I texted Annabel to tell her I was back in London and that I’d give her a call in the morning as I had a meeting over in Highgate and probably wouldn’t be back until late, and then – just as I was getting dressed – my phone started to buzz on the bed.

It was the number of a hotel just outside Luton.

‘Shame you’re not earning loyalty points for all these rooms you’re paying for,’ Healy said when I answered. That made me smile, despite myself. ‘I’m checking in.’

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah, everything seems fine.’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Stay where you are until I call.’

‘And when’ll that be?’

‘I don’t know. Just sit tight.’

He didn’t respond to that.

‘You all set for Zaid?’ he asked eventually.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘His PA called an hour ago to confirm everything.’

‘So what time are you seeing him?’

I glanced at the clock. It was just after 6 p.m.

‘I have to be at his house in an hour.’

As I was locking up, someone entered the driveway.

‘Mr Raker?’

I spun around, immediately on the defensive.

It was a man in his thirties, thinning on top and dressed in a suit that didn’t fit. I vaguely recognized him, but my head was so full of noise about the meeting with Robert Zaid, I couldn’t place where from. He’d stopped on the other side of my car, his eyes shifting to the damage at its front. ‘You’re a hard man to pin down,’ he said, ‘you know that?’ He dug around in his pocket for something and brought out a business card. ‘It’s great to finally meet you in the flesh.’

I felt a rush of blood to the head: suddenly, I remembered who he was – and, as I did, my throat closed.

He held out the card to me.

Connor McCaskell. Reporter, Daily Tribune.

‘I expect you remember me now.’

‘What the hell do you want?’

I almost spat the words at him.

‘I thought we could discuss my story.’

‘Yeah? What story’s that?’

He smiled. ‘The story I’m going to write about you.’

I brushed past him and unlocked my car.

‘I’d really like us to work together.’

I smirked. ‘I bet you would.’

He didn’t seem surprised by the response; in fact, from his expression, it looked like he’d been expecting it. ‘You just keep fighting me, David.’

I almost laughed. ‘Are you serious?’

‘You don’t answer my calls –’