‘Who does not want to do that?’ A threatening tone had entered his voice. ‘The Queen does, I am sure, and as you are involved, now my guess is that there are things in Askew’s writings that could still endanger her.’

I did not answer. Rich sighed, then continued wearily. ‘It is only the Askews and Gardiners of this world who would risk their lives over such questions as the nature of the Mass.’ He pointed a finger at me. ‘Working to preserve himself before all else is what any man endowed with reason does. You are right, Master Shardlake, I want to ensure I am safe, just as the Queen does. I have reached a dead end trying to find these missing people. I think you have, too. I have a spy at the docks, and from what he tells me, others are also there, watching for someone trying to get books out. Those people I suspect are working for the Queen.’ Again I did not answer. ‘I have limited resources, as do you,’ he went on in an irritated tone. ‘My suggestion is that the Queen and I work together to recover Askew’s book.’ He gave a bitter little laugh. ‘There have been stranger alliances these last fifteen years.’

‘I cannot forget the outcome when last I made a bargain with you,’ I said finally. ‘You tried to kill me.’

He shrugged. ‘Oh, I would like you dead, have no doubt. But larger matters are involved. I offer you limited cooperation for a specific end. And you have the Queen’s direct protection, of course.’

I sat back. ‘I would need a little time to consider.’ My feelings about Rich were violent; a mixture of disgust, loathing, and complete distrust. And yet I confess I also felt a certain pleasure sitting there dealing with him on equal terms for the first time, and pleasure, too, at the fact that I knew more than he did. And, in terms of reason, Rich was right. His proposition made sense. Furthermore, working with him would give me the opportunity to try and prevent the worst from happening – that he might get hold of the Lamentation as a by-product of retrieving Anne Askew’s writings. For that was truly explosive material. This time, it would be me playing a double game with Rich.

He said, ‘You mean, you need time to consult the Queen’s people. Yes, I understand that.’

‘You realize Anne Askew’s book may already have been smuggled out of the country, to be printed abroad.’ And the Lamentation, I thought, but did not say.

‘I think not.’ Rich leaned back again, interlacing his fingers. ‘You know of John Bale? Currently residing in exile in Antwerp?’

‘By reputation.’

‘The main publisher of heretical books in English. A likely destination for this trash, you agree?’

‘Yes.’