She moved back to Sophie, leaning low over her body and smiling down into her frozen face. ‘I have a special treat for you. One that nobody else in here has ever had. I really hope you like it. I have some people here that I want you to meet. Don’t go away. Wait right there.’

Sophie had nowhere to look but up, right into the lights in the ceiling. She had seen Jessica Matthews smile at her own joke – don’t go away – before vanishing from view. She could only wait and wonder who else was there, who else was about to witness her demise.

She heard footsteps approaching, but this time they were accompanied by the sound of scraping and squeaking, as if some kind of metal pole was being dragged along the ground. The sound got closer and closer and was accompanied by a gurgling, bubbling noise that Sophie could not place.

The sound got so close that Sophie was certain that, if she had been able to move, she would have been able to reach out with her right hand and touch whatever it was that had been dragged into the room.

Jessica’s face reappeared above her own. It was still smiling but this time was sweaty with exertion. She was breathing hard. A tiny bead of sweat dripped into Sophie’s open right eye. It stung like crazy but there was nothing she could do about it.

Matthews was taking deep breaths, clearly excited about something. Eventually she calmed down. ‘Are you ready?’ she said at last. Matthews put one hand on either side of Sophie’s face and gently tilted her head to one side, so she was looking across the room rather than directly up at the ceiling. ‘Here you are, Sophie: these are my friends.’

If Sophie could have screamed she would have. A metal shelving unit had been dragged within a couple of feet of the edge of the bed. She was looking directly at it. On each of the three shelves were several large glass jars. Each contained a human head that gently bounced and twisted in clear fluid.

‘This is James; he’s been a bit down lately, I think he’s been feeling left out. Haven’t you, James? Well, don’t worry, I’ll be spending some more time with you soon. I promise. This one is Raymond. He really wasn’t very nice. He has been apologizing ever since, but he knows I’m still angry with him.’ Matthews was standing by the shelf, lovingly stroking each jar in turn as she spoke about the remains inside.

‘Now this one, this is Ed. He’s got a really black heart.’ She giggled. ‘Somewhere!’

It took ten minutes for Matthews to finish her conversation with James and Raymond and Ed. When she was done she had a very satisfied look on her face. She moved the shelf back a little to give herself room to manoeuvre and then moved the table with the instruments closer so that she could have them within reaching distance.

‘It’s show time,’ she said to no one in particular. Then, turning back to where the heads were: ‘Now, I want everyone to pay attention. I may be asking questions afterwards.’

She checked the flow of rocuronium one last time and then picked up the scalpel once again. She pushed her hand flat on top of Sophie’s chest, her thumb moving back and forth in the space between the girl’s nipples, pushing down hard so that the little shoulder blades were flat against the table beneath. Eyes wide open, she pushed the point of the scalpel into the little indentation at the base of Sophie’s neck. A tiny pool of red fluid began to gather.

A noise. The sound of rubber on wood, followed by a grunt. Someone had tried to kick open the door to the room but had found it far more sturdy than they had imagined.

They would try again but in the meantime Matthews had all the time she needed to prepare. She filled a spare syringe with a dose of rocuronium and decided to stick with the scalpel as her other weapon. She moved to the middle of the room, ready to face her enemy.

Now it sounded as though at least two people were trying to kick the door in together. It took three attempts before the hinges finally buckled. Stanley and Woods tumbled into the room, closely followed by Collins.

All three looked down at Sophie, blood from the wound in her neck spilling over the sides of her tiny body. Stanley stepped forward.

‘You fucking bitch, what have you done to my little girl? I’ll kill you.’

It happened so fast that Collins didn’t even have time to speak. Stanley’s right hand moved across his body and swung up into the air, no longer empty, holding something dark and shiny. A gun. He levelled the weapon at Matthews, who stood staring at him impassively just two feet away. There was no way he was going to miss. There was no way she was going to survive.

‘No, Jack,’ gasped Collins. ‘You can’t shoot her. For God’s sake. Do you want us all to go to prison?’

Stanley hesitated. He turned to face Collins, his face pleading to be allowed to go ahead, to get justice in his own way. He had only just opened his mouth to speak when a scream emerged from his lips instead. The gun fell to the floor and Stanley grasped his forearm, which now had a six-inch blood-filled gash down one side.

Matthews was moving forward, advancing on Collins and Woods, the syringe pointing forward like a dagger. She broke into a run. She slashed at Woods with the scalpel and he barely managed to get out of the way, holding up a hand to defend himself and receiving a deep laceration on his left palm for his trouble.

Collins saw her chance and dashed forward, but Matthews was too quick. She raised the syringe high and brought it down with all her might. Collins saw the point of the needle moving towards her at high speed, but she was moving too fast, her momentum would not let her stop, she could not get out of the way.

Yet, at the last second, Collins stepped to one side. As Matthews brought the syringe down, Collins reached out with both hands and pushed down on the crazed woman’s arm. The syringe continued its arc, moving down and down, until it finally came to rest in the flesh of Matthews’s own thigh.

She looked down at what she had done and then up at Collins. Matthews began to speak but her words were lost as her mouth seized up, her body froze and she collapsed to the ground. Paralysed.

Collins rushed over to Sophie. There seemed to be so much blood, and she couldn’t stop it. She pressed down on the wound with her bare hands, desperately trying to staunch the flow.

‘Tony, call an ambulance,’ she gasped, fighting back tears. ‘Hold on, Sophie. Please hold on. Please hold on. I’m here, Mummy’s here. You just need to hold on.’

Jack Stanley staggered up to the table and leaned forward over Sophie ‘She’s not moving. What’s wrong with her?’

‘She’s been paralysed. It’s a special drug Matthews has been using. I don’t know how long it will take to wear off.’

Stanley reached across and held one of Sophie’s hands. Collins did the same.

A clatter of heavy boots on the tiled floor made them both look up. DCI Anderson and a dozen officers in full riot gear had burst into the room. Two men immediately set about securing Jessica Matthews with plastic cuffs while Anderson took charge.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he said as his eyes reached the shelves containing the jars of heads. ‘It’s like something out of a fucking nightmare.’ His eyes continued moving around the room until they reached something dark and shiny on the floor.

‘Whose gun is that?’

There was silence in the room for a moment. Then Stanley looked up. ‘She had it.’ He nodded towards Matthews. ‘I managed to get it off her and then she cut me with the scalpel and I dropped it.’

Anderson looked at Woods, who nodded, and then at Collins. ‘That’s what happened, sir,’ she said.

Anderson stared at Stanley hard, seeing him properly for the first time. ‘And who the hell are you?’

‘I’m Sophie’s father.’

Seemingly at the sound of her name, Sophie’s eyes began to flicker. As the drug wore off, she turned her head from one side to the other, smiling at her mother, smiling at her father, and then passing out.