her feet. “Right,” she said. “I’m off in pursuit of the missing thumb. I can’t promise that I’ll be able to get to the bottom of this, you do realize that? The trail I’m trying to pick up is very stale. Getting people to remember what happened four months ago is a tall order. Especially if one of them has something to hide.”

“I appreciate that,” Carstairs said, showing her to the door. “But we owe it to Jackie to try, don’t we?”

“I’ll be in touch if I need anything,” she said on her way out.

Lindsay kept her word to the lawyer sooner than she expected. For when she returned to Sophie’s flat, she found two men waiting for her.

“Miss Gordon?” Inspector Ainslie of the Special Branch asked as he and his colleague fell into step beside her. “We’d like you to accompany us to the station. We’ve got one or two questions for you about Miss Campbell’s burglary.”

7

“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t know anything about it!” Lindsay protested. She was sick of repeating herself. Ainslie ignored her denial and continued to put the same question, like a record with the needle stuck in the groove.

“What have you done with the draft report?” he asked her yet again.

Lindsay was bemused. When the two policemen had stopped her in the street, she had demanded to know what they wanted and why they thought she could help them. Ainslie had refused to answer any of her questions and had brought her to Maryhill Police Station, where she had been hustled into a small interview room, furnished with a table and two chairs. The room was hot and stuffy, and her head had begun to throb. It was all frighteningly reminiscent of another interview room she’d been interrogated in once before. The memory made Lindsay’s palms sweat and the blood pound in her ears.

Neither police officer had attempted to explain what was going on. Ainslie had simply repeated his question over and over again. She had asked to call her lawyer, but her request had been ignored as completely as if she had never spoken. An hour had passed in this inconclusive but, for Lindsay, deeply unsettling pattern. Then, without warning, Ainslie got abruptly to his feet and walked out, slamming the door behind him. His junior sidekick followed him moments later, after fixing Lindsay with a long, hard stare.