‘Let’s say for a moment that everything presented here was the work of one individual. They’d set up an experiment in their own house, advertised for volunteers, made them all sign disclaimers and then administered a compound which, although it had been designed as a cure for a specific disease, killed half of them, would we have a case?’ I’d asked. Not because I didn’t know the answer, but sometimes in the face of the insurmountable the only thing we have are questions.

Yes, she’d confirmed, in that scenario we would have a case. But with a company as large as DH Biotech we wouldn’t stand a chance.

So there it is, one law for the people, quite another for companies with large enough reserves.

Kush has finished his food and is looking for more, sniffing round the kitchen just on the off-chance that I’ve somehow left another couple of full bowls around. The day stretches out ahead of me. There are so many things I could do it’s almost overwhelming. I eventually decide on a drive. Kush snaps to attention when I grab the Stang’s keys out of the bowl on the kitchen work surface, and soon we’re heading out of the city towards the coast.

We’ve taken to walks on the beach at Zandvoort, for me to feel the air on my face and watch the ever-shifting muted colours of the North Sea, for Kush to run around and bark at the seagulls. He’s quite far ahead of me when I notice him stop dead. He sniffs something, then tentatively puts a paw onto whatever it is that has caught his attention. He paws it a few more times, then, with a swiftness that is startling, dives onto it, rubbing his neck and shoulder along the ground. As I get close he’s still at it, though now he’s moved onto his back and is wriggling around, paws in the air, tongue hanging loose, a kind of ecstasy in his eyes. Once he’s done I glimpse what he’s just rolled in: the rotting carcass of a seagull.

I text Vermeer back.

The phone rings as soon as I pocket it. Jansen.

‘There’s something you should see.’

The white van had skidded off the road and nosedived into the ditch, back wheels aloft. I park up and a uniform lifts the red and white tape for me to duck under. Jansen’s talking to someone on his phone, so I take a closer look at the van. It’s just a white van, nothing special about it. And yet I get the feeling I’ve seen it before.

‘Vermeer reckoned you’d want to see this.’ I turn to see Jansen.