‘You don’t become instrumental in cutting off funding for a group like the Free People’s Army without making some seriously dangerous enemies along the way. These are people even Okoro is worried about and, as a former prosecutor for the International Criminal Court, Okoro doesn’t scare easily.’

‘So, Simeon not turning up for court is . . . ?’

‘Inconvenient. Let’s leave it at that.’

Priest stopped outside a shop no wider than a doorway. A sign above it advertised laptop and PC repairs for a very reasonable price that would be waived if lost information could not be retrieved.

‘It’s this one,’ he announced.

‘He lives in an electronics store?’ Georgie sounded sceptical.

‘He lives above an electronics store.’

He indicated up, directing Georgie to a single window above the shop looking out across the street to a run-down Methodist chapel.

‘How do you get through to the flat?’ she asked.

By way of an answer, Priest opened the door to the shop and walked in. Inside, a narrow counter ran up the left-hand side of the small galley. The wall on the opposite side was plastered from floor to ceiling with little bags containing computer parts: virtual memory, motherboards, sound cards, hard drives, unspecified bits of random circuit board. At the end of the counter, a scrawny man in his early sixties stared at the carcass of a desktop computer through thick-rimmed glasses.

‘Hello,’ said Priest. ‘It’s Graham, isn’t it?’

‘No. It’s Gary.’

Priest faltered, then recalled that this had happened the last time he had met Gary. I simply cannot get this guy’s name into my head.

‘I’m sorry. Gary.’

‘You’re Priest,’ Gary said, looking up only momentarily from his examination. Evidently, he recalled their last encounter.

‘I’m looking for the tenant.’ He nodded at the ceiling.

‘Haven’t seen him for the last couple of days.’

‘Can you be a bit more specific on when you last saw him?’

‘It’s in the back. Look for yourself.’

‘I’m obliged.’

Priest skipped past him with Georgie following, through a set of beads hanging from a door frame. He recalled that this led to a small set of stairs to the flat above.

‘He seems friendly,’ she remarked as they reached the top and faced the door to Simeon’s flat.

‘I keep calling him Graham by mistake. That’s going to grate on you after a while.’

Priest knocked loudly. He still had a policeman’s knock. Generally, he disliked sounding arrogant at someone else’s door but that and the pension were legacies from ten years in the Met. It was fruitless anyway. Simeon understood the importance of the trial. If he hadn’t turned up, he was hardly going to open his door readily.