‘There are some who would like one – too many prominent names involved – but there are plenty in the Met willing to fight that, just like in Police Scotland. Despite the cries from the government about national security.’

‘And Cleverly?’ McNab said.

‘I gather you two have history?’ When McNab didn’t answer, Jack said, ‘I have no reason as yet to doubt him.’

McNab thought of his glimpse of Cleverly before his abduction and wasn’t convinced. He changed the subject.

‘By the way. Who’s Lily Peony?’

Jack made a strangled sound. ‘How the fuck . . .’

‘You popped up on her Instagram account. In the background of her photo.’

‘Well, I never got any nearer to her than that.’

McNab decided it was time to spring his news. ‘We have footage of the killer from the Orlova,’ he said. ‘The posh fucker’s going down. He and Olivia Newton Richardson, I hope.’

There was a sigh of pleasure.

‘His name’s Hugo Radcliff. And I hope you’re right. He’s a number-one bastard. He was the one in charge of your interrogation. Not me.’ There was an apology in his voice.

‘Any idea why he killed Damian Charles Lloyd and his girlfriend?’

‘I didn’t know he was the killer until you told me.’

When he started coughing, McNab decided he’d asked him enough questions.

‘Okay, Jack Winters, now I plan to get you out of here,’ McNab said, hoping Winters would stay alive long enough to accomplish that.

‘Good luck with that.’ Groaning, he lay back down. ‘But don’t hang about on my account.’

McNab’s mobile had gone, of course, but he still had his watch, whose illuminated dial told him he’d last seen Firash at least an hour ago.

He decided to try and locate the door. If, as he believed, he was in the same location as last time, and the door was unlocked, then they had a route out. Rising, he stuck out his right hand and walked in a straight line until he met a wall.

The last time, they’d hung him up directly opposite the door. He remembered the long shaft of light culminating at him, whenever that door was opened. Chances were they’d put Jack in the same location. If so, then the exit should be a little to the right or left of where he now stood.

He was still feeling for it when he heard the sound of someone approaching. He stopped and listened. It was said that a remembered smell was the biggest factor in revisiting trauma. That had been obvious when he’d come to, in here. But he’d heard the distinctive sound of those footsteps in that corridor before. After which his tormentors would enter to do the posh fucker’s bidding.