‘I’m in semi-retirement. I told you last night.’

‘You’re still a cop. Is this car a police vehicle?’

‘That is how it is registered. I don’t own it, but I have exclusive use of it.’

She suddenly produced a slim leather wallet, with a warrant card visible in the front. She held it up so I could see it, but she whipped it away before I could learn anything from it.

‘Let me see that again,’ I said.

‘That is your inalienable right as a citizen.’ She intoned the familiar words, spoken in TV crime shows every week. They momentarily chilled me.

The warrant reappeared in her hand. She held it so I could read it properly. Her photographic image was a hologram. Her name was Commissioner Frejah Harsent. She was a detective in the Transgression Investigation Department, Dearth Seignioral Police.

‘So you are a cop,’ I said.

‘Only on intermittent duty.’

‘Are you on duty now?’

‘Yes and no. Yes, because I’m investigating an open case. No, because at the moment I’m giving you a ride to Tristcontenta Hub.’

‘Me being the 6/17 you’re with?’

‘You know what that means, or did you work it out?’

‘I worked it out. Is giving a ride to a 6/17 disallowed by the police?’

‘I am the police on this island.’

‘Commissioner’s a high rank on Salay,’ I said.

‘It’s the same here.’

‘You can’t be the only commissioner.’

‘No – of course not. There are five of us. We share responsibility across the island. But I am the senior commissioner. I report direct to the seignior’s office. The other four report to me.’

‘And that’s how you were given this car.’

‘The force gives you nothing,’ she said. ‘I had to argue for it for more than a year.’

She was overtaking an articulated truck as she said this. There was a turn ahead, from which an oncoming lorry suddenly appeared. Frejah put on a burst of speed, the car accelerating like a rocket opening up, and we slipped back to safety with a margin. The corner the truck had appeared from proved to be a sharp right hand turn lacking a protective crash barrier, with a drop below. The car negotiated the corner at high speed. My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands.

When I could breathe again, I said: ‘Frejah – Commissioner. There’s ice on the road.’

‘We agreed. Call me by my first name. I’m not on duty when I’m with you.’

‘OK, but the ice—’

‘This car has the best anti-skid system ever devised. I know what I’m doing, because the people who built this car knew what they were doing. You want me to slow down?’

‘Maybe a little, maybe not,’ I said, because in spite of the frequent moments of hair-raising terror I was thrilled by her skilful driving, and the performance of the car. ‘Do what’s best.’