And Mian had already been killed, by officers acting on Nigel’s instructions. Choudry might die, too. And this was turning into the biggest counter-terror operation the Met had ever undertaken. Thousands of men pulled in from surrounding counties. All other crime as good as unattended. Hourly press conferences with the commissioner, who was on his way here with someone from the very top of MI5 wanting an update in person. He’d also warned Nigel to expect a phone call from the home secretary herself.

Nigel could feel the strain physically, as if the muscles in his arms and legs were being stretched by a weight, fraying, ripping from their bone pegs. And he was so tired. He was brittle and shaky with tiredness. His thin thoughts sketched the same shape of things over and over again. He’d drunk so much coffee he could feel it coming out in his sweat. His suit felt hot and damp. He was probably dehydrated.

He went over to the water cooler and, as he reached to depress the little blue lever, realized what he was about to do. Making a sound that fortunately emerged as a high-pitched shout but was really at least half sob, he hit the transparent water barrel with the flat of his hand. It rocked heavily in its place, but didn’t fall.

The officer at Choudry’s door stood up in concern and said, ‘Don’t worry, boss. We’ll get them.’

22

A diary girl texting in the corridor jumped aside to let Will and Rosie pass, still blinking and stumbling, and then they were around the corner and into the clamour of the newsroom. They rushed between the desks to where the subs were sitting. Max saw them, shifted the pencil to the other side of his mouth, and said, ‘Feeling keen? You can practise your headlines on the NIBs page if you like. See if you can beat one of mine.’

Will leant forward, closer up in Max’s face than he’d ever been, and whispered between breaths: ‘Someone tried to break in – the fence is down.’

Pure fear passed across Max’s expression very quickly, loosening his mouth and untying the focused lines around his eyes. Then it was past, and he was himself and saying, ‘Where?’

‘Outside. I can show you.’

They were still almost intimately close and an understanding was communicated between them. Will knew he’d gone to the right person.

Max said, ‘Wait here,’ and strode towards the Editor’s office in the same state of preternatural calm that he inhabited on deadline. Will and Rosie were left breathless, perspiring and oddly unhurried as the Beast whirled to confront this attack on its flank. Rosie wiped a few strands of hair that had become stuck to her temple. In the hollow at the base of her neck, Will could see the skin beating.