Goodwin kept detailed records of everyone who hired his horse trailers, so he was able to provide a driving licence and phone number for Mr Smart. Oaks knew that both would be fake, but at least they would provide a starting point for two new lines of enquiry.

‘So, you left the keys under the wheel arch as requested and, in the morning, the horse trailer was gone?’ Oaks asked.

Goodwin confirmed that Mr Smart paid in full upfront, so he was more than happy to accommodate his requests. It wasn’t unusual for people to collect hire-vehicles during the night, because driving on empty roads was better for the horses and many of the local events and competitions started early. The trailer had been returned in much the same way: in the dead of night, with no witnesses.

‘I saw them.’ Oaks spun round to see a young lad with a broom in his hand. He was small, wearing tight clothes that showed off his lean body. Oaks guessed that he was in his late teens and definitely a jockey in the making. ‘I didn’t see them bring the trailer back, but I saw them pick it up.’

The stable boy’s name was Justin Estrada. It turned out he was of Guatemalan descent, born in Gloucester and had always yearned to be a jockey. He was the perfect build and temperament. He flowed as he walked, almost as if he was floating, and the animals adored him. He explained how he’d been woken at around two in the morning by the sound of a motorbike. He got up and looked out of his window, as he was worried that the noise might disturb the horses. As he looked down into the yard, he saw a figure get off the back of the motorbike and head straight for the keys under the wheel arch. By the time the keys were retrieved, a car had reversed into position in front of the trailer. It took them no more than five minutes to hook up – then they were gone.

Oaks asked Justin if he could describe any of the men he saw, but he shook his head. ‘I didn’t see much. The guy who got off the back of the bike was just ordinary. He was average height and build, and he never took his helmet off. The guy who drove the car was wearing a dark hoodie and dark jeans. I never saw his face, but he was heavy-set, you know. His hoodie was tight on his biceps and around his chest. Oh, and he wore black Adidas NMDs. With the red sole. The R2, I think. Could have been the R1, but I think it was the R2.’