‘It might be good for Aidan to see Smith face to face,’ said Charlie. ‘To tell him the truth and ask him to tell the truth. Look where lies and avoidance have got him. Ruth Bussey’s certainly in favour of having everything out in the open—he might listen to her, even if he’s reluctant at first. Why don’t we explain the problem to Aidan instead of trying to protect him as if he’s a kid?’

‘And if he can’t talk Smith into telling the truth? Then he feels like a failure on top of everything else he’s had to go through, and it’s our fault.’

‘I think it’s a reasonable idea,’ said Proust. He’d avoided the word ‘good’, reluctant to pollute Kombothekra’s mind with praise. ‘Don’t worry, Waterhouse. It won’t be down to you to do the persuading. I think Sergeant Zailer might manage that without your clodhopping assistance.’

‘I don’t work for you any more, sir. I work for—’

‘No,’ said Simon. ‘If it’s got to be done, I’ll do it. I know I’m not . . .’ He paused.

‘The list is endless, isn’t it?’ said Proust. ‘The list of what you’re not. Top of it is this: you’re not going to be concerning yourself with Aidan Seed from hereon in.’ Proust opened his desk drawer, pulled out what looked like a large book. Except it wasn’t. It was . . . oh, shit, it couldn’t be . . .

‘Yes, Waterhouse. Brand new, with shiny cover and unbroken spine. The Automobile Association’s latest road atlas of Great Britain. I bought it with a ten-pound note I found in the bin by the photocopier shortly after our last tête-à-tête.’

‘Sir, you can’t . . .’

‘There are two categories of people in this world, Waterhouse: those who admit to the mistakes they’ve made and attempt to compensate, and those who correct them retrospectively in their own minds by pretending they never happened. If something succeeds, they were behind it all the time. If it fails, they never supported it in the first place.’ Proust leaned back and folded his arms across his belly. ‘I like to think I belong in the first category. If I get something wrong, I put my name to it and do my best to atone for my mistake.’

Simon, Charlie and Sam Kombothekra stared at him, dumbfounded.