‘They’re raiding Elias’s house in London now,’ said Rowlinson, but it did little to pacify Priest.

They reached the pathway, but it wound up too slowly so Priest scrambled up the rock face, Rowlinson behind him. The incline was sharp but manageable. Every so often they crossed the track, trampling over ferns and moss, occasionally losing footing but climbing all the time.

‘I don’t get it!’ Rowlinson shouted up. ‘What’s Julian done to upset Jones so much?’

‘Nothing. That’s not the point. Julian is the boy that was allowed to live a normal life, it’s Karl’s way of punishing Alexia and Dominique for what they did to Elinor, who he’s been obsessed with for years. He wants to punish Julian, too, for taking her place. Karl found out about what had happened to Elinor and he’s trying to balance everything out – it’s his own warped karma.’

‘But Alexia and Dominique are dead!’ Rowlinson panted. He was falling behind but Priest didn’t wait for him to catch up. The peak was in sight, one more cross of the track and he would be there. ‘They’re not here to be punished.’

‘He’s doing this for Elinor, not the Eliases,’ Priest shouted back.

He leapt over a rock on the edge of the cliff and found himself on a flat space overgrown with prickly bushes and small trees, with the track descending into the distance either side of the rock face jutting out in front.

He stopped, his face fell.

What in the name of God is that?

Rowlinson heaved himself up next to Priest, wheezing and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. At first he didn’t see what was at the end of the cliff, looking instead to where the track wound back down the bank. In the distance, the North Sea lapped at the scree below. The sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon but cast a brilliant blaze of purple and red across the sky.

‘Tiff,’ breathed Priest. ‘Look.’

At the edge of the cliff stood a freestanding steel safe, a large cuboid with a circular dial in the centre easily big enough to store a young boy. On top of the safe was a box. As Priest made his way over he saw that this was actually a crude panel spliced together from different components comprising two analogue circular buttons, one above the other, and a simple digital display, which seemed to be off. To the left of the box, a piece of card had been taped to the safe lid, a corner raised slightly. On the card were printed words: PEEL ME.

Priest raised his hand, but Rowlinson had already taken hold of the card and pulled it.

‘I’m tired of this game,’ he fumed.

‘No, wait!’