‘It’s the only thing that makes sense,’ I said. ‘Some of them never made it here alive and some of them were put to work in the Hopewell Centre. But they all came to do the same job.’ Edie’s grandmother had woken at the sound of our voices. ‘I’m sorry, Lil,’ I told her. ‘I truly am.’

‘That’s all right, love,’ Lil said, grinning happily, not a care in the world.

Edie was shaking her head.

‘Max – please. Stop for a minute and think this through. You could be wrong.’

‘But I’m not,’ I said. ‘Call it in, Edie.’

She made no attempt to reach for her phone. We stared at each other for a long hard moment and then I turned away. And as I left the room, I saw her reach for her grandmother’s hand.

I walked out to the car park. Doherty saw me coming and dropped his cigarette. I held out my hand. The chauffeur stared at it as if uncertain what to do. I kept my hand there. He slowly took it. We shook.

And then I squeezed his hand as hard as I could.

I saw the look of disbelief on his face turn to shock and finally, as I increased the pressure, excruciating pain, the kind of pain that doubles you up.

Cursing, Doherty abruptly pulled his hand away, and bounced off the side of his master’s car. His leather-soled shoes skidded and slipped on the icy ground as he broke into a run, his eyes streaming with tears.

It had been just shy of two months since the Champagne Room was torched.

And burns take a long time to heal.

Barry Warboys was smoking a cigar at his desk when I walked into his office.

‘What’s the life expectancy in this country these days?’ I said.

His PA appeared in the doorway behind me.

‘Mr Warboys? This gentleman just barged—’

‘It’s all right,’ he said, dismissing her. He considered my question. ‘Eighty years for men,’ he said. ‘Eighty-two for women. And rising all the time, of course.’

‘Then this is the best business to be in,’ I said. ‘Reasonably priced residential care for the elderly. All these people who need looking after.’

‘It’s an expanding market.’

‘But it must be hard to get nurses from affluent countries to look after old people. I imagine it’s a hard, messy, thankless job for not much money. To wash them, to clean up after them, to care about them.’

He was watching me carefully.

‘Frankly, it’s hard to get their own children to care about them,’ he said.

‘But your nurses care.’

‘Yes, they do care.’

‘Is that why they’re all illegals?’

He laughed like a man whose conscience was clear.