Page 37 of Storm Child

‘We’re transferring him to Birchin Way Custody Facility.’

‘Custody?’

‘Border Force want to interview him. After that we hand him over to social services.’

‘When?’

‘Tonight, if they can find him a place.’

‘I want to help.’

‘In what way?’

‘I can review the evidence and give you a different perspective . . . be a fresh set of eyes.’

These arguments seem to land awkwardly. I can picture Carlson asking himself if he wants an outsider involved. I’m a layman not a police officer – not part of the ‘tribe’ or the culture. This can have benefits but it can also be problematic because he has no control over me.

Carlson makes a decision. ‘I’m texting you an address. Meet me there at midday.’

Florence is at the kitchen bench. She bites off a corner of toast. ‘What was that about?’

‘I’m working on the case.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

‘I hope so.’

I scroll through my contacts lists and find a number. Derek Posniak picks up immediately. He and I were at university together and once shared a girlfriend, although we didn’t know it at the time. Now he works for the National Crime Agency, but never talks about his job. I once joked he was a spy. Derek laughed, but there was nothing behind his eyes.

‘Padfoot,’ he says cheerfully. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

He’s using an old nickname, given to me because Cyrus sounds like Sirius (as in Sirius Black), who was Harry Potter’s godfather and could transform into a big black dog called Padfoot.

‘I might have something for you,’ I say.

‘Really? Most people want something from me.’

He’s tapping on a keyboard as he speaks.

‘The small boat that capsized off Cleethorpes was deliberately rammed.’

‘On what evidence?’

‘The eyewitness testimony of the survivor.’

‘A fourteen-year-old.’

‘And text messages from someone else on board.’

Posniak pauses and I hear a pen tapping against his teeth. ‘Have you talked to the police?’

‘I’m working on the case.’

‘Why do you need me?’

‘Yesterday, I talked to an asylum seeker who left Calais on a different boat on the same night. It landed safely in Essex. He told me that the other boat didn’t have permission to travel.’

‘Permission from whom?’

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