‘Let me check my packed social calendar, but there’s a good chance I’ll be free.’

‘So that’s a yes, then?’

Porter smiled and nodded. He spotted Anderson breaking away from the crowd, making a beeline for his car. ‘Hang on, let me grab Anderson for a sec before he vanishes again.’

He half-walked, half-trotted down the road that led back to the main gate of the cemetery, and was within twenty feet of Anderson when he reached his car.

‘Anderson, you got a second?’

Anderson turned around, keys in hand. Porter saw what looked like a roll of the eyes as he clocked who was chasing after him, but was too far away to be sure.

‘I’m on my way back to the station. Can it wait till then?’

‘It’ll only take a minute.’

Anderson glanced from his car and back to Porter, weighing up his options. Porter slowed his pace, but kept moving towards him, as if closing the distance might sway the decision. Anderson shrugged and relented.

‘Fine, whatever, as long as it’s literally a minute. Places to go, people to see and all that.’

Porter stopped when he drew level with the tail end of the car, and slid his hands into his pockets. He gave Anderson his best ‘we’re on the same side’ smile.

‘Just wondered how it went with Locke yesterday? We didn’t get a chance to talk about it.’

Anderson reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of Marlboro Lights.

‘What do you mean? Jon ran through that with us in the briefing yesterday. Not much more to say other than what he told you, really.’

He shook a cigarette out and placed it in his mouth, fumbling for his lighter with his free hand.

Porter kept his smile in place. ‘We did, but if you remember, he said you guys had to split up for part of it. Said he went for a wander round the warehouse floor while you stayed with Locke and Bolton.’

‘Yep, and?’ Anderson said curtly, the cigarette between his lips now, dancing with every word.

‘And I’m wondering what they had to say for themselves. From what Campbell said yesterday, Locke sounds fairly confident that we’ll find nothing.’

Anderson drew the smoke into his lungs and turned his head a few degrees, firing a smoky dart over the roof of his car. ‘Yep, he certainly does, but if it’s there we’ll find it.’

‘That’s the thing,’ said Porter, taking a step closer. ‘I was thinking about that, thinking about why make the offer. He must be confident there’s nothing to find, at least nothing anywhere we know to look, anyway. Then I got to thinking about Carter, and why he ditched his mic, and how Bolton seemed to have his getaway planned that day.’

‘So what are you saying, then?’