‘Scout, thank you for looking after Dasher,’ Whitestone said. ‘I’ve come to take him home, if that’s OK with you.’

Scout thought about it, weighing it all up.

‘It’s really hard to become a guide dog,’ she said, looking at me for confirmation.

‘That’s right, Scout,’ I said. ‘Guide dogs have to be aware of their environment but not overwhelmed by it. They have to be sensitive without being timid. They have to be confident without being too wild. It takes a lot of people to train a guide dog.’

Whitestone nodded, attempting to smile.

Then she addressed Scout.

‘Justin – my son, Scout, who you met when you came to our house – he had some problems adjusting to his new life.’

‘He’s blind,’ Scout said.

‘That’s right. So for all sorts of reasons we couldn’t take Dasher at first. But now we can. I hope you understand.’

‘Dasher’s going to live with you and Justin now?’

‘If that’s all right with you, Scout.’

‘I better draw a picture of Dasher,’ Scout said. ‘To keep when he’s gone.’

‘I’m sorry, Scout,’ Whitestone said. ‘I know you’ll be sad to see Dasher go.’

Scout nodded briefly, dry-eyed but subdued, and went off to her room to get started with her drawing.

‘What’s wrong with your arm?’ Whitestone said.

After that night at the Hopewell Centre I had developed the habit of flexing my left arm. The elbow pulsated and throbbed as if it was a living thing, filled to bursting with blood. Moving it seemed to ease the pain. I did it without thinking about it.

‘Just a knock.’

‘What exactly happened in that penthouse before we arrived, Max?’

‘You were late.’

‘The lifts were out. The CCTV was out. We had to walk up fifty floors. Who was there before we arrived? Some crew were there before us. Edie says she didn’t know them.’

‘Madam Theresa must have got on the wrong side of the wrong people.’

‘It looks that way. CSI found a severed hand up in one of the rooms. They’ve run the fingerprints of the hand through IDENT1 but it doesn’t ring any bells. Ten million fingerprints on IDENT1 but not this character. So you didn’t clock who the crew were?’

‘Whoever they were – God bless them. They saved my life.’

‘You’re still angry,’ Whitestone said.

‘What makes you think that?’

‘You’re angry about Billy. You’re angry about the dog.’

‘Dasher.’

‘Dasher. And you’re angry about the Hopewell Centre.’

I could feel my left elbow throbbing with too much blood.

‘And you’re angry about Edie being undercover in there,’ Whitestone said. ‘You think I’ve taken too many chances.’

‘You’re meant to be on our side.’