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‘What time is it?’ asks Evie, without opening her eyes.

‘Almost seven.’

‘When can we go home?’

‘Soon. Florence is coming.’

Sarcastically, ‘You make her sound like a superhero.’

‘Be nice.’

‘What if she takes you away from me?’

‘She won’t.’

A fresh-faced constable brings us coffee and tea. He’s young and new to the job and he doesn’t know whether to treat us as suspects or witnesses. Later, he escorts Evie to the Ladies and waits outside. ‘I had to run the taps,’ she says afterwards, annoyed at being so closely chaperoned.

Ogilvy enters at nine, looking showered, shaved and rested. A torn piece of toilet paper is sticking to a bloody spot on his neck.

‘Your lawyer is here,’ he says. ‘I can’t tell if she’s modelling for Ducati or the real deal.’

‘She’s the real deal.’

‘Lucky you.’

Florence steps around him, ignoring his comment. Her motorcycle leathers are stained with road grime and splattered with bugs. She has ridden through the night to be here.

‘I’d like to be alone with my clients,’ she says.

Ogilvy leaves reluctantly, his gaze lingering as the door closes.

Florence motions me to the far side of the conference room, away from Evie. Her fingers brush the back of my hand, and she pecks me on the lips. Not very professional but welcomed.

‘Did Finn Radford make any admissions?’ she asks.

‘He admitted to smuggling. That’s how he got the gun.’

‘That’s not enough.’

‘Evie was there. She was on board the Arianna II.’

‘Nobody is going to trust the memories she had as a child.’

‘We can get more evidence,’ I say, but can’t think how. The Arianna II sank in deep water. Even if we could locate the wreckage, what would be left after twelve years?

‘What have you told the police?’ asks Florence.

‘I told them that Angus Radford and his brothers were involved in human trafficking.’

‘Did you identify Evie?’

‘They know.’

‘Well, my advice is to say nothing more. This is bigger than the local police. You should talk directly to the National Crime Agency or to Border Force.’

A knock on the door. Ogilvy again. ‘You’ve had your twenty minutes,’ he says.

We all stand. He points at me. ‘Stay here. I’m interviewing you separately. Miss Cormac is first.’

I begin to protest, but Florence stops me. ‘I’ll take care of her.’