‘What?’ He’s still standing in the middle of the floor, barefoot and confused.

‘The camera footage from the inside of the van. Where is it?’

He glares at her. ‘I don’t know. I told the police the same thing. Just… give me a moment.’ He picks up a pile of clothing from the nearest chair and goes into the bathroom.

Sophie sighs. While he’s gone, she busies herself moving the dirty plates into an orderly pile on one tray, then clears a chair to sit on. There’s a knock on the door, and Sophie looks towards the bathroom.

‘Answer it,’ comes the voice. ‘It’s room service.’

A smartly dressed man waits on the other side, a selection of plates arranged on the trolley. ‘Where do you want it, madam?’ he asks, and she points inside.

Sophie hastily clears the table, the breakfast is placed neatly down and the man is dispatched, dirty plates in hand.

Justin emerges from the bathroom, now fully dressed, hair combed and tied back into a ponytail. He sits down in front of the food, and Sophie does the same, opposite him.

It’s quite a spread – a full English, toast, croissants, coffee and two mugs. Sophie pours herself a coffee without asking.

‘You’re not exactly starving then,’ she remarks.

‘Got to make the most of it while I can,’ he mumbles through a mouthful of fried egg. ‘Going to be out of a job soon. Storm Chasers is hardly going to continue without its star,’ he adds bitterly.

‘Where’s the footage, Justin?’ Sophie repeats.

He sighs. ‘I don’t know. There were two cameras in the van – one mounted in the top-left corner, filming the interior, and a Sony FS5 that Simon would use for close-up interviews.’ He puts his fork down and picks up his mug, taking a sip of the black coffee. ‘Both cameras upload via satellite to NAS – network attached storage,’ he adds in response to Sophie’s blank expression. ‘And that NAS was set up to back up every hour to a server. In this case, the main BBC one back at Reading Uni.’

‘The one in the lab?’

‘Right.’ Justin reaches over his breakfast to his bag on the floor and pulls out a page of numbers and letters, putting it in front of her. ‘This is the read-out from the NAS. It shows that backup was working – see here, that’s the name of the BBC server – but there’s nothing there.’

‘The file’s been deleted?’ Sophie says, shocked.

Justin frowns. ‘That’s my best guess, yes. All the data from the Doppler is there, but the folder where the footage should have been stored is empty.’

‘What about the original files on the… the network thingy?’

‘The NAS. That’s gone, too.’

‘So who deleted it?’

‘I don’t know. Could have been anyone with access to the server.’

‘It’s not very secure, is it?’