I nodded and put my hand on Selwyn’s shoulder. ‘How many Pathfinders are on the island just now?’ I asked him. ‘How many of us are away on missions?’

He thought for a moment. ‘I checked the schedule the other day, and as far as I know we’re all on the island.’ He frowned. ‘Except I also went looking for Haden and Casey after the fire, and I still haven’t been able to find either of them. If you happen to see them . . .’

‘I’ll be keeping an eye out for both of them,’ I promised, although I had no idea what might have happened to Haden. ‘I want you to get together everyone you can find and get them to meet us later this morning at the Hotel du Mauna Loa. It’s about eight right now, so let’s say midday at the latest. Will you do that? We have something to tell you all, but I’d rather not do it with them around,’ I added, casting a significant glance in the direction of the Patriots.

Selwyn flicked his eyes towards the agents, then back at me. ‘Sure,’ he said carefully, looking as if he had a million questions. ‘I’ll do that.’

Selwyn walked back over to join the others. Winifred made to follow him, then paused, fixing me with a steady eye. ‘Whatever’s going on,’ she said, ‘I hope for your sakes you know what you’re doing.’

So do I, I thought, as she turned and walked away.

The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that Casey had tried not only to kill Wallace, but also to make Wallace’s death appear to be an accident. No one would have been surprised by someone like Wallace accidentally setting themselves on fire, especially given the depth of his alcoholism.

It struck me that none of this would ever have happened if I hadn’t stumbled across that coin in Wallace’s drawer. Casey, of course, had understood the significance of that broken piece of metal just as well as I now did, given all that I had learned about him from my predecessor’s carefully concealed evidence. Everything since then had been like a line of dominoes toppling over. A series of unavoidable events, ultimately forcing Casey to make what struck me as a sudden, desperate gambit – before we had a chance to confront Wallace and wrest the truth from him.

‘I hate to say it,’ said Rozalia, a brittle edge to her voice, ‘even though I’m going to choke the life out of the murderous son of a bitch the moment I find him, there’s a part of me wonders if what Casey’s planning for the Authority is such a bad idea.’

At first I thought I had misheard her. ‘What are you talking about?’