‘If it’s not, it doesn’t matter. It’s not relevant anyway.’

‘Patrick, if we’re carrying on with this, we’ll have to go all in, both of us.’ Her voice was low, her eyes liquid with intensity. ‘No holding back.’

Face to face, just inches from each other, their breaths audible in the silence of the night, he felt transfixed by her. He mustn’t allow that. He turned away and opened his door. Still in his seat, he looked rigidly ahead, cutting the moment. ‘And you’re saying you’re holding nothing back?’ he murmured.

He jumped out of the car, not awaiting or wanting a reply, and strode around the bonnet as she opened her door and jumped out. They walked in silence to the front door. She waved him inside, introduced him to Tariq and explained his role in the Inquiry. She left the two of them together, wondering what her father would think of her new colleague.

She went up to her room to retrieve her photocopies from the Blackburn folder and handed it to Patrick.

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.

She waited for his car to start and the engine noise to die away.

On the way back to his Brixton flat, Patrick stopped in the Waitrose car park on Balham High Road. He checked the files. There were no other documents. For the moment the threat, it seemed, was contained. The unknown was what else would emerge – and whether Morahan’s source would dry up now that he was dead. If there was more to come, he assumed it would be routed to Sara.

She was right. To keep going, they would have to tell each other everything – almost. That was the catch – if no further evidence or documents did emerge, there was no need, from his point of view, to open the can. It might all blow over. The question, after the two events of the past seven hours, was whether that was the outcome he now wanted – or they should be allowed to have.

‘What’s happened?’ asked Tariq as Patrick shut the front door.

Sara gave her father the headlines in as brief and understated a way as she could. He asked no questions, seeing she just needed to bury herself away. Blessing him for it and hugging him goodnight, she rushed up to her bedroom.

She sat down at her desk, retrieved the envelope, unfolded it and took out the contents. She placed Sayyid’s note beside the print-out of her profile and stared at it.

This is the person you must recruit as your investigator. She has special knowledge and a connection which I will make clear to you when I know that you have recruited her. At that time, I will also give you a final folder of material.

Please trust me when I say that this investigation is vital for preserving this nation as a law-abiding, accountable democracy.

Sayyid.