The London Bombings. An appeal at that moment would not have stood a chance. Bish unlocked his door and extended a hand. ‘I appreciate your time,’ he said.

‘I’m not sure if you’re aware, but there’s a journalist asking about rumours of a Noor LeBrac pregnancy thirteen years ago,’ Walden said. ‘A Sarah-something from one of those dreadful rags.’

‘What sort of questions?’

‘“We’re running a story about Eddie Conlon’s connection to Violette LeBrac” were her exact words. “Is it true you delivered babies at Foston Hall?” ’

Bish felt an uncontrollable need to smash something. The doctor gave a sympathetic grimace. ‘I think of those people often,’ Walden said. ‘Noor LeBrac. The handler. The Conlons. All of them. It’ll be a pity if Eddie Conlon’s connection to Noor is revealed. Noor LeBrac’s children were raised apart to protect the boy’s identity. It will all have been for nothing. A cruel, cruel pity.’

On his way back to London, Bish tried Violette’s number at different intervals but the phone was switched off and he figured it no longer existed. When his own mobile rang, Grazier’s name showed on the display.

‘That little cheating fucker Crombie is back behind bars,’ he said without preamble. ‘Just got himself arrested for assaulting Russell Gorman. Jumped him outside Strood railway station last night.’

It took a moment for Bish to register the victim’s name. ‘The chaperone?’ he asked. He was a bit annoyed that he hadn’t thought of jumping Gorman outside Strood railway station himself.

‘At the moment the only kids on that bus getting good press are those who are dead or injured,’ Grazier said. ‘Crombie’s association with Violette LeBrac is going to get him fried at that hearing. I’m not making threats here, Ortley, but the media will drag anyone linked to her into this mess. Including Bee.’

‘Why are you telling me this, Grazier?’

‘The Reverend and Mr Crombie have taken a liking to you. I think they’d appreciate a bit of hand-holding at the bail hearing tomorrow. Anyway, an old schoolmate of yours will be a judge on the case, so you may want to catch up.’

‘Then send Elliot.’

‘I will, but I want you there as well. There’ll be a media presence and we don’t want Elliot talking to them. He’s not very good with the uncivilised. I’ll send you the details.’ When Bish didn’t respond, Grazier said, ‘Tomorrow, two-thirty.’

Bish was about to turn onto the M20 for London when he found himself following the signs to Dover instead.

‘What if I told you I could bring in Violette and Eddie by the end of the week?’

‘I’d tell you that you’d be making the Home Secretary very happy.’

‘Well, if she wants to be happy she has to be willing to pull a few strings. Big strings. Some may say Big Impossible Strings. Are you listening?’

He heard the trademark irritated sigh, but he knew Grazier was listening.

Two hours later he entered La Forge Salle de Boxe on Rue Delacroix. Jamal Sarraf was taping the hands of a kid a little older than Eddie Conlon. Bish wondered if Sarraf saw himself in these younger lads. That fidgeting desire to get into a boxing ring or onto a football pitch. An immigrant boy’s next step to a better life. England’s cricketers always seemed so much more composed, walking calmly on and off the field, not as if their whole lives depended on it. Perhaps it was why Bish cared little for the game of cricket. He could see the skill and brilliance, but no feral hunger pulsing through the players’ veins.