‘When it first … when we had the first … fatality …’ He glanced up at her; she was staring back, unflinching. ‘Well, we had no idea what was happening. We started studying the pouch that had gone wrong. There had been no sign, you see. There was no problem in the monthly check-ups – we’re very thorough, I promise you – but there was no indication that anything was …’

‘You’ve known for years?

‘We thought we could fix it,’ he said. ‘We thought it was an isolated incident. It could have been anything …’

‘And then?’

‘It happened again, about a year later.’

‘Jesus.’

‘There haven’t been many. I promise, if I’d thought … if it was a significant risk …’

‘It seems like a pretty significant risk now,’ she said. Her anger made her words clipped and pointed.

‘It’s getting worse,’ he said. ‘The number of cases is increasing. There have been three this year. I don’t know why. We can’t find anything to link them.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There must be a common factor … We thought at first it was something physically to do with the pouches. A malfunction, in just a few.’

‘But it’s not.’

‘I don’t think so. It’s not about the age of the pouch, the style … I mean, the first three deaths were all from used pouches. Parents who couldn’t afford … So we thought maybe …’

‘It’s not that either?’

James shook his head. ‘And it’s not the parents … I mean, it doesn’t seem to be environmental …’

‘You thought they were doing it themselves?’

He closed his eyes for a second. ‘We’ve looked into pouch abuse. But it’s not that, I’m certain … And besides, there are too many cases now.’

‘And the Bhattacharyya family are high profile. With a top-of-the-range pouch, I would imagine.’

He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted this to be over. And he wanted to understand why it was happening. What had he done wrong? What had they done wrong? He’d always believed they were doing the right thing.

‘Why didn’t you tell anyone?’

‘Like who?’

‘Anyone! Another scientist …’

‘The lab knows,’ he said. ‘The directors too.’

‘A reporter then.’

‘I don’t like reporters,’ he said. ‘They make me nervous.’

She laughed, angrily.

‘No one … No one asked me, anyway,’ he said. ‘No reporters came to me. No one questioned me. No one’s ever even heard of me. I was trying to fix it, that’s all. I thought I could fix it before …’

‘You’re going to talk to the press now,’ she said, standing up. ‘You’re going to tell them everything. I want proof, too.’

‘What?’

‘Lab reports. Photographs.’

He gaped at her, horrified.

‘Get everything you can. You’re going to meet me again tomorrow, with a reporter.’