‘On the other hand,’ said Max reasonably, not quite knowing what to make of what he was saying, ‘the people who worked with the 7/7 bombers all said they were nice, quiet people.’

At that, Gilbert became flustered. He shifted forward as if to speak, but seemed to think better of it and, looking down his glass at the thick amber disc in its base, murmured, ‘Hmm.’

The landlord just about kept his temper, and said, ‘Listen, gents. You’re shaken up, and rightly so. You’ve been threatened; a man’s been horribly burnt. But you need to calm down.’

Jeremy said, ‘No one’s saying he’s a terrorist just because he’s a Muslim.’

But the chief didn’t stop. ‘You should know, Jez, you’re the Islamist sniffer dog, aren’t you, rooting out jihadis like a pig snuffling through shit. But don’t you think it’s worth finding out why, of all the pubs in all the towns and cities in the whole of England, he gets himself a job in an out-of-the-way village that just happens to be half a mile down the road from the Beast’s secret offices?’

Will’s head began to thump the way it did before edition. Was it suspicious? On the face of it of course not. But everything at the moment was different from the face of things. And maybe it was odd to come all the way from wherever he’d come from to a place like Bucklebury, where the only thing nearby was the Beast. Of course there was almost certainly nothing to it. Almost certainly not, that was obvious. But not certainly not. And didn’t their very suspicion necessarily mean that it was suspicious? He drank from his pint, but his mouth stayed dry.

The chief asked the landlord, ‘How long’s he worked here? Where did he come from?’

The landlord shuddered a kind of incredulous laugh, but his anger was reaching the surface. He said, ‘I think that’s probably about enough, don’t you? Ayub’s a good lad and has nothing to do with what’s been going on. If you don’t like it, you can find somewhere else to drink.’

‘And how are you going to admit you were wrong if this place gets burnt down with you in it?’

The landlord appealed to Jeremy. ‘If you’re the expert, you can tell him this is ridiculous.’ Maybe it was. This terrorism stuff was like boxing a gang of shadows; any one of them might really be a man in black. He had that vertiginous feeling again, of a terrible reality intruding. He tried to listen to the long-honed news-sense that had let him make the spot the day before, but got nothing. He said, ‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to find out some more.’