"Who is Sebastian Calder?" Ruth asked Jerry once he met her in the foyer of the hospital at 12.20.

"Do you have around two hours to spare?"

"You know I don't."

They were waiting by the lifts, since Melanie's room was on the sixth floor. Jerry stepped forward and leaned all his weight against his thumb as he pushed the Up button, even though he'd already pushed it twice. Then he stepped back close to Ruth and began speaking quickly in a low monotone.

"I really should give you the USB drive for safe keeping. I intend making several copies, but I haven't yet had time." Jerry looked around them, but only two elderly couples were waiting to enter the lifts. Jerry hoped they were hard of hearing.

"Short answer re Sebastian. Public school boy, family well off, began using heroin at age fifteen and hit the streets, working as a rent boy to pay for his habit. He's good looking – very good looking; imagine a young Leonardo DiCaprio, with a twist of a young Hugh Grant." He noticed Ruth's grimace. "You don't like DiCaprio?"

"He's alright I suppose. It's Hugh Grant I can't abide. He's so … foppish."

Jerry suspected that Ruth's response was because Hugh Grant was the antithesis of Harry Pearce, although he kept that thought to himself. "I watched the whole video, and I'm straight, and I don't mind admitting I found him rather … engaging. He was picked up off the streets by Clive Keeling, whom I've already interviewed. Keeling is a slimy upper class twat. He organised the sessions in which the kids were used by politicians and other men in power. He was the chief organiser. Sebastian and Clive formed a relationship, which I suspect was more about convenience than it was about love. Then Clive suggested Sebastian get a job at one of the children's homes, which he did. Early in 1991, when he was 17, he acquired a job as a carer at the children's home where Melanie Grant and some of the other children were living." The lift doors opened, and they entered the lift together, along with one of the couples who had been waiting with them. They rode in silence to the 6th floor, and on leaving the lift Jerry continued, although Ruth had an idea where the story was headed. "So, it was Sebastian who chose the children. He had an eye for the type who would be … suitable – sensitive, compliant, quiet, attractive. There was no place for confident, outspoken, or rebellious children in Clive's outfit. Sebastian first approached them, and then Clive took over, asking them did they want to attend a party with some grown-ups. He'd tell them there would be lots of food, toys for them to take home, you know the kind of thing. Seb's relationship with Clive Keeling broke down in 2004, which is when Sebastian took off to Europe. He only arrived back in London last summer." Jerry took a breath, stopping just before the corridor turned left to Melanie's ward. "He took it upon himself to contact some of the children whose lives he had had such a part in destroying. Stroke of conscience, apparently. Of the ten he tried to contact, only six are still alive, and only Melanie was living a so-called normal life, so he chose her to tell the story."

"But she got scared."

"I believe so. She knows about his connection with Clive, and her fear may be that were she to speak out publicly, Clive would come after her .. although not personally. He has people whom he pays to do his dirty work."

"So .. Melanie knows the identities of all the men?"

"Yeah. She was becoming annoyed with me because as she saw it I was taking too long to authenticate her accusations. When she .. absconded from my place I believe she was headed to the police, but then she got cold feet and rang a couple of sub editors of a few of the tabloid newspapers. I found a list she'd made of their names in the rubbish bin in her room. She spoke to some low life at the Daily Mail online, and he was about to publish when the chief editor told him to hold his horses." Jerry looked around him as though searching for anyone who might be listening in, and then continued speaking. "My intention today is to ask her to identify Hector Percival from a bunch of photographs. I've found a photo of Harry from 1992. You're right. He's fallen apart a bit since then."

"I didn't say he'd fallen apart. I said he'd changed."

"Semantics." Jerry leaned down and spoke close to Ruth's ear. "You know that every time you defend the man, your love for him shines in your eyes."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"So, it is true?" Ruth decided she'd not answer him. Cheeky sod. "Right. Let's see what Melanie has to say."

As they walked along the corridor, Ruth took note of the security staff – four of them – at various spots along the corridor leading to Melanie's room, with a uniformed policeman standing just outside the door to her room. "He'll be for appearance's sake only," Ruth whispered as they approached the room.

They were met by the ward sister who gave them strict instructions about how to treat Melanie. "I know why you're here, Mr Nevill. Melanie has intimated what you do for a living. There will be an RN in the room with her at all times. She's not there to listen to you, so don't concern yourself about that. She'll be keeping an eye on the time, as well as on the patient. We don't wish to tire her."

"How is she .. physically?"

The ward sister stood upright and looked around her as if checking for anyone who might be eavesdropping. "Her recovery is nothing short of remarkable," she said, as though `remarkable' was some newly diagnosed contagion. "I don't know how to explain it. I think she knows she has a job to do. Despite the appearance of delicacy, she's incredibly strong .. and resilient."

Inside the room the light was muted, and Melanie looked so small as she rested against her pillows, the head of her bed elevated so that she saw them as soon as they entered the room. She was slightly built – tiny even - and her whole scalp had been shaved, and a wide white bandage was wrapped around her head. Her left arm was wrapped close to her body, and around her eyes were dark bruises, with a particularly large bruise on her left cheek bone.

"Hi Panda," Jerry said, approaching the bed with his hand out. Melanie tried to smile, but clearly it hurt when her face moved, so she reached out with her free hand, allowing Jerry to grasp it. "This is Ruth," he added. "I've known her for around a hundred years. We were at uni together. She now works in security, so if anyone tries anything funny, she can knee them in the nuts."

Again Melanie tried to smile. Ruth found her to be rather serene, and very brave. "Hello, Melanie. I'm just here to ensure Jerry behaves himself and doesn't bore you with his stand-up routine."

"Pleased to meet you," Melanie said quietly.

"Can I sit here?" Jerry said, his hand on the chair beside her bed. Melanie nodded slowly so as to not hurt herself. "I've been told I have to be quick, so I'll get to the point." He drew a folder from inside his battered brief case, sliding from it a number of photographs, which he turned face down on the bed. " I have some photographs here which I want you to look at. They are all of men. Some of these men you may know from the early 1990's. Some of them you won't have met."

"You're testing me?" Melanie's voice was raspy, her eyes wide. Ruth thought she looked no older than fifteen or sixteen.

"I have to. It's not meant to be a trick or a trap. It's just so that we get this right. I want to catch these people, and I want them to do time in gaol, but we have to catch the right ones. Okay?"

"Okay." Melanie turned her head slightly to smile at Ruth. Ruth thought that aside from her obvious injuries, Melanie seemed so normal. "You'll stay?" she asked Ruth. Ruth nodded. She stood the other side of the bed, so that she and Jerry flanked the small woman in the bed.

"We have to be quick and quiet or Nurse Ratched out there will kick us out. I also have to record us," he added, placing his phone on the bed between them, and turning on the audio recorder. "That's just so I have a record of this conversation. I'll ask Ruth to hold your hand, and if you feel like shouting or screaming, just squeeze Ruth's hand instead. Can you do that?" Melanie nodded, and very carefully reached out towards Ruth, who took her hand. "First picture. Do you know this man, and if so, what name do you know him by?"

"Yes. That's Clive Keeling. He was the first man to .. tell me about the .. parties."

"Where did you first meet him?"

"At the home. He was introduced to me by Alan, one of the social workers."

"Do you remember Alan's other name?"

"No. Sorry."

"Never mind. You're doing very well. Next."

Melanie looked at the photograph for several seconds before answering. "We called him George, or Georgie. Some of the other called him Lord George. I believe he was a real Lord … or so he told me."

Jerry nodded, taking his time over identifying the man. "That is Lord George Prentice. He was an important member of the government at the time." Melanie nodded, clearly unimpressed by the man's position. "Next one?" Suddenly Melanie's face changed. Her eyes widened and her grip on Ruth's hand tightened. She took her eyes from the image, turning to Ruth, her eyes panicked. "What name did you know him by, Melanie?"

The young woman licked her lips, slowly turned back to Jerry, and then answered. "He was called Harry. Harry Pearce."

"His real name was Hector Percival, but he preferred the name Harry."

Melanie's grip on Ruth's hand loosened, and she appeared to be remembering something. "It wasn't Pearce. It was Percy. Some people called him Percy, and some called him Harry. It was Seb who always referred to him as Harry Percy, not Pearce. There .. there was a girl in the home when I was there whose name was Gemma Pearce. I always wanted to be Gemma, because she was never chosen to go to the … parties." She sighed, looking at Ruth and then at Jerry. "I must have confused the two."

"You were only eight," Ruth murmured gently.

"I can remember telling Gemma about Harry … Harry Percy. I didn't tell her what he did to me, just that he gave me sweets and bought me lovely clothes. I'd share the sweets with Gemma, telling her his name was Harry Pearce, and that he was probably her father." Melanie sighed and closed her eyes for an moment. "I'd make up stories to tell Gemma about this man, so she'd not feel left out." She sighed slowly.

Ruth squeezed Melanie's hand in a show of support as Jerry showed the next photograph, placing the others face down on the bed. "Do you know this man?"

"Yes. That's Seb. I was fond of him. He was very kind to me. He was kind to us all. He never … did what the others did. His real name was Sebastian. He and Clive used to argue a lot."

Jerry flicked up the next image. "This is Seb today, Melanie. Do you think he was the one who sent you the files?" Melanie nodded, gazing for some time at the photograph, eventually reaching out to touch the image of the face of someone who had demonstrated kindness. "And this man?" Jerry turned over the next image for her to see, keeping a close eye in her face.

Again Melanie stared at the photograph for a long time, her brow wrinkling in concentration. "No .. I've never met him. Who is he?"

"This man's name is Harry Pearce. This photograph was taken in 1992. He works with Ruth here. Their job is to keep us safe."

"Oh, so he's MI5."

"Yes." Jerry glanced across at Ruth to see that she had visibly relaxed. Melanie's words, `I've never met him,' meant that Harry was off the hook.

Jerry showed Melanie five more photographs. Two were men whom she'd met in 1992 and 1993, and three were of men she'd never met. They were his control photographs. He knew she wouldn't have met them, as they were three men from his own family – his father, his maternal grandfather, and one of his uncles. Her clear answers meant that her word was reliable. As he packed the photographs back in his brief case, he asked her one more question.

"Do you know who it was attacked you? When the police interview you this will be their first question. Consider this a practice run."

"I was attacked from behind, and a bag put over my head. I saw no-one, and no-one spoke to me, but I could hear them breathing."

"Them?"

"It felt like there were two of them."

"Have you any idea who would want to harm you?"

"There is a long list of people who know that it was me who spoke to the press, but I think the person with the most to lose is Clive. He's a dangerous man. He has a .. vicious streak."

"Thank you, Mel. I think you should rest now."

Jerry had his story, which he was now free to publish – firstly on his own blog, and then an edited version for the newspapers, but first he planned to visit his contact in the Metropolitan Police. Ruth watched him as he slowly and deliberately closed his brief case, and then looked across the bed to her, smiled a tired smile, and then nodded. They were ready to go. The whole interview had taken only fourteen minutes.