‘Enough,’ interrupted the landlord, trying to regain control of the situation. ‘Don’t answer that. You’ve had your fun, now let him get on with his work.’

‘Now come on, Barry,’ said Gilbert, mustering himself to withstand his friend’s disapproval. ‘It’s not an unfair question to ask.’

‘Will you do me a favour, Gilbert, and stay out of this.’

‘I will not stay out of it,’ he said, blushing hard. ‘I don’t want to be burnt alive in the pub…’ Ayub’s brows jumped in astonishment. ‘Or you know, blown up or machine-gunned or run over with a truck or whatever it is they’re doing now. I’m not saying you’re a terrorist, Ayub,’ he clarified. ‘Of course not. Just that it’s not unfair in these circumstances, when people are being killed in normal towns in England just like this one, to ask who’s who.’

‘Wow, Gilbert, that’s the last time I make your sunshine toast for you. And you,’ he stared at the chief, ‘you’re a fat racist.’

‘Hey,’ said the landlord. ‘Don’t you get riled up.’

The chief spread his hands genially. ‘What’s race got to do with it, effendi? You are a Muslim, aren’t you?’

The landlord said, ‘He’s answered your questions, which is more than he had to. And he’s told you no, so back off.’

The chief asked his audience, ‘Is that how it works? Someone says he’s not a fundamentalist and that’s it, you believe him? Maybe they should do the same test at airports. “Good morning, sir, are you a terrorist? No? Alright then, sorry to bother you, let me give you a hand with that bag.” You’re the expert, Jez; does that sound like a good plan to you?’

Jeremy had no idea what was going on. He said, ‘Errrm…’

Rosie spoke up again: ‘Jeremy. You know that this is – that he’s obviously not—’

‘Put a cork in it, sweetheart,’ said the chief.

‘Let the girl say what she wants,’ the landlord ruled. ‘Go on, love. Finish what you were saying.’

She began to explain, but the chief cut her off: ‘We can talk more about your investigative skills back at the bunker, but for now why don’t you shut the fuck up and let the real journalists try to stop us all getting burnt alive.’

Rosie gaped like a coshed fish. Will shifted. Although he thought meanly, just to himself, that ruffling someone maybe unfairly was a fair price for making absolutely sure about this, he said, ‘I don’t know, chief. Maybe—’

‘You pipe down, too, whippersnapper.’

‘I just think that actually Rosie has a—’

‘When I want my subs to think, I’ll let you know.’