‘Some of us have to deal with this shit every day,’ Fletcher said.

Nicklin said, ‘It’s good that I can still surprise you, Tom. It shows that our relationship isn’t going stale.’ He grinned, then shivered; looked up at the darkening sky. ‘So, what do you think? Any chance of going back and getting inside for a while? I’m soaked, and I’m sure you are, and there’s probably some fresh tea and coffee up there by now.’

‘Yeah, let’s get you and Mr Batchelor out of the rain, shall we?’ Thorne said. ‘You might not have a lot of time to dry off, mind you. Apart from Professor Howell and her team, we’re about done here, so I’m going to try and get the boat back to fetch us a bit earlier. See if we can get on the road.’ He looked across at Fletcher and Jenks. ‘Get you all back to the prison in time for dinner.’

Fletcher said, ‘Great,’ though he clearly did not mean it.

‘That’s a shame,’ Nicklin said.

‘Not from where I’m standing,’ Thorne said. He was enjoying the disappointment on Nicklin’s face, in his body language. ‘I’m very happy to get away early.’

‘Can’t we at least wait until the poor old dear’s been taken out of there?’

‘She wasn’t a poor old dear,’ Thorne said. ‘She was fifty-three and she had a name.’

Nicklin acknowledged the perceived lack of sensitivity with a small bow of the head. ‘OK, can we wait until Eileen’s out of there?’

‘Afraid not,’ Thorne said. ‘The governor’s very keen to have you back as soon as possible and, seeing as you’ve done your bit, we can leave it to others to finish the job.’ He glanced across at the grave. ‘Not that you did a lot this time round.’

‘I knew you’d enjoy working it out,’ Nicklin said. ‘That’s why.’ He looked at Bethan Howell and shook his head. ‘I’m very surprised she beat you to it, frankly.’

But Thorne was only half listening, having spotted the warden marching purposefully down towards him from the track. Burnham was waving, with what looked like his satellite phone in his hand.

Thorne walked up to meet him.

‘I was on my way to see you.’ Burnham was a little breathless. ‘I’ve just been talking to Huw Morgan.’

‘Perfect timing,’ Thorne said. ‘Can you call him back? I need to see if he can get over here to pick us up any earlier.’

Burnham said, ‘Ah,’ and Thorne knew that there was a problem.

‘What?’

‘Well, that’s why he was calling. I’m afraid that Bernard has been taken into hospital.’ He mistook the expression on Thorne’s face for concern. ‘It’s nothing serious. I think he just took a bit of a turn.’

‘That’s good to hear.’

‘It does give you a problem though.’

‘Can’t Huw do it on his own?’

‘It’s a two-man job, I’m afraid,’ Burnham said. ‘You remember how the boat gets brought out of the water?’

Thorne lifted his hands and laced them through his hair. He could feel a headache starting to gather behind his eyes. ‘Can anyone else do it? There must be somebody he can ask.’

‘Not that I know of,’ Burnham said, ‘and I’m sure he’d rather be with his father anyway. But even if there was someone to do it, you’d still be in trouble.’

‘Why?’

‘Because finding someone to make the trip’s neither here nor there. It’s the weather that’s buggering everything up. Huw says it’s not looking too clever.’

‘Yeah, he told me it might be iffy,’ Thorne said, ‘but look.’ He held his arms out, as though Burnham were somehow unaware of the weather conditions around them. ‘It’s only a bit of rain, for God’s sake.’

‘It’s a bit of rain here, but it’s what it’s like on the other side of the mountain that Huw’s worried about. He must have told you that the weather here can be totally different from what it’s like over there, and right now he reckons it’s too dangerous.’

‘Jesus…’

‘Huw knows what he’s talking about, I’m afraid.’ Burnham shook his head, stared down towards the sea. ‘Bardsey Sound is treacherous at the best of times. Well, it’s how the island got its name, of course…’

Once again, Thorne had stopped listening.

He turned round and looked back across the field at the men and women clustered around the freshly dug grave. Whatever anybody else in the group was doing, he knew that Stuart Nicklin was looking right at him. He watched him step across to Batchelor and say something.

Two murderers, one of whom would always be highly dangerous and unpredictable. Two men, who, despite the presence of well-trained prison officers, were his responsibility.

Thorne turned back in time to hear the warden saying something about food from the farm. He nodded, said, ‘Right…’

‘So, fingers crossed Huw can get back for you all first thing in the morning.’

‘Everything crossed,’ Thorne said.

‘We’ll be all right until then, don’t you worry about that.’ Burnham sounded cheery, almost excited. He was clearly someone who relished a crisis and was confident in his own ability to cope with one when it came. ‘There’s plenty of space and I’m sure some of those who stayed on the island last night have told you that it wasn’t quite the end of the world.’

‘They said it was fine, yes.’ Thorne pointed to the phone in Burnham’s hand. ‘I need to make a call. Do you mind?’

‘No, of course not.’ Burnham thrust the phone at him.

Thorne took it and immediately began walking away, dialling as he went.

Behind him, Burnham said, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll all muck in, we’re used to it.’ He raised his voice as Thorne got further away from him. ‘Trust me, if you’ve got an emergency on, you really couldn’t wish to be anywhere better…’

FORTY-TWO

‘I said, didn’t I?’ Brigstocke had been pulled out of a meeting and something in his tone – a disconnect, a hesitance – told Thorne that he was not getting the DCI’s full attention. ‘Six weeks ago. I told you there might need to be a certain amount of thinking on your feet.’

‘Come again?’

‘A bit of improvising.’

Thorne was walking slowly round in a wide circle at the top edge of the field, his view changing every half a minute or so. Looking back at Burnham, then down towards the crowded graveside; across at the lighthouse, then straight out to sea. ‘It’s a nightmare,’ he said.

‘Come on, it’s not that bad.’

‘I want to get him back to Long Lartin.’

‘Course you do, but one more night isn’t going to hurt.’

‘We’re pushing our luck already.’

‘Meaning…?’

‘Meaning I don’t like to improvise when you’re talking about someone like Stuart Nicklin. It’s hard enough to predict how he’s going to behave at the best of times. We need to do things the right way.’

‘Fine, so what do you suggest?’

‘What about a chopper?’

‘Seriously?’ Brigstocke laughed. ‘I know it’s a bit rough and ready over there, but do you really have to cut your own wood?’

‘I’m not joking,’ Thorne said.

‘You might as well be, Tom, because it’s not going to happen. Look, if there was any kind of danger, any threat to life and limb, then maybe. But what have you got over there? One body, another one in the process of being recovered and two prisoners being very well monitored by multiple police and prison officers. You’ve got no chance, mate.’

‘I want to get off this island.’

‘Understood, but I’m not sure what you want me to do.’

‘Some support would be nice for a kick-off,’ Thorne said. ‘Any support, come to that.’

Brigstocke sighed. ‘If it makes you happy, I’ll make a call, OK? But don’t hold your breath.’

Thorne began walking back across the field towards Holland, Howell and the others. He guessed that by now it would be obvious to most of them that there was a problem. The man who had dug that grave twenty-five years earlier, who stood watching the same piece of ground being opened for a third time, would certainly know.

‘Listen though,’ Brigstocke said. ‘Well done, all right. I know you weren’t very happy about that whole good news, bad news thing. I know we didn’t give you a lot of choice.’