‘I’m sorry about your mother, more sorry than you can know, but I’m done with this, understand?’ Milligan turned around and started to go back the way they’d come. When Silva took a step after him he held up his hands. ‘Let it go, Rebecca. For your own good. Your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to pursue this at the cost of the lives of the people she loved.’

Milligan trotted off into the trees, dodged through a gap in a tall box hedge and was gone.

Outside the sun was brighter than ever and Holm squinted against the glare. His headache had subsided, but the last thing he wanted to be doing was chasing after Javed.

‘What’s this about?’ Holm stepped across the pavement. Javed was indicating the park over the road, so they crossed and went in.

‘You thought this was Taher, right?’ Javed began to stroll up a path that curved round a kids’ playground. ‘Directly involved or behind the scenes, but ultimately responsible?’

‘Yes.’ Holm glanced over to where a toddler had tripped and taken a face plant. His dad was trying to console the little boy. ‘Even if nobody believes me.’

‘I didn’t say that. I said nobody else believes you.’

‘So you do think it was Taher?’

Javed turned his attention to a pair of pigeons crossing the path ahead. He stopped and watched as they squabbled over a discarded burger.

‘Well?’ Holm was running out of patience. He began to walk on. ‘Do you?’

‘Here.’ Javed pulled out his phone and thrust it at Holm. ‘I’ve got a Twitter account. Personal. I don’t use it for much though. The occasional message to friends, plus I like to follow some footie stuff. Arsenal mostly.’

Holm raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t imagine Javed as a football fan. ‘So?’

‘This was posted last night. It was to me and about half a dozen other Gunners fans, but when you read the message you’ll see the other recipients were just a blind.’

Holm peered down at the phone. The tweet was in Arabic and he struggled to get beyond one or two words.

‘A football fan who communicates in Arabic. So what?’

‘I’ll translate, shall I?’ Javed smiled. ‘The innocent one wakes. He seeks to avenge the wrongs which have been done. He shall punish the transgressors but others will fall as well. Women and children and babes in arms. Who can say if this is justice? Who will listen to my voice? Who will stop this madness?’

Holm stopped in his tracks. ‘Say the first bit again.’

‘The innocent one. That’s what the name Taher means, isn’t it? Innocent, pure, clean, chaste.’