‘This morning at around ten fifteen, you texted Libby Goodman from your new phone and asked her what she’d called your child,’ Bloom said to Stuart.

‘So?’

Jameson squeezed his legs together from the thigh to the ankle. His feet and hands had to move together.

Seraphine spoke up. ‘So you revealed your new number to your ex and your ex gave it to Augusta, who did what with it, I wonder?’

Bloom looked at Seraphine and smiled.

Jameson took his cue. Time was up. Whatever Augusta had done, Seraphine wasn’t going to like it. He swung his whole body towards Seraphine, his feet and hands rotating exactly as planned to bring his right hand up above his left to where Seraphine still held the syringe. He grabbed it, feeling the smooth plastic fit satisfyingly into his palm. And then, as Seraphine protested and tried to seize it back, he stabbed the needle deep into her forearm and plunged its entire contents into her. ‘Better in you than me,’ he said. Only that morning he’d woken up hoping to spend the rest of his life with this woman.

‘That all depends on your point of view.’ Seraphine pulled her arm away and removed the syringe that hung limply from it.

A second later, Jameson saw Beardsley’s fist coming. He didn’t have time to move his head before his second heavy thud against the concrete.

‘Leave him,’ Seraphine said. ‘There’s not enough time. How long do we have, Augusta?’ Her voice was as calm as ever and Jameson realized how badly he had read her. He’d thought her so composed and brave. But she was simply detached.

‘I couldn’t say for sure, but I expect we’re talking minutes.’

‘Stuart, untie Marcus. The rest of you go,’ said Seraphine.

From his position on the floor, Jameson watched Beardsley, Denise and the old chap who hadn’t spoken open the large door and leave.

Stuart knelt on one knee and deftly undid the ropes around Jameson’s ankles and wrists. ‘What’s going on?’ he said as he stood and pulled the rope away from Jameson.

‘You took our phones today so they couldn’t be tracked,’ said Bloom to Stuart.

Stuart nodded, understanding. ‘But you had my phone number.’ He stood over Bloom as he spoke. He was a good six foot. Jameson rose to his feet as fast as he could. He didn’t fancy Bloom’s odds if this psycho took a swipe.

Bloom continued to sit in her velvet chair, facing Seraphine. ‘And I’m sure you’re aware of how clever today’s surveillance systems are. Only last year a number of police forces purchased the technology needed to listen in to conversations via someone’s phone microphone. It’s intended for counter-terrorism activities, but people do like to play with a new toy.’

Stuart looked at Seraphine. ‘So they’ve heard every word you’ve said?’