Bloom thought about the call she’d made to Assistant Chief Constable Steve Barker from the train. It had been a gamble to suggest using Stuart’s phone as a listening device. She couldn’t be sure that Stuart would even be there, but it had been the only card she’d had to play. She knew there was a good chance her own phone would be taken away once she revealed who Sarah really was. And so Barker agreed that his team would access Stuart’s phone. And if at any point they verified that Bloom, Stuart and Seraphine were together, they’d instruct Libby to send a single text message saying, ‘Your son is called Harry.’ Bloom would know that anything from that point on would be recorded.

If Stuart hadn’t checked his text message, this situation could have ended very differently. Steve Barker had had his doubts about Bloom’s plan, but they needed to catch Seraphine revealing everything. She’d have kept her distance from the crimes committed by the players. They had to make her admit to being the orchestrator. Not that any of that mattered now.

‘What was in the syringe?’ Bloom asked.

Seraphine swayed, but said nothing.

‘You need to tell me, Seraphine. The doctors will need to know.’

A male voice outside the room announced the presence of armed police.

‘No one’s armed!’ shouted Jameson.

‘And we need an ambulance!’ called Bloom.

The door opened and two firearms officers entered with their weapons raised. They scanned the room, saw Stuart on his hands and knees beside Jameson, and Seraphine spaced out in the chair opposite Bloom. They lowered their weapons and radioed for an ambulance.

Bloom moved to crouch in front of Seraphine. She wanted her alive. She wanted more information on the group Seraphine had founded. They needed to know what was coming next. ‘What was in the syringe, Seraphine?’

Seraphine’s eyes closed and opened slowly. Then, just before she passed out, she said, ‘It doesn’t matter.’

Bloom and Jameson stood side by side, watching the paramedics attach Seraphine to the monitors in the back of the ambulance.

‘Why didn’t you warn me?’ Jameson said, as the ambulance pulled away.

‘You wouldn’t have believed me. If I’d texted or called to say that Sarah was really Seraphine, you’d have said I was talking rubbish – or, worse still, you’d have told Sarah. I couldn’t risk that.’

‘I could have died.’

‘I wouldn’t have let that happen.’

‘You came bloody close.’

‘Marcus?’ She placed a hand on his shoulder, taking care not to jar his injured arm. ‘I had no choice. I’m sorry. It was your idea though, really. The Romanova play. Make them think they’re winning in order to interrogate them.’