Priest thought about the moment when he had thrown his ID on the superintendent’s desk and walked out for the last time. He’d worked in a bar for six months after that – cleaning glasses, pulling pints of bitter and throwing out troublemakers. The most educated barman in London, his old boss had said. What was that guy’s name, now?

‘The police and I had a disagreement,’ Priest said eventually.

Jansen smiled – he seemed to appreciate people who didn’t answer questions directly. Must be his profession. ‘And what was the nature of this disagreement?’

‘They thought I knew what I was doing. I thought they were wrong.’

Jansen laughed. ‘That’s good, Charlie. Very abstract. You’d have made a fine journalist, as well as a lawyer.’

‘What did you tell him?’ asked Priest. ‘Rowlinson.’

‘I told him we were with you the whole time, and Vincent and Georgie.’

Priest nodded. ‘I see.’

‘Interesting, though, don’t you think?’ said Jansen. He rested his chin on his hand, stared at Priest’s tea thoughtfully. Priest surmised that he was being deliberately enigmatic – playing the insightful amateur detective, although for what reason he wasn’t sure.

‘How so?’ he asked.

‘Well. We weren’t all there, were we, Charlie? Not all of the time, at least.’

*

Priest led Tomas into court thirteen and sat him down three rows back from the front. Gail was already there, as was Georgie who cast him a determined smile as he set out a laptop in the row behind Okoro.

To his left, Hagworth was trying to get a folder open. To Priest’s surprise, Dominique Elias was sitting behind Hagworth, hands clasped together on the table, eyes straight ahead.

A door opened at the front and Justice Peters swept in, her hair tied up in a bun and a Bible-length copy of the Civil Procedure Rules tucked under her arm. Everyone in the courtroom rose as one; even the media rabble gathered at the back sensed her authority and stood. She slammed the book down on the table and indicated that they should find their seats, although Hagworth had barely yet managed to stand.

They sat and waited while Peters made notes. Eventually, she looked up.

‘Can we clear the public gallery, please.’

At first nobody moved. Peters waited a few moments before addressing the assembled journalists directly.

‘Can we clear the public gallery, please.’

There was some reluctance, but as the court usher opened the door, they eventually filed out. Peters waited until the door was shut and the grumbles had faded before turning to the advocates.

‘Mr Hagworth,’ she said. ‘I gather that your client is dead.’

Hagworth was still standing. ‘I very much regret so, Your Honour.’

‘Mr Elias.’ Peters looked beyond Hagworth at the forlorn figure hunched over the bench behind him. ‘The court offers you its sincerest condolences.’

Elias nodded, a curt non-committal acknowledgement.

‘And, Mr Okoro, I gather your witness is also dead.’