‘Without a doubt, boss,’ said Gabriel. ‘Fletcher was clearly racially motivated.’

‘And a lone actor?’ There was more earnestness in his voice now. Tennant was generally a good sleeper, who rarely struggled to catch a decent seven hours a night, no matter how stressful the work. But the one issue that could play on his mind at 3am, when the house was still and Chris was gently wheezing in bed beside him, was the rise of a new, violent and organised extreme right.

Gabriel paused before answering. ‘On the surface, yes,’ she said. ‘No live video stream, no social media, and from the early look into his background, no links to extreme right groups.’

Tennant sensed her doubt. ‘But…?’

‘But there’s lots that doesn’t fit the normal pattern. Lone actors usually like to go out with a bang – suicide by cop, or holed up with a hostage. They don’t usually go to ground. And there’s no note.’

‘But nothing to suggest an accomplice, or that he was part of something bigger?’

‘No.’ She hesitated again. ‘But he’s not acting like your normal loner.’

‘Not sure there’s such a thing, Sophie,’ said Tennant. ‘Look – keep me posted and if there’s any developments, anything to suggest this is more than a man with a grudge and a knife, let me know as soon as. And I’m happy to use unofficial channels if you are.’

He hung up. She was a bright officer. Her instincts were good and they’d saved him from humiliation in the past. He returned to his workstation and prepared for COBRA.

#

Eltham, South East London

Rod Houghton sat in the passenger seat of his car and clicked the refresh icon on the laptop. He pressed command and tab and the video-editing app came up, with Fletcher’s face frozen in a grimace. This should have gone online two hours ago, but there was no way he could put it up in its current state.

He slipped the headphones on and reviewed his latest edit.

‘In 1939, our country faced a threat from foreign invaders, determined to destroy the British people and the values that we hold dear – democracy, decency, fairness, pride.’ Fletcher had done this bit well, thought Houghton. ‘Today we face another threat just as great, but unlike 1939, this threat doesn’t come from one country – it comes from one religion. A death cult that would subjugate our women and daughters, and wipe out a millennium of our laws with the laws based on a cruel, medieval faith…’

It went on. Every word carefully chosen by the boss. Every reference to the Muslims and every line vilifying the Jews, the blacks, the gays. Right up until the killer last line. ‘And I’ve done this, I’ve made this ultimate sacrifice, I’ve given my life, in the name of the National Resistance Force.’ A great line but now utterly useless thanks to Fletcher’s cowardice. Houghton felt a stab of frustration.

He went back, playing the video at half-speed, then deleted the line ‘I have given my life’ before playing it again at full speed. Now the jump in picture was obvious and clumsy. Maybe he could use an image to hide the cut? He went to the BBC News coverage of the attack, screen-grabbed a still of the roller coaster and inserted it over the edit. That was better. Not perfect, but enough to go up. The laptop was connected to a burner phone he’d bought for this occasion.