Will gave him the story, as concisely as possible. Kim heard him out in silence, weaving his way north-eastwards through the London traffic in an unusually sedate manner, presumably so as not to get stopped by the police.

“What a mess,” he said once Will had finished. “Your instinct not to hang around at the scene of the crime was a good one, but what a bloody mess. I suppose you had to leave the Messer.”

“It’s harder to get a knife out than to stick it in. And I didn’t think it needed extra fingerprints of mine on it.”

“If only Chingford had your sense. On the down side, it’s extremely identifiable, and indeed it has been identified.”

“Already? Shit. How did the Met get on that?”

“They didn’t,” Kim said. “The Private Bureau did.”

“What?”

“I had that appointment with DS this afternoon. I was hoping to bargain for Chingford’s life. Instead, I found myself buttonholed by an extremely angry Bill Merton, who said you beat the daylights out of one of his men at the bookshop.”

“Oh, bugger,” Will said wholeheartedly. “Damn.”

“Is there a reason—?”

“He held a gun to my head, and he didn’t identify himself.”

“Seems fair to me,” Kim said. “DS won’t see it that way: he takes these things personally. Merton has been following up the Fairfax–Zodiac connection since he spoke to you a few days ago, and is also talking to Rennick. He recognised the description of the Messer. How the blazes does he know the Messer?”

“I showed it to him at the shop when we were talking about Captain Yoxall. Oh, hell: there might have been a journalist hanging round outside as well.”

“Looking in through the windows? Marvellous.”

They were driving up the Columbia Road, which Will only knew in its Sunday best as a flower market, heading towards Stratford, the last rays of the sun well behind them. He had no idea where they were going; away was all he needed at this point. “Sorry. I’ve made a real mess of this.”

“Not your fault,” Kim said. “This is what dealing with Zodiac has always been like. I assumed Waring was the twisty brain behind it but clearly Leo has impressive powers. Which raises the question: how the devil did he know enough about the Aveston deal to set you up like that? That came off before Fairfax’s death. Has he been watching you, or me, for a while?”

“That’s a good question,” Will said slowly. “You know George Yoxall is friends with Aveston? His name came up when we were talking.”

“The same Yoxall who Fairfax attempted to blackmail, and who has no alibi for the murder?”

Will did not want to consider Captain Yoxall’s nephew in that light. “Oh, hell, Kim. I liked him. He seemed a decent man.”