Gabriel could think of nothing meaningful to say, nothing to offer comfort to this angry, terrified, devastated child.

‘We’re trying. We’re trying really hard, Zahra. There’s a sickness out there. It’s rare, we know that. It doesn’t affect many. Most people stand up to it. Most people fight it. And when it gets hold, we do everything we can to stop it, to neutralise and, yes, to make it safe. As safe as we can. Look, let’s meet, let’s talk. I’ll get your details from the liaison officer – we’ve a lot to talk about.’

Zahra nodded and walked off to a man who Gabriel assumed was her father.

Her phone vibrated. It was a message from Tennant. It said simply: Pub?

#

Westminster, London

It was the first time in two years that Tennant had bought Gabriel a drink – the last time had been during the Isobel Harris inquiry. They sat at a round wooden table in the corner of a Sparrow and Goat wine bar.

‘Bloody stupid name for a bar,’ said Gabriel as Tennant handed over a pint of lager. ‘It’s a vegan beer, apparently.’

‘Thanks, boss.’ She paused. ‘What the hell is a vegan beer?’

‘Chris has just become vegan, so sadly I could answer that in full. But I won’t. It’s a bloody pain though. Cheers.’

They clinked their glasses and spent a moment sipping. Gabriel flicked her eyes at the TV on the wall. A news presenter was standing outside Downing Street. The PM’s press conference was already overdue.

‘God, that tastes like badger piss,’ said Tennant. ‘What did you make of the service?’

‘About as good as you’d expect. A nice show of solidarity for the families, a nice photo shoot for the politicians.’

‘They’re not as bad as that, Sophie.’ They drank in silence. Then, ‘How is Abu Mujahid?’

‘Conscious and sulky,’ said Gabriel. ‘Doctors say he will make a full recovery, but he’s not well enough for a full interview yet. Can’t imagine he’ll be that forthcoming once he’s on his feet. But we’ve got enough on him. DNA traces in Rebecca Gladstone’s flat put him at the scene of her murder. His DNA is all over Tanvir Mirza’s dead body. We’ve got him buying and taking ownership of the two drones, the explosives, the flat…’

‘We thought that last time. Don’t get overconfident.’

‘It’s different, boss,’ said Gabriel.

‘Maybe.’ He took another sip and winced. ‘I’m putting you up for something for this, you know. Every sodding medal and commendation I can think of.’

Gabriel reddened.

Tennant said: ‘I was watching the video of the two gunmen outside Wembley. The first, Muhid, was clear-cut. He had the rifle out; he was seconds away from opening fire. But Asad – I’m not so sure.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Gabriel.

‘Watch it again. He had an opportunity to fire. He didn’t. He waited. For about five seconds. He only put his hand in the bag after he’d been cornered and warned. And he wasn’t in any hurry about that either.’