Beyond the hog-roasts and barbecues, dozens more marquees had been erected to act as shade for the horses. Several animals were already there, practising their jumps and getting used to the various noises they’d experience over the coming days: car horns, tannoy announcements, children screaming inside the fenced-off playground, and four local bands all revelling in their half hour of fame, twice a day, for four days.

In the main arena, Charlotte and Judas were cantering across the sawdust floor, kicking up a fine yellow spray as they went. To Jack, they looked wonderful. Judas was impressively tall and broad, with a powerful musculature that rippled beneath his immaculately groomed coat. For Charlotte to be in control of such a beast was deeply impressive, knowing that he’d come to trust her and surrender his independence. Their bond was clear to see. Jack watched, transfixed by Charlotte’s power and authority: how could this amazing woman control a beast such as Judas, but fall foul of a low-life such as Michael De Voe? Jack concluded that it had something to do with the fact that animals were incapable of treacherous, deceitful cruelty; whereas human beings were capable of that and more. Jack quickly left before Charlotte noticed him.

Beyond the marquees for the horses, the church hall had been temporarily converted into a police and ambulance base. This was what always happened during large-scale local events, so seeing numerous police officers, paramedics and first aiders coming and going wasn’t unusual. To all intents and purposes, this event had been organised like any other – and it had to be, because if this gang had been working the area, on and off, for the past three years, they could well have been around the annual equestrian event before. They would know what to expect, and would notice anything out of place.

The final area that Jack walked round was a field at the far end of the extensive site, away from the horses, that had been converted into a helicopter pad. This was something a little bit unusual: a helicopter from a flying school just south of Swindon had been privately hired at the last minute. Gifford had been able to discover that the client who booked the helicopter was a celebrity who wanted to treat their friends to an aerial view of the area. But Gifford didn’t know who the celebrity was, nor where they were staying whilst in the Cotswolds. This was a perfect example of the problem with policing this area: privacy. People paid handsomely for it and therefore felt they were entitled to it. But there was an upside: the field was also going to be used by the police helicopter once it arrived.