If he’d made contact with one of his junkie mates, that was a nuisance, but not a disaster. If he’d been coerced by one of Malky’s mob . . .

But the nurse said he wasn’t distressed when he left, McNab reminded himself. And he’d been pretty late arriving. Maybe Harry thought he’d given up on him. Or maybe he simply needed a fix of his drug of choice.

Having hated the idea of housing Harry at Ellie’s even for a week, McNab found himself now wishing he had been quicker off his mark this morning and was currently installing Harry at her flat.

Ollie looked flustered as McNab appeared on his horizon and quickly pulled up a chair beside him.

‘Sorry, no time to go to the canteen first,’ McNab said, having arrived minus the usual offering of a burger or a sticky bun.

‘You’ve only just called me,’ Ollie said, obviously more freaked by that than the lack of a snack.

‘So?’ McNab demanded.

‘I’ve talked with security at the Death Star and they said they’d send the recordings through but nothing’s arrived yet.’

‘And the number I gave you?’ McNab tried.

Ollie’s face brightened a little. ‘I think I might have something on that. You said your guy was a former soldier?’

‘Yes,’ McNab said. ‘Why?’

‘Well, service numbers are eight digits long.’

McNab absorbed this. ‘Why would Harry leave his service number in the discharge book? Are you sure it’s not a phone number or a bank number?’

‘Maybe it’s not his service number,’ Ollie said, seemingly growing exasperated. ‘Maybe it’s someone else’s service number he wanted you to have?’

Now there was a thought.

‘You don’t remember Harry’s number?’ Ollie tried. ‘You said you found his dog tag?’

McNab recalled that night in the alley, the jangle of the metal dog tag lying in Harry’s blood. He remembered wiping it and the realization of what it was and that the details on it belonged to the poor bastard bleeding to death before him. ‘No, I don’t remember his bloody number.’

Ollie nodded in a placating manner. ‘Okay, I’ll check the number he left in the book against online army records. If it’s a currently serving soldier, though, that’ll be more difficult. They’re secure. We would need a directive from above to do that.’

‘Right,’ McNab conceded. ‘Let’s try.’

Then, picking up the waves of impatience coming from Ollie, he decided it was time to go, empty-handed or not.

In a last-ditch attempt at being ahead of the game before engaging with the boss, he called Janice from the corridor.

‘Where are you?’ she said, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.

‘In the station. Why, what’s up?’

‘Meet me in the cafeteria now.’