And now I’ve decided, I’m walking with purpose, my intention to get into the Stang and drive away from all this, dive headlong into the fear, start living my new life outside the police. Up ahead a postman turns into the street pushing a mail trolley. The idea comes out of nowhere and before I can stop myself I’ve pivoted round back towards the building. Standing by the mailboxes I time it perfectly, dropping my keys just as the postman opens the door. I pick the keys up and pretend-hunt for one, before advancing the smallest key I have towards box number twenty.

‘Here you go, mate. Twenty, yeah?’

I turn, look surprised, then grateful.

‘Thanks,’ I tell him as he hands me a couple of letters, delivers the rest and heads out.

Back at the Stang I find it’s surrounded by kids. The reason, I see as I get closer, is Kush. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, chewing the top of the wheel. The kids are loving this; at least two of them have got their phones out and are filming it. YouTube fame at last. It’ll probably go viral and have five million views by the end of the day. I guess I’d need to own it, though, to get the ad revenues. Maybe I should confiscate their phones.

I settle for disbanding them and get in, ignoring Kush and turning to the letters instead. The first two are circulars, but the third is a credit card statement. I scan through it; it’s mostly small purchases, until on page three there’s a payment for nearly two thousand euros. I check the date: a week and a half ago. Ties in with the last-minute holiday story. And yet … That’s a lot of money to pay for a holiday if you’re not going abroad. It’s also a lot of money for someone working shifts at the docks.

I stare at the paper a little longer, before folding it up and starting the engine. As I pull away I wonder why I’m feeling so uneasy all of a sudden. I pull over and get Roemers on the phone. He answers on the third ring.

‘What now?’

‘I need you to check something for me.’

The six towers of Bijlmerbajes prison stand stark against the sky. Built in the late seventies the blocks look more like social housing than a prison complex. They’re mostly empty now, and by next year the whole complex will be closed, refurbished, then reopened as a refugee centre. Welcome to the Netherlands.