‘Or realistic, maybe. I’m sorry, Peter, but this is something I have to do.’

For a moment he said nothing, and I thought the connection had been lost. I pressed the phone to my ear.

‘You keep saying that, Joe, but you’re forgetting what I’m trying to do for you.’

‘They haven’t found it yet, have they?’

‘Found what?’

‘A body. All that police manpower at the country park, all that expertise and technology, all the sniffer dogs, all the digging, ground-penetrating radar and whatever else they’ve got, all that time and effort in such a small area. And still they’ve come up empty-handed. You know why that is?’

More silence.

‘You still there?’ I said.

‘I’m starting to suspect that we no longer have an understanding, Joe.’

I didn’t like the sound of that.

‘My understanding is that I’m paying you for legal advice.’

‘Yes. But unless you get off that train at the next stop and come right back to London I’m going to have to reconsider our arrangement.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means I will have to consider whether the best interests of both parties are served by our continuing involvement.’ His words were intermittent now, the line breaking up as the train moved through tunnels and cuttings bordered with concrete. ‘Or if it would . . . for all concerned . . . our contractual relationship was terminated at this . . . you find an alternative –’

The line went silent. Larssen’s voice was gone, cut off by another tunnel. It didn’t matter: his message had been clear enough. I put the phone on the table in front of me. The train was gathering speed as it threw off the shackles of the capital, climbing out of a cutting and onto an embankment overlooking a dual carriageway. The red brake lights of hundreds of cars matched our pace, snaking into the distance, heading north. The mobile vibrated with a new call. Larssen again. I rejected the call, put the phone on silent and put it in my pocket.

Night was creeping in, casting my reflection in the window. There were dark shadows under my eyes, two days’ worth of stubble on my cheeks. I looked tired, frightened, hunted. Like a man who had already been tried and found guilty.

My wife had cheated on me. Her ex-lover was trying to set me up for murder. My best friend had turned his back on me and my solicitor was about to drop me like a condemned man.

From here on in, I was on my own.

Chapter 68

68