On the viewers’ poll, Sky was reporting that 72 per cent of people wanted British troops taken out of Iraq if there was a chance that it might save Katie’s life. They switched briefly to the launch of a new government initiative to encourage more teenagers to go to the gym. Their political editor came on the screen to dismiss it as an ‘eye-catching initiative, designed to deflect attention from the kidnapping story’, and within minutes Sky had gone back to the Katie Dartmouth saga. The website showing pictures of Katie’s captivity had already received twenty million visitors from around the world. In Trafalgar Square, the ‘Vigil for Katie’s Release’ had grown overnight, and the police now estimated there were five thousand people camping out overnight in the square, and they had pledged to remain there until the PM started negotiating directly for Katie Dartmouth’s release. The Sky reporter started interviewing one of them, pointing out that the forecast was for sweeping rains and gales across London tonight. ‘We don’t care,’ said a young woman dressed in a blue overcoat. ‘We’re staying here until the war is finished, and Katie Dartmouth is brought back from the Lebanon alive.’

Then the coverage switched to some breaking news. Sir Elton John had just announced that he was recording a special version of ‘Someone Saved My Life Tonight’ with reworked lyrics, designed to appeal for Katie’s release. The song was being recorded tomorrow, and would be available as a download on iTunes by Friday morning. Already there were predictions that it would eclipse the massive sales of his reworked version of ‘Candle in the Wind’ composed for Princess Diana’s funeral.

Christ, thought Porter to himself. The whole country is going nuts. And I’m the only man with any chance of bringing it back to its senses.

There was a knock on the door. Porter glanced up. Danni was coming into the room, with her bag of medical kit under her arm. He had already dimmed the lights in his small bedroom, so the room was mainly lit by the glow of the TV screen. He killed the sound, and looked back up towards her, noticing the way the fuzzy light from the tube caught the blonde streaks dyed into her hair, creating a golden glow around her shapely face. ‘My medicine,’ he said with a smile.

She nodded, kneeling down beside him. ‘Roll up your sleeves,’ she said.

Porter planted his feet on the floor. He was wearing just a sweatshirt and black jeans, and he pushed up the sleeve on his left arm to expose the bare flesh underneath. Danni had already taken a swab of cotton wool, and was smearing some disinfectant across the skin. Porter closed his eyes as the needle pierced him, wondering if he was about to be put to sleep: he didn’t mind injections too much, but didn’t like to watch them. ‘All done,’ she said, within a fraction of a second.

‘There’s another kind of medicine I need,’ said Porter. ‘The kind you find in a bottle.’