She closed the bathroom door behind her. There wasn’t a lock. She knelt on the floor and wedged her right foot against it. The bathroom cabinet was on the far side of the sink. She reached over but its door opened towards her so that she couldn’t see inside. She paused to listen. She couldn’t hear any movement. She tiptoed towards the narrow cupboard. It was empty. She pushed on the base plate and it didn’t budge. She tried to get her nails down the side and prise it up but there wasn’t enough of a gap and her nails were trimmed too short. She had no choice but to give it a whack. She turned the tap on, then flushed the toilet before giving the bottom of the cupboard a bang with her fist. The wood tilted in its frame and she darted a finger under the edge and slowly raised it up.

There was a small rectangular box inside. She lifted it out. It was light, too light for a gun, but she knew before she opened the lid that there was a weapon inside. There were two items: a syringe filled with a clear liquid and a yellow pencil with a small red cap and 4B printed in gold on the side. Bloom stared at the pencil. Seraphine’s original murder weapon. As a young girl she had dispatched the school caretaker who had raped her friend with an exact replica. It was an event of particular significance for Seraphine. The moment she realized she was not normal.

More of Seraphine’s games. A fresh new test. How had she put these here? As soon as Bloom thought of the question, she knew the answer. Seraphine knew about Jameson’s safe house down the road where they’d been hiding Harry. It was why she had orchestrated the use of this apartment. But how could she know these things? How for that matter was she manipulating these people? She was playing chess with every person she met.

Bloom didn’t want to take the items – she’d be playing into Seraphine’s hands – but she couldn’t throw away their one chance at survival. She removed the syringe and placed it in the pocket of her trousers. Then she replaced the box in its hiding place and repositioned the base plate. She returned to the lounge and sat back in her seat.

There had to be another way.

She met the foot soldier’s eyes and smiled. ‘I’m Augusta. Do you have a name?’

His brow furrowed and he said nothing.

‘Your boss is speaking to the boss, I take it?’

His expression confirmed that she was right. He was easy to read. That would be helpful.

‘I take it the man who died in the rehabilitation centre was your colleague. Did you know him?’

The young man’s eyes focused on her.