‘They’ve got guards watching me, Martin. I mean, they watch me all the time. I can’t stand it. They said I could leave soon, but I think they’re planning something, God knows what. Please, come and get me, Martin. I want out of here.’

‘Okay, Paul, just hang on. I’m coming. It’ll take an hour, maybe a bit longer. Just keep calm. Okay?’

‘Okay. But hurry, please.’

‘Paul, I know there isn’t any Dr McGill. They never did take you to hospital, did they? And you didn’t become ill. Isn’t that right?’

Vincent sighed loudly. ‘Yes. They said they were security. I was on my break. They asked me to go with them. They brought me straight here. I drank some tea and the next thing I knew I’d crashed out for a solid day.’

‘Drugs?’

‘They wouldn’t admit it, but I get the feeling they’d been questioning me during that time. The bastards won’t admit anything.’

‘You mean the staff?’

‘Not all of them. No, these were other people. People brought in by Villiers.’

‘With Fagin’s knowledge?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Okay, Paul. Hang in there. I’m on my way.’

‘Thanks, Martin.’

Hepton pulled on a pair of denims and a T-shirt, hardly aware of what he was doing. He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his jacket, then took a last quick look around and left the flat, pausing to check that the lock had connected and to turn the key in the mortise. He didn’t believe Harry’s story of finding the door ajar. He had spent over an hour checking for bugging devices that she might have left behind. He hadn’t found any, but that didn’t mean anything. There were many other possible points of entry into a closed environment or a telephone line: no one knew better than he what technology was capable of.

Shit, if they were listening in on his telephone, they would already know about Paul. He had to hurry.

Outside, he glanced around as he unlocked the door to his Renault. He crouched beside each wheel arch and peered beneath the vehicle, running a hand around the body in search of a tracking device. Nothing. No black Sierra parked in sight. No tramps picking fruit off the ground. He got into the car, fired it up and sped down the cobblestoned street. He started to think about Paul Vincent, and the line of thought led him back to Zephyr. How often did Fagin entertain bigwigs? Three, maybe four times in a year? A large coincidence then that he should have one such party in tow on the day Zephyr chose to blow a fuse. Hepton smiled grimly at this, remembering how he had once used the phrase ‘blow a fuse’ when talking with Jilly about the satellite.