“‘I’ve heard … that there may be photographs.’
‘Photographs,” repeated Strike.
“Winn can’t have them, of course. If he had it would be all over. But he might be able to find a way of getting hold of them, yes.’ He shoved the last piece of tarte in his mouth, then said, ‘Of course, there’s a chance the photographs don’t incriminate me. There are no distinguishing marks, so far as I’m aware.’
Strike’s imagination frankly boggled. He yearned to ask, ‘Distinguishing marks on what, Minister?’, but refrained.”
Bwahahaha — don’t tell me Rowling has somehow anticipated l’affaire champignon (mushroom)? Well, of sorts, anyway? Not that Britain doesn’t have a rich history of its own as far as these, um, situations are concerned …