Bevan fast-forwarded all of the recordings thirty-seven seconds and pressed play. The biker stepped out from his hiding place and got on his mobile phone. Whilst he talked, the biker paced in front of the camera, not remotely bothered by the fact that he was being recorded. He then put his mobile away and walked towards the house. Bevan fast-forwarded a further one minute and twenty-six seconds. The gates opened. Two masked men nimbly climbed the stone walls and spray-painted the camera lenses, exactly as Jack had suspected. These two masked men then disabled the inside gate cameras in the same way. Then just before the final camera lens was covered in spray-paint, a fourth masked man walked past in the background. In his hand, he brazenly carried a crowbar. Following him in was a car pulling a double horsebox. Bevan paused all four screens.

Jack’s mind raced as he finally made sense of something he’d heard Mathew say. ‘Masked men,’ he said to himself. Then he closed his eyes and bowed his head, almost in shame. Bevan and Davidson couldn’t bring themselves to interrupt Jack’s moment of self-reproach. He then quickly stood upright and strode away across the room. He stood, hands on hips, looking at Gifford who was now leaning against his door frame.

‘When I was at the house, sir, Mathew rushed into the kitchen, frightened, shouting about “masked men”. Seeing as his home was swarming with CSIs at the time, everyone thought he was talking about them, but he was talking about the burglars. The masked burglars.’ Jack paced, trying to put the chain of events together. ‘The scout opened the gates for them. They brought weapons with them, meaning they’ve always been prepared for confrontation. What else? What else? There’s something I need to remember . . . come on, Jack . . . Yes! The oily stain. Bevan, get on to forensics and fast-track the results on the stain that was collected from the back of the chair in Barrowman’s study. Ronnie, we need that pizza box . . .’

‘I’ll call forensics. They’ll be quicker for me.’ Gifford was on his mobile before Jack had time to thank him. ‘What are we thinking the oily stain is going to turn out to be?’

‘If these cocky bastards were in the house just seconds after Idris left . . . if they took Mathew by surprise and took him out of the equation quickly, what would they do next?’

Davidson replied instinctively. ‘I’d eat his pizza.’