Then a hand reached for the blonde’s ponytail, to pull it back. Confusion broke out. The girls started shrieking and tried to run. Hands grabbed at them, blocked them. One of the men flicked a large black cloth out of a bag. The blonde tried to twist away from it, but was still held by the ponytail and a hand caught her shoulder while another, missing, hit her in the face. Through the viewfinder Paul saw her features contort. Grabbed and held, she began to wail as the black burqa was pulled over her head. And before it swallowed her up, Paul’s camera caught spreading below her nose an unmistakeable spill of blood. The shutter clicked rapidly. Paul felt the tingle of a great shot.

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‘One for the Dramatic Shootout with Mian and Choudry – briefly, because it’s been everywhere since lunchtime – then a single column about the use of deadly force by the police.’ The Editor lettered ‘splash’, ‘shootout’ and ‘deadly force’.

Max asked, ‘Do we know what the line’s going to be?’

The chief said, ‘What do you expect? Boohoo, the poor old terrorists got shot?’

The Editor asked, ‘Have you seen the copy?’

‘It’s a comment piece from one of the cops who shot that Brazilian a few years ago: tragic necessity; terrible for the cops involved.’

Glancing at the Editor to make sure he was watching, Max contradicted the chief, ‘Shouldn’t we reconstruct it as a news piece? “The prime minister last night offered his support to officers”, etcetera, using the quotes from our man further down.’

Before the chief could speak, the Editor said, ‘Yes, make it news. There’s too much comment in these pages anyway. Terror’s the subject of the op-ed as well. Aston’s writing it now.’

Geraldine was impressed. ‘The PM?’

The Editor nodded dismissively, thinking of other pages. Every PM made at minimum an accommodation with the Beast, and Aston struck him as a self-involved little boy. The only person he mentally referred to as ‘the prime minister’ was Churchill. ‘Yes, Aston’s going to say that they can only beat us by dividing us, then go on to free speech and unity in the global struggle against Islamism; and the payoff line is going to be, “Today, we are all Beast readers.”’

‘Are you going to tell him about this bus?’

‘Certainly not. Who knows what that autist might do. Next spread, four–five, the Met’s Terror Hunt. A map with graphics and snippets about sightings, arrests, where our forces are distributed. Then six–seven, the newspaper man horribly burnt alive and next to it the Great Muslim Debate: our foremost thinkers on what do we do about Islam. Geraldine, who do we have so far?’