She didn’t respond and he wanted her to.

‘My Holloway privileges will be revoked, I’m guessing.’

‘A privilege, was it?’ she asked.

‘A great privilege.’

He thought she was gone and then he heard a ragged breath. ‘Etienne LeBrac was the love of my life. But some days you make me forget him and I don’t think I can forgive you for that.’

Good. Now he knew what he was up against. The ghost of a man who hadn’t lived long enough to fuck up a marriage. Who would stay eternally perfect in the eyes of the woman and child who adored him.

‘When you can forgive me for making you forget, send me a letter. Handwritten. I might just have to give up my Saturday afternoons to see you.’

She didn’t have a response. And for now, Bish was happy with that. ‘Do you want to talk to your brother?’ he asked.

‘Of course.’

He waved Sarraf over.

‘You know, you’re going to faint if you don’t lie down,’ Sarraf told him, taking his phone.

‘I’m not prone to fainting.’

When he came to again, Attal was standing over him, one eye concealed by a heavy swollen lid, which had bled down his face. A man that ugly didn’t need another scar.

‘Benoix,’ Bish mumbled.

The captain knelt and gripped his hand. Didn’t let go. Bish could see he was gutted, but there was relief in his eyes. Then the paramedic dared suggest Attal sit down so she could attend to his face, and a shouting match ensued.

Bish eventually learnt from Sarraf that Attal had been combing through the Eurostar at Fréthun when he was alerted to their message. It was minutes before the bomb went off. His first instinct was to contact the school, but there was no answer and at 4.05 he collapsed to his knees and wept. Then he got a call from Marianne telling him she was safe. So he went after Benoix, arresting him in a bar on Boulevard Jacquard. But not before beating him to a pulp. Benoix had managed to get a few in himself, by the looks of things. He was now in the custody of French Intelligence and Attal had been told to stay away.

‘French Intelligence want Eddie’s photos,’ Sarraf said. ‘Especially the one with Dussollier.’

Attal was mumbling something to Sarraf while fighting off the paramedic.

‘He wants us to come home with him.’

‘Tell him it’s not necessary,’ Bish said.

‘I think we should go,’ Sarraf said quietly.

Sarraf pulled up at the capitaine’s home just as Attal and Marianne were getting out of the car. Her blue eyes were filled with angry tears.

‘They are dead because of me,’ she told Bish when he joined them. ‘The English and the Spanish girl and Monsieur Sagur.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘They’re dead because of Benoix.’

The woman who opened the door to them held Marianne wordlessly and Bish could see her hands trembling. When she let go, she ushered them all inside.