Charles Wycombe and Mark Somersby were officially the easiest subjects to get talking in all of Platform Eight’s long, bloody history.

Blindfolded and handcuffed and thrown into the back of our van, they remained completely silent the whole drive back to the Platform. Yet as soon as they were alone in separate interrogation rooms they each started talking before Jake and I had even sat down in our respective chairs. Frederick may have told them enough about Platform Eight to be rightly terrified by exactly what we were capable of.

Charles Wycombe blamed it all on his great big castle. It didn’t matter how much money he made at his hedge fund, it wasn’t enough to keep the place running. Breaking the law, betraying your country and getting our agents killed were clearly acceptable collateral when trying to keep the family seat.

Mark Somersby had no excuse other than Frederick had come to him and Charles with what looked like a genius business plan guaranteed to net them each tens of millions. He admitted he hadn’t troubled himself with all the details and that yes, it probably was ‘terribly out of order’, but when he saw the margins it was impossible to say no.

Jake escorted Mark to his St James’s office to retrieve his laptop, and with a push of a few buttons the Tenebris Network was taken offline for good and we were given access to their whole server of data. In our possession were the names of everyone who had registered as an Employee, and the bank details and contact details for each organisation who had registered as an Employer. It would take weeks to work through but our Security Services were going to be reaping the benefit of their databases for years.

Cameron arrived back from guarding Miss Jenna and relayed what she had learned from her. I tried to imagine Miss Jenna’s sing-song voice as she detailed just how deeply involved she’d been with such dark people. She had been due to start at the nursery Little Lambs, which Frederick had Florence down for. Due to Dugdale’s insistence that Frederick switch Florence to Yvonne’s so we could use the school run to communicate, they’d had to improvise – by running over a nursery school teacher. It meant a lengthy hospital stay for the unfortunate woman and a panicked Yvonne having to find a last-minute replacement in order to meet health and safety teacher-child ratios. A teacher with a missing qualification was a better option than closure.