‘Isobel said she was a friend of Julian’s stepdaughter Clara and was staying that summer to improve her French. But I spoke to Clara this morning and she’s never heard of or seen this girl.’

‘So who is she?’

‘This picture was taken in early July 2015, not long after you’d been lifting migrants out of the sea off the coast of Italy. And we wondered if this girl might have been one of them?’

‘Why would she be with Julian?’

‘Maybe you needed to hide her,’ said Jameson.

Harry picked up the paper again. ‘She looks young.’

‘Isobel estimated about sixteen or seventeen but I think she could be even younger.’

‘And whoever I was hiding her from, you think they’re the people who’ve done this to me?’

‘Yes and no,’ said Jameson. Bloom looked surprised and he moved closer to the table and turned the photograph over to write on the back. ‘Somebody skilled and organized kidnapped you from the ball under the cover of a terrorist attack. They performed intricate surgery to remove your memories and placed you back in hospital to recover.’ He drew a series of circles for each event linked with a line. ‘Then, while you recovered, they sent people for you again, but this time the men end up shooting each other. One of the men wanted to keep you alive, the other wanted to kill you.’ He wrote the words ‘Dead’ and ‘Alive’. ‘The thing that’s been bugging me is not only did these last two guys have such different motivations,’ he pointed at the words ‘Dead’ and ‘Alive’ again, ‘but they also had such different kit. One of them had the latest top-of-the-range gun and body armour, while the other, Freddie, had well-used gear and a Sig Sauer P226, the same firearm issued to me in MI6. Which means—’ He felt someone brush past him to sit in the spare seat at the table.

‘You have two separate groups coming after Harry,’ said the new arrival.

Jameson knew who it was without looking. He recognized her perfume. The smell of it caused bile to swill into his mouth. He looked to his right. Seraphine was wearing her hair in a neat bun and her fair skin had tanned in the sun. He was unable to look away.

‘Hi, Marcus.’ She took a sip of the flat white Bloom had placed on the table.

Bloom was expecting her.

Bloom had invited her.