It took me a long while to get ready after he left. I crawled back through to the toilet and crouched, shivering, over the bowl, feeling as if the flesh was about to slough off my bones. But nothing else came up, so I slowly peeled off my clothes and left them lying on the tiles before dragging myself inside the shower. It ran on a battery-powered pump that took a while to get going, and the water was always freezing cold for the first minute or so. I gasped as the icy stream hit me, then leaned my head back against the tiles once it heated up.

All I really wanted to do was crawl back into bed and stay there, but instead I dried myself off and found some fresh clothes before setting back out again.

‘Dear God in Heaven,’ said Randall Pimms when I finally walked into the bar, just before eight. ‘It lives.’

I ignored him and grabbed hold of a stool, to keep myself upright as much as anything else. There was a faint singing in my ears, overlaying the grind and thud of blood flowing like tar through my veins.

‘Get you anything?’ asked Selwyn, one hand on my shoulder.

‘Coffee,’ I grunted.

‘Good idea,’ he replied, peering at my bloodshot eyes. ‘Wait right there.’

I watched him ask Tony behind the bar for the coffee, then looked to see who else was there. Most, if not all, of the Pathfinders were present. Chloe, unsurprisingly, was not. The majority were outside on the patio, standing or sitting around the pool, a few empty bottles bobbing and floating in the murky water.

‘Here.’ Selwyn pushed a cup of hot black liquid into my hands. ‘Strong as I could make it.’

I sipped at the coffee, feeling it burn its way down my throat. I was about to thank Selwyn when Kip Mayer walked in and the others started to trickle back inside from the patio.

‘Mr Bramnik thought it best if you heard it from us first,’ said Mayer, once everyone had found somewhere to stand or sit facing him. ‘It looks as if the Patriots are going to be running their own, parallel investigation into the circumstances surrounding Nadia Mirkowsky’s death. Langward Greenbrooke will be in charge of that investigation.’

The sounds of groans filled the air.

‘This is bullshit,’ said Casey, leaning against a pillar. ‘They’re taking advantage of a fucking tragedy for their own damn reasons.’

A chorus of voices rose in assent. I listened quietly, still nursing my coffee.

‘Wait.’ Mayer raised his hands over the tumult. ‘All right. Okay, shut up.’

The noise finally abated, and Mayer continued. ‘Now listen. Whether you like it or not, this is going to happen. It’s going to mean some changes around here. There’s also talk of a curfew—’