After walking back to Porthtowan, Nick drove round to RAF Portreath’s main entrance on the inland side of the site. From there he had a closer view of the buildings he’d already seen at a distance. There was a guard post and a camera-monitored gate as well. That was all. Nancekuke’s present wasn’t much like its past.

If only he could go back in time to that June evening in 1977 and follow Peter Ellery and Alison Parker after they left Martin Caldwell on Porthtowan beach and climbed the path he’d climbed himself that morning, he’d know. He’d understand. Barring that, there was only one way to find out what had happened.

He had to find the man who knew. His father. And ask him.

Half an hour later, he was on the A30, heading east, towards London, and the start of his search.

Haruto returned to work after his sushi lunch with Wada. She’d be gone from his apartment by the time he returned there that evening, so there was an unspoken poignancy to their goodbyes as they parted outside Nomura’s Worldwide Plaza HQ.

From there Wada walked out on to Fifth Avenue and wandered slowly north, towards Central Park. She sensed, amidst the tumult of traffic and bustling pedestrians, the security of utter inconspicuousness. One small, solitary, middle-aged Japanese woman making her way along the streets of New York. No one would have thought she was in a hurry. No one would have thought she had any bold or hazardous intentions. No one would have thought anything about her at all.

And that was how she liked it.

ELEVEN

IT WAS A long and wearying drive to london from cornwall through the Friday afternoon traffic. Nick reached Catford as a chill dusk was setting in. He’d worried April might be out, but there were lights on in the house, so it looked as if he was in luck. Which was unlucky for April. She had questions to answer. And Nick meant to ask them.

‘Nicky,’ she almost sang as she opened the door to him. ‘You should have let me know you were coming.’

‘I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’

‘No.’ She frowned slightly. ‘But I’m going out soon.’

‘Got a date?’

‘Since you ask, yes.’

‘Nan?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That’s nice for you.’

‘But there’s time for a quick drink. Do you want a beer? Or a glass of wine?’

‘No thanks.’

They were in the kitchen by now. April swung the door of the fridge open, lifted out a bottle of white wine and poured herself a glass. She waggled the bottle invitingly at Nick. ‘Sure?’

‘Nothing for me, thanks.’

‘OK.’ She put the bottle back in the fridge and took a sip of wine. ‘How are things?’

‘Things?’

‘You don’t seem quite your normal self, Nicky. What’s wrong?’

‘Quite a lot, April, actually. Quite a fucking lot.’