Hepton was asleep on his feet by the time they reached Jilly’s apartment block by the river. He had been expecting, if anything, an old converted warehouse, but in fact the block was of recent design.

‘Mock warehouse,’ Jilly explained.

There was a security system at the main entrance, and each flat had its own little video screen so that callers could be identified before being let in. That might come in handy, Hepton thought to himself.

The flat itself wasn’t huge, though Jilly stated that by London standards it was more spacious than most. The living area was open-plan, with a bedroom and bathroom off it. There was a narrow veranda – not for the nervous – outside the French doors that took up the far wall. And yes, there were views of the Thames, though fairly unsavoury ones. The river itself was a mottled grey colour, and across the water there were gasometers, a stretch of wasteland and not much else.

‘You can see for miles,’ Jilly said. ‘Make yourself at home. I’ll try not to be too long, though parking can be hell itself in town.’

‘Where exactly are you going?’

She tapped the side of her nose. ‘Journalists never reveal their sources, especially before they’ve visited them. It’s bad luck.’ She bent down to give him a peck on the cheek, then closed the door behind her and was gone.

Hepton was surprised. He really didn’t feel anything more than friendship towards her now. When she’d been far away and inaccessible, he had longed for her, but now that they were together again, there wasn’t the same spark. Perhaps Jilly had been right to come to London. Their affair would have fizzled out in any case, wouldn’t it? Better to make a clean break. He lay along the sofa and closed his eyes, not intending to sleep. He just wanted to rest …

He awoke to the sound of a purring telephone. He hadn’t been asleep long, and felt light-headed, disoriented. He reached for the receiver and picked it up.

‘Hello?’ he said.

There was a silence on the other end, a crackling of wires, and perhaps, in the background, someone’s fluttering breath.

‘Hello?’ he said again. Still nothing. Then a short laugh.

‘You’ve been a very bad boy, Martin.’

Hepton felt his fingers tighten around the receiver.

‘Hello, Harry,’ he said. The light-headedness left him. He was wide awake now. ‘How was Leeds?’

There was that laugh again, laughter lacking humour but filled instead with cruelty. ‘Leeds was a clever idea, Martin. I couldn’t think why you’d be going there. Then I realised you’d found my little device.’

‘How did you track me down?’ Not that he was really interested, but he needed time to think.

‘I spoke to your employer. He told me how depressed you’d been when your girlfriend moved to London. I thought it was worth a try.’