Mickey kept a straight face. Wondering where this was going.

‘Let me guess. You played him my voice?’

‘Yes. And he positively ID’d that recording as being the Car Park Killer.’

‘Really?’ Mickey looking from Haskins to Irving. Putting his best bemused face on. ‘This is what you’re planning to charge me with? Knowing an alleged arms dealer who now can’t be found? Being about the same height and build as the Car Park Killer? Being proficient with the weapon he used? And being voice-ID’d by a twelve-year-old, who was probably scared out of his wits when the Car Park Killer spoke to him? It doesn’t sound like CPS will be all that keen to prosecute on that evidence to me.’

And waited. Wondering what else they had on him. No mention of Number 37 yet. Surely they’d have questioned Tamara on that subject? Wanting to know how she came to be on the spot at just the right time. And nothing on Lewis’s death either.

‘That’s not all. Although it’s a decent enough circumstantial case in itself.’

Yeah, thought Mickey. But where’s the hook to hang it off?

‘Here’s how this plays out, Sergeant.’

Jasmine, leaning forward across the table. Revealing her true colours, apparently to Haskins’ surprise.

‘I think we’ll have you charged with the murder of Warren Margetson. Just to be going on with. I’m pretty sure we can persuade a jury that you were in that alley with that pistol. You had the means. You had the motive. And you clearly had the opportunity. I think a jury will put you away for it. As long as your previous record isn’t allowed to blinker them to the facts. And as for the Car Park Massacre, I think we can afford to wait, don’t you? At some point your friend Mr Hyde is going to come to light. Want to know why?’

Mickey nodded equably. Happy enough to let the senior officer talk.

‘He’s going to get homesick. That’s why. Wherever it is he’s run to, he won’t last a year. Because he’s just another North London boy. And wherever he’s gone, it’ll be too hot. The food won’t be to his liking. And he’ll run out of money too.’

Hah. Mickey doubted that money was ever going to be the problem. Not that he could afford to provide any clue on that score. Jasmine sat back. Looking triumphant. Having, Mickey presumed, misread whatever minute facial signal he’d given out on that last point.

‘You can still make this easy on yourself. By not having your reputation dragged through the courts and the media. And on your wife, for the same reason. She seems like a good person. Do you really want to put her through that? And then there’s Ms Egerton, of course.’