Zack smiled again, the same embittered grin he’d shown before. ‘I told you, I wanted to see him squirm. To watch as his reputation fell apart. I knew all the evidence pointed his way, and I knew that even if you didn’t convict him, the enemies he’d made would. The press, the politicians: all the people who hated him as much as I did.’

Immediately Fleet thought of Webb and Manish Apte. About how smug Webb in particular must have been feeling at the idea that he was the one pulling the strings.

‘But then,’ said Zack, ‘when my father announced the memorial service, I knew this was how it was supposed to end.’ He looked around at the burning building and the crowd watching on below. ‘It’s perfect. Don’t you see? It’s exactly the type of tribute Ben deserves. Not just a remembrance. A reckoning.’

Fleet edged another step closer. ‘Do you really think this is what Ben would have wanted? For you to lose your life as well? Look around you, Zack! If we stay up here much longer, we’re all going to die!’

‘Don’t you get it yet?’ Zack snapped. ‘I don’t care what happens to me! Do you think I would have told you where Ben’s body was if I did? My life was over the minute I told you about the crypt. It was over twenty-two years ago!’

Fleet heard boot-steps on the stairwell below, and when he glanced he saw firefighters on the penultimate flight of steps. They yelled up to him, frantically urging him down.

Zack, meanwhile, had turned back to Richardson, his hand still gripping Richardson’s tie and the knife pointing at his throat.

‘Say it!’ Zack commanded, forcing Richardson forward. ‘The cameras are rolling, Callum. All the eyes of the audience are on you. Admit that you were going to kill him! That Ben only died because of you!’

‘OK!’ Richardson bleated. ‘I admit it! I—’

But that was as far as he got. As he’d started speaking, Zack had withdrawn the knife. Just a fraction – but Richardson must have realised it was the only opportunity he was going to get.

He whipped himself around, and though the knife slashed across his arm, it was obvious he barely felt it. He let out a roar, his rage all at once matching Zack’s. Richardson, though, was taller, and he was able to make his size count. They spun, and suddenly Zack was the one leaning into space, the hand around Richardson’s tie his only tether. In his other hand, he continued to clutch the knife, but Richardson was battling for it, too. They were so fixated on the tussle, neither man appeared to notice how close they were to losing their balance.