Patrix’s expression twisted with scorn into something ugly and chilling. ‘I can’t believe that maggot is our Prime Minister. I never thought I’d live to see the day that this great country of ours elected a blanker as its leader. Well, I and a number of my friends in high places will be working tirelessly to make sure his every move is blocked and his every proposal is dismissed while he’s PM. This will be the one and only term he gets to serve. And, when his five years are up, I will make it my personal business to make sure he can’t even get elected rat-catcher of East Fluffyfuck.’

What. A. Dick.

‘He may surprise you and be good at his job,’ I ventured.

‘Oh please. He’s a blanker. That’s all I know or need to know.’

Wow! What must it be like to constantly see the world through the prism of bigotry? His world view was so blinkered, so … petty. Patrix had lived with it for so long that he couldn’t even see how much his hatred had distorted and corrupted his vision. Every person who didn’t look and think like him was the enemy. It was so pathetic. So … tiny. And the saddest thing of all was that it was self-inflicted.

‘Well, thank you, Mr Ellerman,’ I said. ‘It’s been … illuminating.’

After a conversation with this guy, all I wanted to do was go have a shower and scrub his poisonous words right off me. Patrix Ellerman was totally beneath contempt.

‘Hold on, Mrs Ealing. You own Specimens Restaurant, don’t you?’

‘I do.’

‘I don’t suppose I could persuade you to offer me a short-term loan?’ said Patrix. ‘I would, of course, pay it back with interest.’

Was he frickin’ kidding me?! It took all my inner reserves not to burst out laughing. As it was, I could feel my lips quivering!

‘No, Mr Ellerman. I have no interest whatsoever in lending you money.’

As if.

‘We’re both Crosses. Where’s your sympathy for what Jeavons did to me?’ asked Patrix, eyes narrowed. The marrow-deep sense of entitlement was strong with this one.

‘Mr Ellerman, if you’re looking for sympathy, you’ll find it between symbolic and syphilis in the dictionary. Goodbye.’

I disconnected our call.

Well, there it was. The last but one house at the end of Mbizi Street, East Gurendah Harbour. I’d been watching it for over an hour. In that time, a bearded man had come out of the building and driven off in a black, sporty vehicle whose licence plate I’d already photographed. It’d be a bit much to hope that Libby and Troy had been left alone. That would make my job too easy.