Left alone, which in many ways was her favourite state, Wada sank gratefully into bed. It seemed an age since she’d slept on her futon at home in Tokyo. She wondered when she might sleep on it again. She also thought about the likelihood – the certainty in her view – that Morrisette wouldn’t receive the assurances from Nishizaki she was expecting. She rehearsed the arguments she’d use in favour of involving Holgate’s Guardian contact. She speculated to herself about how best to handle the situation from that point on.

But before her speculations had progressed very far, she was asleep.

Tuesday morning came. For Kate that meant a return to work. But Nick had one more day of leisure ahead of him. After seeing her off and clearing up after breakfast, he walked up through Greenwich Park to Blackheath, where he stopped for coffee and considered pressing on to Catford to see April. In the end, he thought better of it and wandered home.

As he headed along Greenwich Park Street, he saw there was a van parked outside their house, with a hose trailing out of the half-open rear doors. A man in a boiler-suit and baseball cap holding a brush attachment for the hose was gazing up at the windows.

He was a window-cleaner. But he wasn’t their window-cleaner, who’d been less than a week before.

‘Can I help you?’ Nick asked as he came alongside the van.

The man turned towards him. ‘Yeah, mate. I just rang your bell. But I’m beginning to think we’ve got the wrong address. Is this Greenwich Park Terrace?’

‘No. Greenwich Park Street. I’m not sure there is a—’

A shadow darted across the pavement as the side door of the van slid open and a second man jumped out, colliding with Nick and grasping him by the shoulder.

‘What the—’

Something was pressed against the side of his neck. He felt a sharp stabbing sensation.

And almost immediately he felt nothing at all.

When Wada woke, she was surprised by how late it was. Evidently she really had been exhausted. The house was silent. She packed her few belongings into her shoulder bag and went down to the kitchen, passing the open door of Morrisette’s bedroom on the way. The room was empty.

Down in the kitchen there was a Post-it note waiting for Wada on a cupboard door. Gone for a run. M.

Wada decided to make some tea. As she waited for the kettle to come to the boil, she heard the front door open and close. Morrisette had returned.

‘Lovely morning out there,’ said Morrisette by way of greeting, as she entered the kitchen.

‘Heard anything from Tokyo?’

‘Not yet.’

This came as no surprise to Wada. She looked at the clock. ‘It is past the end of the working day there.’

‘I doubt Nishizaki works set hours. And I know lawyer Shimozuki doesn’t. Have a little faith.’