So I tell him the whole thing: what I did to Elstree, what Daphne said to me, everything in no special order. He is a good listener. I cry a bit with relief, I send him the diaries, and then we put a load of washing in and do the dishes like an old married couple. Then Shandy wakes up and shambles in like a bear. We make coffee and take it on the roof, where Shandy and I scowl indiscriminately at London and Roman thinks aloud.

‘You know,’ he says, ‘BigSky doesn’t really operate the way you think. It isn’t a normal corporate structure. It’s more like Minecraft. Nobody’s really controlling it. There’s shadowy stuff going on but there is no big conspiracy, there’s no Board of Directors playing at being potentates. That’s not to say there aren’t dangers, because there are.’

‘He has a point,’ Shandy says. ‘The tail does occasionally wag the dog at BigSky.’

‘I think you were right about the Creeper,’ I tell Roman. ‘I don’t think it was Martin Elstree. When I went after him, he was defenceless. He said he was going to have me removed, but I think he was giving orders to someone else.’

‘Maybe there are other Daphnes who don’t share her scruples,’ Shandy says.

I snort. I’m not sure what scruples Daphne has, exactly.

‘I think if we follow the data trail, we’re going to find that Elstree was taking money from both O and BigSky,’ Roman says. ‘BigSky may not even care about the IP, they may have just been trying to get the measure of O and Little Bird. A technology that implants upgradable AI into your actual skull is a fairly big deal. Much bigger than the Council for Alternative Therapies, Charlie. Much, much bigger.’

I have a splitting headache and my stomach feels like a zoo.

‘What about the last pigeon?’ I croak.

Roman is smiling. ‘We’ve traced it to Brittany. There’s a country cottage. It’s not in Olivia’s name, but it’s been customised to be accessible for wheelchairs.’

I feel a surge of hopeful expectation accompanied by stabbing pain in my head. Stupid vodka.

‘Donato is already on his way.’

‘Don’t let her get wind that he’s coming,’ I mutter, rubbing my temples. ‘She’ll just move on again. Maybe you should go, too.’

‘Can’t. I’ve got a meeting with some BigSky developers to talk about security risks in The Dark Side. I’m going to try to convince them to delay the launch. The death of Martin Elstree will spook them.’

I wince. I killed a person. But I’m no killer. Ergo, there must be someone to blame besides myself.

Mustn’t there?

‘I’m getting you a painkiller,’ Roman says, going into the kitchen.