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Lidby’s apartment? Shit, shit, shit.
    He stayed quiet and for a few moments; so did she. She was obviously waiting for him to blurt out some objection or protest and give himself away. Give a nervous suspect an empty silence and let them fill it. He wasn’t about to fall for that one.
    â€œAnd what can I do for you?” he managed to say in an unconcerned voice.
    â€œWell, a few minutes ago, I passed you as you were standing outside my building, staring up at my flat,” Caul said to him, pointing at the building through the window. “And now you’re looking at pictures of my girlfriend on your screen. She’s a journalist—as you clearly already know—and her stories have made her a few enemies along the way. So when strangers start hanging around outside our home, showing an interest in her, I take an interest in them. Now, want to tell me who you are and what you’re doing here?”
    Ah , Chi thought. The copper girlfriend . The one Robert had told him to steer well clear of. So this wasn’t official business … yet. Chi was starting to wonder how utterly incompetent he might actually be at this surveillance lark. Certainly, the professionals seemed able to run circles around him. Perhaps he should tap Robert for some tips in return for helping the old man out. Caul was still waiting for an answer, an expression of mild, if slightly hostile, amusement on her face. She was suspicious, but from her posture, must already have decided he wasn’t a serious threat. Not for the first time, Chi was glad that his customary manner gave the impression of a slightly barbed and wary but essentially harmless oddball. He was taken less seriously, but at least people didn’t find him threatening—which meant they’d be more likely to talk to him.
    â€œMy name’s Sandwith. Chi Sandwith. I’m a journalist,” he said at last. “I’m writing a story and I think Sharon might be able to help me. One of my contacts heard she was working on something related to my project and suggested I touch base with her to, y’know … compare notes.”
    â€œAnd who is this contact?” she pressed him.
    â€œCome on,” he said, spreading his hands in a gesture of exasperation. “Really?”
    â€œOkay, let’s leave that aside for a minute. What’s this story?”
    â€œI’ll tell her when I meet her.”
    â€œYou can tell me now or you’ll never meet her.”
    â€œWhat, you follow her around every minute of the day?” he asked her pointedly.
    â€œNo, but we do live together and actually talk from time to time. I’ve already taken a photo of you and now I have your name, Chi Sandwith,” Caul replied, holding up her phone. “Where her safety is concerned, she trusts my judgment. So unless you want to get blackballed before you get anywhere near her, you’re going to have to talk to me.”
    Chi pondered this for a few seconds. He’d been caught out and would have to adapt to the circumstances. But talking to a copper from the Met about a story that could possibly implicate the government in illegal operations in foreign countries, not to mention trying to establish a surveillance state, would be an excellent way to kill the story before it even got started. Anyone involved would soon catch wind and either spin their lies first, undermining Chi, or just disappear. Though they’d tie up all the loose ends before they did so. And Chi didn’t want to end up on some assassin’s to-do list before his story ever saw the light of day.
    But then Robert said Sharon was working on this too. Would Harriet Caul be more loyal to her lover than she was to the government? Probably, Chi thought. It was worth taking the chance.
    â€œAll right,” he said at last. “I’ve heard Sharon is researching a story about spooks who’ve been experimenting with brainwashing techniques. You can