‘Glen Bryant called. Hussein wants to see you.’

‘I’ll get back to her.’

‘He said it was urgent.’

‘All right.’

‘Where were you?’

‘I was meeting a contact.’

‘Is there something I should know?’

‘Better not.’

‘Also, a man called Walter Levin came to see you.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘He was a bit vague. I think he was something to do with the Home Office. Grey hair, glasses. Said “super” rather a lot.’

‘I’ve no idea what that would be about.’

‘He left a card.’ Yvette pointed to his desk.

‘I don’t have time for that now.’

Karlsson called Hussein. It was very brief and Yvette watched him until he was finished. ‘I’m going straight over,’ he said, and then he noticed her expression. ‘What?’

‘You’ve cut me out,’ she said.

‘Only for your own good.’

‘She’ll be all right,’ said Yvette. ‘However this turns out.’

‘Are we still talking about Hussein?’

‘This is me,’ said Yvette. ‘Don’t make it into a joke.’

‘I’m not sure she’ll be all right.’

‘What about you?’

‘We’ll see.’

On the car journey over, Karlsson’s head was full of thoughts of what he ought to say, questions he needed to ask. But when he arrived at the station, he wasn’t taken to Hussein’s normal office. Instead, without explanation, the young female officer knocked on the door of a conference room. Then she opened it and stepped aside to allow Karlsson past. There were only two people inside. Right at the far end of the room, at the end of the long table, were DCI Hussein and Commissioner Crawford. So this was what it was all about. As Karlsson closed the door behind him, he felt strangely calm. He walked along the table and sat opposite the two of them. There were a jug of water and glasses on the table. He took one and filled it with water. He looked across the table.

‘No, thank you,’ said Hussein.

The commissioner didn’t reply. Karlsson noticed he was flexing a muscle in his jaw, as if he was forcing himself to remain silent.

Karlsson took a sip from the glass, then placed it carefully on a coaster decorated with the insignia of the Metropolitan Police. A crown on top of a star. A star that looked more like a snowflake. It was like he’d never noticed it before.

‘I’ve just been at the funeral,’ said Hussein. ‘As you know.’

‘Yes.’

There was a pause.

‘I’m expecting you to say something,’ said Hussein.

‘What?’

‘Something like: was Frieda there?’

‘Of course she wasn’t there. I’ve got another question, though.’

‘All right.’

‘Do you seriously believe all of this?’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Hussein.

‘Do you still, having lived with this investigation, believe that Dr Frieda Klein, a qualified doctor, a practising therapist, and a one-time consultant to this police force, murdered her ex-partner, dumped his body in the Thames – oh, and having done that, left a wristband with her own name on it on the body? Do you believe that?’

Karlsson looked at the commissioner. He expected something, a sigh, a snort of derision, but there was nothing. There was a tinge of pink in his cheeks, but that was all. The commissioner looked like a man who had already made up his mind and thought that this meeting was just noises, something he had to sit through.

‘It’s not what I believe,’ said Hussein.

‘Of course it’s what you believe. We’re not machines.’

Hussein shook her head. ‘This feels like my first week at Hendon.’ She banged her fist on the table. ‘You build evidence, you construct a case. If the case isn’t strong enough, then Frieda Klein can defeat it in court. What you don’t do is go on the run. You follow the rules, you obey the law. I’ve been to countries where the police act on their hunches or their personal beliefs and bend the law to fit them. I wouldn’t want to live there. Would you?’

‘This case against Frieda Klein is being pursued by people with a grudge against her.’

‘This isn’t a case against Frieda Klein. When I was put in charge, I’d barely heard of her. And at every stage of the inquiry, if you – or anyone else – had relevant evidence, then I was willing to hear it. You never gave any.’

‘It’s not just that,’ said Karlsson. ‘The inquiry got too focused on Frieda from the beginning.’

‘That’s the thing. All this talk about “Frieda this” and “Frieda that”. It sounds like you’re defending a friend. That’s not the way policing is meant to work.’

‘She didn’t do it. That’s the simple fact.’

‘This is the Frieda Klein you saw in a police cell after an assault in a restaurant. The Frieda Klein who cut a woman’s throat.’

‘Even Hal Bradshaw never said that was anything but self-defence.’

‘Except that Frieda Klein never admitted to it at all. And even now, while on the run from the police, she has become involved in another brawl.’

‘You mean intervening to prevent a crime?’

‘That’s enough,’ said the commissioner. Karlsson knew Crawford as a man with a temper, but now he was speaking quietly. ‘None of this is relevant. Just for the record, I would like to say that DCI Hussein has conducted this investigation in an exemplary manner.’

‘Shall we wait until it’s over, before we say that?’

Now Crawford’s eyes did flash with anger but he didn’t speak for a few seconds. He looked down at a piece of paper on the table in front of him. With one hand, he adjusted it slightly. When he began to speak, it was slowly and distinctly, like a solicitor reading from a legal document.

‘We have heard that you have been interviewing people concerned with the case. Is that true?’

‘Who have you heard from?’

‘Is it true?’

‘I’ve talked to some people I thought might provide information.’

‘Did you receive authority from DCI Hussein?’

‘No.’

‘Did you file a report?’

‘No.’

Crawford picked up a pen and scratched something on his piece of paper. Karlsson could see that he wasn’t making notes but doodling.

‘Just one more question,’ said Crawford. ‘Have you had any contact with Frieda Klein?’

Karlsson took a deep breath. He had been waiting for this moment. After this, there would be no going back.

‘Yes, I have.’

Both Hussein and Crawford started visibly. But when Crawford spoke, it was in the same restrained tone.

‘Have you seen her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can we get this clear?’ said Crawford. ‘Have you been in touch with a fugitive during a police hunt for her?’

‘No, I saw her today.’

‘Did you inform Hussein?’

‘I’m informing her now.’

‘I’m assuming you didn’t take her into custody.’

Karlsson thought for a moment. ‘I didn’t agree with her decision to …’ He paused, searching for the right words. ‘To go it alone.’

‘Go it alone?’ said the commissioner, raising his voice slightly.

‘And I think she’s now in danger from whoever actually did this murder.’

‘Oh, you do, do you?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘You’re suspended, of course. Clearly you’ll be facing disciplinary charges. Now I’ve heard the full extent of your behaviour, I’ll be consulting on the possibility of criminal charges. I don’t need to tell you the consequences of perverting the course of justice.’

Karlsson stood up.

‘I can’t believe you’ve done this, Mal,’ said the commissioner. ‘To yourself. To your colleagues.’

Karlsson reached into his pocket, took out his police badge and tossed it onto the table. ‘I should have done it before,’ he said, and he turned and left the room.