Michael shook his head at the answer. It was not what he wanted to hear.

Levy continued.

‘Michael, have you got some reason to think that Derek Reid is in danger?’

‘I . . . I don’t, no.’ Michael felt his blood pressure reduce as he heard his own answer. ‘I’ve just got a bad feeling, that’s all. I don’t know why.’

‘Do you want me to send someone round to his address? To check on him?’

‘No. No, there’s no need. I’m close by. I’ll go myself.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure. Like I said, it’s just a feeling based on nothing.’

‘OK,’ Levy replied. ‘Then get yourself there and make yourself feel better.’

FIFTY-FOUR

Lonsdale Square was barely two miles from the Central Criminal Court. A fifteen-minute journey by car, assuming typical London traffic. Twice the time by bus. A good black cab driver could shave another five minutes from the figure by using the back streets and rat-runs learned from the four-year intensive education that was accurately nicknamed ‘The Knowledge’.

Michael hailed the first black cab that passed as he rushed from the court building and onto the street outside. It was the right decision. The driver took right and left turns to avoid the traffic, roadworks and dead-ends that blight the route. Paid by distance, he seemed eager to finish the fare and start the next.

Michael watched as the world passed by the window, every inch of it a blur. Nothing his eyes took in could shift the image in his mind. The thought of Derek Reid suffering the same fate as Longman and Blunt. It was ridiculous, he realised. But it would not go away.

The sound of Michael’s mobile phone broke through his darkest thoughts. He took the handset from his pocket and lifted it to his ear.

‘Is everything OK?’ Sarah’s voice was worried. ‘I’ve just listened to your messages.’

‘I don’t know.’ Michael could hear how tense he sounded. ‘I’m on my way to Derek’s. To make sure he’s OK.’

‘I’m sure he is,’ Sarah replied. ‘Remember what he told me. He was taking himself off the grid for a few days.’

‘Yeah, I know that. But I’m just gonna make sure for myself.’

Sarah was silent for a moment.

‘Michael, there’s something you need to know.’

The tone of Sarah’s voice sent a shiver down Michael’s spine.

‘It’s about Karl Hirst,’ she continued. ‘Whoever told you that he is still in custody was wrong. Hirst is out. He’s been out for three years.’

Michael was silent as his heart rate doubled in an instant. The adrenaline that came with it made everything else seem unreal.

‘That’s not possible,’ Michael finally said, his tone flat. ‘I made arrangements. I—’

‘It was a political release,’ Sarah interrupted. ‘A cover-up. Your guy probably couldn’t risk telling you. Not with everything else being kept so under wraps.’

Michael tried to think through what Sarah was telling him, but his mind could no longer analyse concepts like politics and cover-ups. All he could see was Karl Hirst and Derek Reid, and the atrocities one could be inflicting upon the other.