It was only a few minutes' walk down Pier Road and along Hill Street to Le Templier & Burnouf. The receptionist was drinking coffee and sorting through the post when Umber arrived and took a while to absorb the message that he wanted the envelope he had left with Burnouf back and he wanted it now. She rang Burnouf on the internal line and he agreed to spare Umber five minutes.

Five minutes was as long as Umber wanted to spare Burnouf, as it happened, though he did not say so. The ever placid solicitor was still on the internal phone, instructing the receptionist to fetch the envelope from the safe, when Umber hurried into his office.

'Thank you, Janet.' Burnouf rang off. 'Good morning, Mr Umber. Bright and early, I see.'

'Sorry to burst in on you. I, er… well, there's been a…'

'Promising development?'

'No.' Umber was temporarily nonplussed. 'What made you think that?'

'Well, you left your… statement… with me as a precaution, so I understood. Retrieving it suggests precautions are no longer necessary.'

'I've… changed my mind about it. That's all.'

'I see.'

'I'm allowed to do that, aren't I?'

'Of course. It's just…' Burnouf frowned. 'Mr Sharp reappears before the magistrates this morning. I tried to reach you at the Pomme d'Or to discuss his prospects, but they said you'd checked out.'

Umber smiled weakly. 'I found somewhere cheaper.'

'Do you still wish me to say nothing to him about your activities on his behalf?'

'I'll leave that for you to decide.'

'Really? You seem, if I may -' There was a tap at the door. The receptionist came in with the taped and sealed envelope. She delivered it to Burnouf and left. 'Thank you, Janet,' he called after her.

'There's the receipt,' said Umber, whipping it out of his pocket and placing it on the desk. 'May I?' He held out his hand.

'By all means.' Burnouf passed him the envelope. 'There's space on the receipt for you to confirm retrieval. Would you mind signing?' He proffered a pen. Umber signed. 'Leaving Jersey, Mr Umber?'

'Did I say I was?'

'No. It's just… an impression I have.'

'I'll be in touch.'

'What about the Halls? Will you be in touch with them?'

'Sorry?'

'Jeremy Hall's suicide prompted a lot of publicity. One of the newspaper articles I read mentioned a previous suicide by someone linked with the Avebury case. Sally Umber. Not a common surname. Not common at all. I took a flick through the archives. Found you – and Mr Sharp. I visited him yesterday and asked him about it.'

'What did he say?'

'Nothing. Absolutely nothing.'

'Well, that's my line too.'

'I rather thought it might be. Though whether the police will be content with it…'

'The police?'

'They're bound to follow up the connection sooner or later. I wondered if that was why… you'd called in this morning.' Burnouf glanced pointedly at the envelope in Umber's hand.

'Thanks for this,' Umber said stiffly. 'I've got to go.' He turned and made for the door, but before he reached it something stopped him. He looked back at Burnouf. 'Perhaps you could pass a message to George for me after all.'

'I'd be happy to.'

Tell him… it isn't over.'

How Sharp would take such a message Umber did not know. His thoughts were fixed now on getting himself and Chantelle off Jersey as quickly as possible. He hurried out of Le Templier & Burnouf and started back the way he had come, glancing at his watch as he went. It had just turned half past nine. He was comfortably on schedule. His gaze returned to the street ahead.

And he found himself looking into the eyes of Percy Nevinson.

'David! Well, well, well.' Nevinson beamed at him. 'How very nice to see you. And how very unexpected.'

Umber's heart sank. Silently but eloquently, he cursed his luck. 'Percy, I -'

'We shouldn't be too surprised, though. This is a small island. And I assume we're bound for the same destination this morning.'

'Where might that be, Percy?'

'The magistrates' court.' Nevinson winked. 'Mr Sharp's hearing. It should prove interesting, I think. Of course, you may be able to tell me how he finds himself in such a position. The gamekeeper poached, so to speak. Why don't we step in somewhere for a cup of coffee? You can fill me in on the background.'

'Sorry. I'm in a rush. Can't stop.'

'Well, I'll walk with you and we can talk as we go. You see, I can hardly believe Mr Sharp's predicament is unconnected with the latest tragedy to strike the Hall family. Jeremy Hall's suicide is actually what prompted me to come to Jersey. I imagine you can tell me a good deal about that as well, if you've a mind to.'

'But I don't have a mind to, Percy. That's the point. Get out of my way.'

Nevinson bridled. 'There's no need to take that tone.'

'Oh but there is. Now I -'

The events of the next few seconds were compressed into a bewildering jumble in Umber's mind. The flank of a white Transit van appeared suddenly at the edge of his vision. The vehicle bounced up onto the pavement and lurched to a halt a few inches from him, the side-door sliding open fast as it did so. He was grabbed from behind by someone on the pavement, his arms pinned to his sides, the envelope plucked from his hand. A second figure loomed above him and grasped his shoulders. Then he was hoisted off his feet and into the van.

He was face down on an oily blanket covering the floor as the door slammed shut. Two men, strong enough to handle him like a child, were above and around him. There was a shout of 'Go!' then the van surged forward, left the pavement with a jolt and accelerated away. Umber could see the thick neck and shaven head of the driver through the wire-mesh screen between him and the cab.

It was to be no more than a glimpse. His head was yanked up. A blindfold was slung across his eyes. The cloth pressed painfully into them as the knot was fastened. He cried out. But the cry was stifled by a strip of duct tape, slapped across his mouth and pressed tight against his skin. His hands were crushed together behind his back, then cords twined round his wrists and tightened. He tried to struggle up, but a boot descended heavily on his neck, forcing him down again.

Then came a rasping voice close to his ear. 'Lie still or we'll break every fucking bone in your body.'

They were on the road for about half an hour, Umber estimated. His shock faded slightly, but his fear only increased. Reasoning as best he could, he deduced they had been following Nevinson in the hope he would lead them to Umber, as, by pure and malign chance, he had. Nevinson had presumably been left to goggle at the departing van. He was not important. They had got the man they wanted. But what they meant to do with him he did not know. All he knew for certain was that he did not want to find out. The only consolation he had to hold on to was that they had struck too soon. He might have led them to Chantelle if they had held off. But they did not know about her. That was his only advantage. And he had to make the most of it.

Eventually, the van came to a halt. The engine died. The side-door slid open. He was pulled upright and bundled into the open air. He felt the coolness of it against his skin at once. The wind stirred his hair. There was stony ground beneath his feet. 'Start walking' came the instruction. He was frogmarched forward. They covered about twenty yards. He heard a burble of conversation nearby, but could not catch the words. Then: 'Get in the car.' He was pushed through an open car doorway, a hand pressing down his head to clear the frame. The door clunked shut behind him.