“And this would be money, wouldn’t it, John?”

“Yes.”

“Because it always comes down to money with a certain type of citizen.”

John couldn’t immediately tell whether the type in question was Benny or himself. He supposed, though, that it didn’t really matter in the circumstances.

What Benny had suggested was that they arrive at a little understanding. The understanding would be in the nature of fifty quid a month, payable the day after Benny’s monthly stipend reached his bank account.

“I’m getting paid to keep quiet, when it comes down to it,” Benny had said. “And now you’re being paid for exactly the same thing. And this way I get to keep my privacy intact. More secure, see? And as you’re in charge of my welfare, that should suit you down to the ground.”

“I’m supposed to file a report.”

“Well, there’s nothing to stop you doing that, is there? I mean, how detailed do these reports get?”

Details, well. John had details down to a fine art. “Nothing to report” was a not uncommon entry.

“Can’t stand here all day, John.”

And so he’d said yes, and that was how it started, and pretty much how it finished too. Going to need your bank details, John. Not like I’ll be turning up on your doorstep once a month with the cash. Whole idea is, I get to do my own thing here.

Edward was shaking his head in disbelief by the time it got to this part. “John Bachelor,” he said. “John Bachelor. You would have lasted exactly two seconds in the field. Any field. Walk into a fucking cornfield, you’d last two seconds.”

Richard spoke for the first time. “He made one payment only, didn’t he?”

John nodded, then remembered his instructions. “Yes.”

“And then you were on record as having received money from him, and after that he didn’t have to pay you sod all.”

“The art of the bribe, John,” Edward said. “Once you’ve made your catch, you can keep the rest of the bait for yourself. And you’re telling us you’ve had no contact with Benny Manors since?”

“. . . That’s right.”

Another sigh.

He could hear traffic building up; cars and taxis ferrying people to their places of work. The cafés up and down the High Street would be welcoming breakfast customers, and the homeless in the doorways would be stirring, knowing they’d be moved on soon. The day, which was going to be a hot one, was starting to flex its muscles. John had forgotten what he’d had planned for the day ahead. Everything looked different now.

Edward was staring at him, and he had the sense that there was unspoken communication going on between him and Richard. As if they were checking cues, awaiting a prompt. Whether it arrived John couldn’t tell, but Edward began talking at last, and it went on for a while.