Week after week, eventually turning into months, Detective Sergeant Jack Warr had been recalled to the stand and subjected to the Defence�s onslaught. They queried everything, questioning him until he was exhausted, but their main focus was the fact that the bodies of the four murder victims had not been found, despite the wealth of forensic evidence linking them to the basement. Jack was forced to describe the discovery of the horrific scene time and time again.

�You have stated that you pursued Rodney Middleton even after he was arrested for a lesser crime, which he freely admitted to. He had handed over the weapon he used in the assault on the owner of a shop he frequented. Is that correct?�

�Yes,� Jack replied.

�So, even though he pleaded guilty to the assault charge and handed over the weapon, you still requested a search warrant for his premises. On what basis?�

�My evidence has been submitted, it�s in front of you, and the judge agreed that I had reasonable grounds. My intuition told me...�

�So, on the basis of your intuition,� the Defence interrupted in a disparaging tone, �you obtained a search warrant. But it would have been days later when the search was carried out. So, all this time his basement apartment would have been vacant?�

�His girlfriend was still living there and she gave us entry.�

�The reality is, there could have been other people present or moving in and out of the basement property, couldn�t there?�

Jack was getting sick of being treated like an inexperienced rookie.

�I can see where you�re going with this, but what I discovered inside that basement couldn�t have been recently deposited. Four young girls were butchered and decapitated over a lengthy period of time, leaving extensive forensic evidence: blood, hair, clothes, skin, nails...�

At this point the Defence attempted to interrupt but Jack refused to be silenced. Gripping the wooden edge of the dock, his voice strained and hoarse, he didn�t pause for breath.

�He had cut them into pieces in the coal bunker. When luminol was used to detect if blood was present, the whole area, floor to ceiling, lit up. It was literally a blood bath.�

Jack was eventually released from the witness box, walking past the glass partition surrounding the dock where Rodney Middleton was smiling and raising his handcuffed wrists as if applauding. The hideous gloating expression never left his face as the judge called for a short adjournment.

Thirty minutes later, with the court back in session, the bereaved families were finally allowed to read out their impact statements. Middleton laughed, jeered and pulled clown faces, mocking their endless pain, until the judge was forced to intervene.

�Your antics will not save you from hearing their words, Mr Middleton. The families want you to understand how your actions have impacted them. Whether you care or not.�

Jack found the time immediately after each court session just as emotionally draining. Other families constantly approached him outside the courthouse, weeping and pressing photographs of their dead daughters to his chest, begging him to find out if they were also victims of Rodney Middleton�s heinous crimes. Jack�s team had found further blood stains, not linked to the four young girls they knew had died in that basement. There were definitely more victims, but so far the police had no idea who they were.

When the guilty verdict was delivered and Rodney Middleton given a life sentence, for Jack it felt almost meaningless. Against legal advice, and despite being refused the first time of asking, Jack persisted in his request for a ten-minute face-to-face meeting with Middleton in his cell before he was taken to prison. Jack argued that this was his best chance to gain more information about the as yet unidentified victims.

He was given five minutes. Jack was taken down to the holding cells, accompanied by an officer who agreed to remain outside the closed but unlocked cell door. As Jack waited for Middleton to turn and face him, his right hand slipped into his pocket and felt for the tough leather shoelace � he knew he�d have to act fast.

Middleton looked surprised to see him. Before he could speak, Jack said, �I know you can give us the identity of more victims, Rodney. Let me give some peace to their families.�

Middleton smiled. �You have no idea how much pleasure I get from being the only one who knows where they are and how they died. So you, Jack, can go fuck yourself.�

Jack didn�t react. It was nothing more than he�d expected. Then he stepped quickly up to the bench where Middleton was sitting. In the blink of an eye, Jack had the leather shoelace round Middle-ton�s neck, pulling it tighter with all his strength. Middleton tried to scream but no air could escape Jack�s garrotte. He clawed at the shoelace as Jack dragged him across to the stainless steel toilet in the corner of the cell, forcing his head down into the bowl.

Middleton�s bulbous red, oxygen-deprived eyes were now full of fear. It was Jack�s turn to smile. �I will find those girls; I don�t need you.� This was the moment Jack should have let go. But he was enjoying the fear in Middleton�s eyes too much and he knew that another twenty seconds would be enough to kill him. Middleton squeezed his fingers under the garrotte, took in a lungful of air and screamed. Jack whipped the shoelace from round Middleton�s neck and deftly slipped it back into his pocket before yanking the cell door open.

As two officers rushed into the cell, he said, �Mad bastard tried to scratch his own throat out.�

�He tried to kill me!� Middleton screamed.

Jack shrugged. �If I had... you�d be dead.� He exchanged a wordless look with the two officers, trusting that whatever they suspected had really happened would not be reported.

As he walked out into the corridor, Jack knew that if he ever got another chance he wouldn�t be able to hold back. He would kill Rodney Middleton.

Having been told Doctor Kenneth Hargreaves was running late for their appointment, Jack sat patiently in the Harley Street waiting room not knowing what to expect. It was his first visit to the clinic.

It was nearly 9.30 a.m. when the door opened and the receptionist informed him that Doctor Hargreaves had arrived. Hargreaves had actually arrived ten minutes earlier and had quickly scan-read the initial consultation report. Normally he would have studied a patient�s file thoroughly, made notes and carefully considered his approach before meeting them, but today he just hadn�t had time.

Jack entered Hargreaves� office and the doctor stood up, offering his hand.

�I apologise for keeping you waiting, Mr Warr. My train was cancelled. Please take a seat.� He pointed to a comfortable-looking chair in front of his desk.

Jack glanced around the bland, almost featureless room. Hargreaves flipped open his leather notebook and removed a slim silver biro from the grip, which he placed to one side. Jack settled into the chair as requested.

�It was my wife�s idea to have a private consultation. She spoke very highly of you.�

Hargreaves hesitated while trying to recall the phone call with Doctor Warr. �Ah yes, I have an NHS practice at the hospital where she works two mornings a week. She�s on maternity leave now, I believe.� Hargreaves knew that Jack had walked out on two previous sessions with NHS therapists. �But I believe you were not enthusiastic about coming to see me.�

�Correct.�

�Are you happy to talk to me today?�

�That�s why I�m here,� Jack said non-committally.

Hargreaves found Jack�s dark eyes unnerving, almost challenging, but it didn�t disturb him. He had spent years as a prison psychiatrist so had extensive experience of troubled and dangerous individuals. Jack�s physically relaxed demeanour was slightly at odds with his steady eye contact, but he showed no tension with his hands resting on his crossed legs. Hargreaves started slowly.

�This must be quite a challenging time with a new baby?�

�You could say that. But Maggie is incredible.�

�What�s your son�s name?�

�We�re still arguing about that. I want to call him Horatio, but Maggie hates it.� Hargreaves looked as if he was about to say something so Jack quickly went on. �When Maggie took maternity leave, she went into nest-building overdrive and decided we needed a kitchen extension. She organised it all. It�s open-plan with a glass roof and fitted blinds. She chose the flooring tiles, lights and all the kitchen appliances. Now she wants a load of inside plants from the garden centre.�

�It all sounds very costly,� Hargreaves said.

Jack nodded. �I had to take out a bank loan and sell my car. Well, Maggie thought it was my car...� Jack knew he was about to say something revealing but felt oddly comfortable with that. Perhaps because he knew his words would never leave this room. �It was a debt someone felt they owed me. Nothing illegal, but Maggie wouldn�t have approved.�

�Jack...� Hargreaves gave Jack a knowing smile. �Why are you here?�

Jack was about to go off on another tangent, then stopped himself. �I worry I might hurt Maggie.�

�Just Maggie? Are your children safe?�

�Of course they are.�

�The aggression you feel � is it verbal or physical?� Jack frowned as he struggled to find the answer. �Have you ever hit out? Lost control? Jack, have you ever physically attacked your wife?�

Jack looked horrified by the very thought. �Of course not!�

Hargreaves persisted. �But you think you could?�

�Yes. It�s got so bad that some nights I sleep in a different room. I have no control over it. And recently, it�s got a lot worse. Punching, shouting and kicking out in my sleep.�

Hargreaves leaned back and sighed, wishing his train had not been late. Wishing he�d had time to read Jack�s notes more thoroughly. �You�re talking about night terrors.�

�What did you think I meant?� Jack said through clenched jaws. �That I�m a wife-beater?�

�Sorry. I misunderstood what I read in the report.�

�What did Maggie say to you?�

�Not that, Jack. It was my error. I understand now. You�re in a deep sleep when these episodes occur. Do the nightmares occur frequently or just periodically?�

�More frequent now. When I punch or kick out, it usually wakes me up. I�ve fallen out of bed plenty of times.�

�Do you sleepwalk?�

�No.�

Hargreaves nodded and made a note. �Have you had these problems since childhood?�

�Not that I know of. Maggie said it started a few months ago.�

�It could be due to the stress in your life right now. The upheaval in your home and a new baby. I want to book you an overnight appointment at a sleep clinic as soon as possible.� As Hargreaves made a note of this, Jack rolled his eyes. He wanted answers now. Not in a week. A month. Longer? �You will be wired up to monitor your brain activity, as well as heart rate and eye and leg movement throughout the night. They will also watch your sleeping behaviour on CCTV. What we find out will allow me to understand your sleep disorder better, then we can discuss how best to control it. How does that sound?�

�Whatever it takes to stop the nightmares,� Jack said. �And to keep Maggie safe.�

�You�re still on leave at the moment?�

�My sick note�s almost up, I think. Do I get another from you?�

Hargreaves smiled. �Ironically, they are now called fit notes. Speak to your GP about that.�

The session continued for another thirty minutes, but Jack didn�t invest too heavily in any of it. Once he�d discovered that Hargreaves was too stupid to read his notes properly, Jack had kept things quite superficial. He had given no indication of the torment that sometimes felt like a hurricane raging inside his head. He�d decided to keep that hidden or he�d be written off as mentally unstable. He was surprised Hargreaves had not asked about the content of his nightmares, not that Jack would have told him. Revealing that he had tried to strangle Rodney Middleton with a shoelace and felt an uncontrollable compulsion to destroy him on behalf of the unidentified victims would definitely not be a good idea.

Hannah was still awake when Jack went up to check on her. He sat on her bed and gently reprimanded her for telling fibs. When she burst into tears and said she was sorry, he hugged and kissed her. As she settled back, he said they were trying to think of a nice name for her baby brother and, as she was his big sister, did she have one she liked? He was unsure about Bob SquarePants but asked her to keep thinking about it.

When he came downstairs, Maggie had lit candles for the table and dimmed the lights.

�You know, Jack, we could move the big table from the dining room into here and get rid of this old kitchen table. Then we could use this as a kitchen diner, making the dining room obsolete... we hardly use it anyway.�

Jack closed his eyes; he knew where this was heading. �Please, Mags, no more knocking down walls.�

�Not straightaway, but we could open up the dining and living room and make it one huge room. Maybe get a nice big fireplace to replace that hideous tiled thing we�ve got... or make a partitioned area for the kids to play in.�

�The loft conversion will be a nursery and playroom for them. We can�t afford it anyway.�

�Well, we do need to talk about money.�

Jack sighed. �Tonight is for baby names.�

�I know you took out an extension on the mortgage which will cost us another five hundred a month,� Maggie persisted.

�Look, Mags, I�ve avoided VAT by paying Marius cash, which saves us a lot. He reckons they should be finished next week, so I�ll know the total then.� Jack smiled reassuringly, wanting to bring the conversation to a close. �We�ll manage. Having one car makes a big difference.� In truth, Jack didn�t know if they�d be OK or not. But there was no point discussing it with Maggie � she didn�t have the whole picture and he wasn�t prepared to enlighten her. He deftly changed the subject. �I�ll miss driving the Tesla though. Nice while we had it.�

Maggie frowned. �I think it�s awful that Simon�s not been in touch. He�s Hannah�s godfather after all.�

Jack immediately wished he hadn�t mentioned Ridley�s bloody car. �He�s abroad,� he lied quickly. �I got an email from him about taking the car back to the dealers.�

�An email? That all? I thought you were better friends than that,� Maggie said, shaking her head.

Jack poured himself another glass of wine and tried to get the subject back on track. �Right, time we settled our son�s name.� He was relieved when Maggie left to fetch her list of the names they had discussed so far.

She checked the baby monitor, quickly turning up the volume to listen to the baby�s breathing as it would soon be time for another feed. �Any thoughts on godparents?� she asked.

�Not yet.�

�I don�t know if you agree, but I think Marius might be a good idea. I�m sure Penny would like it.�

�Isn�t he a bit old? I thought it was about being, you know, like a guardian if anything happened to us?�

�Perhaps you should remind Simon of that when he next surfaces,� she said, testily. �Right, names. What sounds good with Warr?� She flattened the notes out and picked up a pencil. �The names on the list are... Oscar, Nathan, Adam, Daniel, James, Vincent, Henry, Louis...�

Jack leaned back and kept shaking his head as she read out one name after another. �Don�t like any of them.�

Maggie pursed her lips in irritation; she knew what he was up to. �Stop shaking your head... we are not calling him Horatio! What do you think about Michael? That sounds good with Warr.�

�Nope, I don�t like that either.�

She was losing her patience. �I like Jason, Jason Warr?�

Jack sighed and gulped down the rest of his wine.

Maggie slapped the table with her hand. �We need to register his name, Jack. And book a christening and...�

�I want to call him Horatio. Horatio Hornblower was a brave, defiant captain who sailed his own path. His life was one big adventure. No compromising. He was also the son of a doctor,� Jack added.

Maggie began to waver. �What if we name him after your father? Will that satisfy you?�

�What... call him Charlie?�

�Yes, then Horatio can be his middle name if you like.�

Jack thought about it.

Maggie continued nudging. �You have to consider the ribbing he�d have to contend with at school if he was called Horatio. I mean, some of the names these film stars call their kids are farcical.�

�Axl�s all right.�

�What?�

�Guns N� Roses singer�s called Axl�.

�No,� Maggie said firmly, unsure whether Jack was being serious. �But what about Adam? That sounds good with our surname � Adam Warr. I like that.�

Jack repeated Adam Horatio Warr twice out loud, which seemed to Maggie like a positive sign.

�Terrific, we�ll sleep on that. I�ll feed and change him.� Maggie quickly left the room before Jack could say anything else.

Jack had no intention of calling his son Adam. It reminded him of the criminal, Adam Border, who he had hunted obsessively for months, suspecting his involvement in a horrific murder and large-scale drug dealing. He had eventually tracked Border to Ireland and was then offered a bribe he didn�t refuse. Jack accepted the Giacometti painting to end the investigation and let Border go free, hoping he would go underground and never resurface. No, the name �Adam� had all the wrong associations for Jack.

Just after eleven, Jack finished another large glass of wine, went upstairs, showered and got ready for bed. Maggie had already packed a small overnight bag for his visit to the clinic and was now reading. He opened her bedside table drawer and removed a small medicine bottle.

�If you don�t mind, I�ll take one of your sleeping tablets to get a good night�s rest before the tests tomorrow.�

She worried that Jack was becoming reliant on the sleeping tablets but equally didn�t want him having a nightmare and lashing out. �I�d like you here with me tonight so if it helps you sleep, that�s fine. I�ll give him his next feed with us here in bed.�

A minute later, when Maggie put down her book and rolled over to face him, Jack was asleep. She turned off his night light and placed her phone beneath her pillow on �vibrate� to wake her for the feed without disturbing him.

Maggie was in a deep sleep when Jack suddenly started pushing her in the back with both arms. He kicked out, making hard contact with her legs. She jumped out of bed and saw the look of fear on his face as he shouted through clenched teeth. �Stay away from me. Leave me alone, get back. I don�t know you. I can�t find you.�

She stood watching anxiously as he punched and kicked out, his body twisting and turning. She cautiously went to his side and shook his shoulder.

�Jack, Jack, wake up. WAKE UP!�

His eyes opened wide in fear, not knowing where he was. He was panting and gasping for breath as he pulled himself into a sitting position. �Oh God, it happened again... are you all right, Mags?�

�I�m fine. You were thrashing about and shouting, �stay away from me�, like you were seeing ghosts. God, Jack, you looked so scared.� The baby monitor crackled, followed by the sound of Piglet crying. Maggie went to him while Jack, feeling nauseous, sat up rubbing his throbbing head � he was so hot, sweating like he�d done a workout at the gym. He got out of bed, snatching a cotton throw from the floor and staggered into the bathroom. He lay down on the cold tiles and covered himself with the throw.

By the time Maggie returned, Jack was asleep and, not wanting to disturb him, she reluctantly left him on the bathroom floor for the night. She wanted him with her, needed him. But he wasn�t ready.

Jack opened the front door and was overjoyed to see his six foot four American friend, Josh, standing on the porch. Although he�d aged, and his thick black hair was now speckled with white, he still looked fit. They shook hands, gave each other a manly hug and patted backs. Josh only had one large rucksack, explaining that he�d put his cases in left luggage at Euston station. Jack noticed his limp was more pronounced as they walked to the kitchen. Josh whistled in admiration at the new extension and open-plan layout.

�Man, this is spectacular. What a difference, it�s three times the size.�

�My mother�s �friend� did all the work with his crew. He�s also doing a loft conversion. Next time you stay, you�ll have a bedroom with en suite.�

Jack opened a bottle of whisky and poured two large glasses. They sat at the table. Josh filled him in about his family life, said he was no longer working as an undercover officer for the New York Police due to his further hearing loss. But they still employed him and he was currently doing a lecture tour speaking to police and prison officers across the UK. Josh said he�d spoken with DCI Clarke, who told him Jack was on sick leave.

�What�s the problem?�

Jack waved his hand. �Oh, nothing, it�s just a ploy to extend my paternity leave.�

Josh knew Jack was hiding something and was about to press him when Penny walked in.

�Josh!� Penny gushed. �How lovely to see you again. How�s Louisiana? Do you still have a healthy appetite for roast leg of lamb with all the trimmings?�

�Ha! Great memory, Ma�am. Your food was delicious, the best I�ve ever tasted. Talking of food...� Josh beamed. �I wonder if you guys fancy going out to eat... on me, of course.�

Penny wished she could say yes. �We had something earlier but thank you for the offer. If you�re hungry, I can make you both something.�

�No need, Mum,� Jack said. �I bought two big steaks this afternoon.�

As Penny made herself a hot chocolate, Josh showed her photographs of his daughters on his mobile. Jack was impatient for Penny to leave but she was clearly enjoying herself and so it seemed was Josh.

�Who�s that beautiful woman standing next to your daughters?� Penny asked.

�I intend to marry her as soon as my divorce is through,� Josh said.

Penny tensed her shoulders disapprovingly but then forced a smile. �I�ll leave you boys to it, then.�

Just as Penny was leaving, Maggie walked in with the baby balanced on her hip. Josh leapt up, hands out, desperate to hold the newest addition to Jack�s family.

�My God, he�s perfect. No wonder you went off sick, Jack.� Josh held the baby in the crook of his arm and swayed from side to side. �I�d never want to let this guy out of my sight either. What�s his name?�

�I want to call him Horatio, but Maggie doesn�t like it,� Jack said.

Maggie smiled, playing it down. �For goodness� sake, Jack, don�t start this again.� Then she addressed Josh directly. �I think we�re going to call him Adam.�

�I haven�t said yes, Maggie. And Josh will understand why. Remember the case we worked on, that big drug bust?�

�Yeah, yeah, I remember. Adam Border. We spent months trying to track him down. He was suspected of killing his mother... dangerous bastard disappeared off the face of the earth.�

Maggie stared daggers at Jack. Why drop this bombshell for the first time in front of Josh?

�Well, in that case, of course we won�t call our child Adam. Penny will be pleased. She didn�t like it either. Perhaps we�re back to naming him after your dad then.�

�My kids� names all start with J. So any inherited silver will have the same initials,� Josh said. �Maybe call him Jake. Jake Warr. Or Junior.�

Jack raised his eyebrows in approval as Maggie took the baby back from Josh. She was not prepared to discuss her child�s name with yet another person.

�Right, I�ll leave you two in peace unless you need me to make you something to eat.�

�I�ve got it organised,� Jack said. As he stepped in to kiss his son, Maggie shook her head at him, still unable to believe he hadn�t bothered to tell her why he was against the name Adam.

With Jack and Josh now alone, Jack topped up their whisky. �I�ll take you upstairs later to show you the loft extension. Maggie has been like a sergeant major, ensuring the bulk was done before the baby arrived.�

Josh pretended to shudder. �Adam Warr. Imagine. That�s the problem with our job, everything reminds us of someone we�d rather forget... I suppose Border sticks in your mind as the one that got away, even more so nowadays as I�m here giving warning lectures about some new drugs which I reckon will be taking hold in this country soon if you don�t do something about it.�

�What did you make of DCI Clarke?�

�Not that helpful. And quite evasive when I asked about you.�

Jack opened the fridge and took out two large T-bone steaks on a covered dish.

�Clarke said you�d had a lengthy trial to deal with, and the defence council grilled you good and proper in the witness box.�

�That�s putting it mildly. Did you see Laura at the station?�

Josh nodded, sipping his drink and giving himself time to think. �Bit awkward. We both knew that what we had going wasn�t the real deal. I wrote to her a few times when I went back to New York. Maybe she wanted more from me, but at the time I was still married, and to be honest, it was really a sort of one-night stand that went on for many nights!�

Jack smiled, although he knew Laura had been seriously smitten.

Josh continued. �We were on the Adam Border investigation when I met her. But I left the UK before it came to a conclusion. Laura said he was still on the run.�

�Yeah, yeah, that�s right. How do you like your steak?� Jack asked, not wanting Josh to talk anymore about the wanted man he�d let escape.

�Rare. Can I do anything to help?�

�No, everything�s under control. You just sit and relax.�

As Jack popped the chips into the air fryer, Josh poured himself another whisky. He took out a cigar, held a lighter to the tip and asked if it was OK to smoke indoors. Jack hesitated, knowing Maggie would loathe it, and the pause was enough for Josh. He got up, opened the conservatory door and stepped outside into the garden.

Jack set the table, opened a bottle of red wine to let it breathe, and then threw together a side salad. The T-bone steaks, one rare and one medium, took only a few minutes to cook, and the chips were done at the same time. The whole process had taken the same time as smoking half a cigar. Josh came in from the garden to see his host opening one drawer after another, looking for steak knives and napkins.

�My God, this is a feast. And the steaks are the size we get in the States. Very much appreciated. Thank you, Jack.�

With everything dished up, Jack poured the wine; they toasted each other and tucked in.

Even though they had worked together, Josh felt he didn�t really know Jack all that well, and it had been a while since they�d had contact. Josh was a very experienced officer with an excellent ability to assess people quickly due to his years undercover. But he found Jack hard to fathom. There was a boyish enthusiasm to him and a charming openness, but he always felt Jack was holding a lot back. He definitely disapproved of Josh�s affair with Laura, for instance. It was Laura who�d said that Jack was on sick leave, but no one knew why. She also said he had changed a lot recently, putting it down to the absence of DCI Ridley.

Josh noticed how reticent Jack was when asked innocuous questions about returning to work. He avoided eye contact while distracting himself with clearing the dishes. He opened another bottle of wine and asked Josh where he was going to be travelling. Josh gave a rundown of the various stations he had already visited, some work he was doing with the UK National Crime Agency and a few prisons where he felt his talks would be beneficial. Josh noted Jack�s lack of interest, staring ahead as if not even listening. He instinctively knew something was deeply wrong, but didn�t want to ask in case it was personal, having sensed the tension between Maggie and Jack earlier.

�I miss undercover work,� Josh continued. �But it was getting tough with my hearing getting worse and then my leg. Sciatica is a bitch! And all you can do is stuff yourself with painkillers. My boss put this programme in my orbit, connected to stuff going on in San Francisco, and then after a few months there I was sent over to LA because they were in a similar situation.�

�Situation?� Jack asked, pouring them both another glass of wine.

�There�s a fucking epidemic over there! Zombie drugs, killing thousands of young kids. Fentanyl is being sold mixed with cocaine and heroin. It�s a plague.�

Josh got up and stepped out for a second, saying he wanted to show Jack something. He returned with a small medical box, opening it at the table. He held up one of the small glass tubes.

�When there�s an opioid overdose, from heroin or prescription drugs like Vicodin, OxyContin or Percocet, this little vial literally brings them back from the dead. Naloxone. You don�t even need a prescription. You can buy it from any pharmacy in the US. I�m not sure about here.�

Jack nodded. �Pharmacies don�t stock it here. But I think all emergency services carry it now. Police have been trained to use it since mid-2023. Well, that�s what�s supposed to be happening.�

�I�ve been visiting all the known drug hangouts, first in San Francisco and then in LA, to get naloxone out there and save as many lives as possible. Junkies started carrying a vial at all times. You can see them administering it to each other out on the streets... Anyway, just as we�re making headway protecting people against the fucking mixed street drugs we know about, a brand new one sweeps through the inner cities.� Josh�s level of passion doubled as he continued. �This one is strong enough to knock out an elephant. It�s called xylazine and wreaks havoc on users. The body count keeps mounting. Naloxone doesn�t have any reversal effect on xylazine; what happens with this poison is their flesh rots, and the skin opens up with horrific lesions that don�t heal. Amputating the limb is the only way to stop the spread around the body.�

�But it�s not here in the UK?� Jack showed proper interest for the first time.

�It�s coming. That�s why I�m here. You�ve already had some deaths for sure. Your prisons have seen it. It�s sometimes known as tranq or sleep-cut. It�s a common veterinary tranquilliser used on cattle, horses and elephants. They inject it, swallow it or even crush the tablets into a powder so they can snort it. The dealers are also mixing it with fentanyl to get a greater high. Sometimes the user has no memory because it can cause amnesia, and as it�s a respiratory depressant, it causes the heart rate and blood pressure to plummet. They become total zombies, dying on their feet, and...�

Josh suddenly bowed his head, and his shoulders shook as he started sobbing.

Jack quickly pushed back his chair and moved to Josh�s side. �Hey, come on. Maybe it�s time you got some sleep. Jet lag�s messing with your head.�

Embarrassed, Josh covered his face with his hands as he wept, having kept in the horrors for so long. �Sorry, man, I�ve just seen so much.� When he tried to get up from the table, he stumbled as his bad leg went from under him. Jack had to grab him by the shoulders and help him to stand. He guided Josh out of the kitchen, almost buckling under the weight of the big man, then helped him into the dining room and onto the blow-up bed. Josh flopped back, moaning. �Sorry for losing it, man, but what this stuff is doing to kids is a nightmare.�

�Believe me, I understand when it comes to nightmares,� Jack said, putting the pillows behind his friend�s head.

Josh adjusted his hearing aid. �What did you say?�

�Nightmares. I have them too.�

�Try living in one, day after day, night after night. To be honest, I�ve been sent on this so-called lecture tour because I was losing it... reality is I can�t take being at the centre of this sickness. In the past, I�ve always been able to handle it but... maybe twenty years is enough for any man. I�ve risked my life Christ knows how many times, even going undercover in Mexico to infiltrate a gang bringing the chemicals in from China to cook up the fentanyl.�

Josh looked over to Jack. He was staring into space, clearly no longer listening. Josh eased himself off the bed, pulling himself to his feet on Jack�s arm.

�I need the bathroom, not drunk so much in years.�

Jack hurried ahead to hold open the door. �Downstairs loo is next to the kitchen. If you want to shower, there�s a family bathroom on the second floor, by the nursery.�

Jack watched as Josh unzipped his holdall and grab his toiletries bag.

�Downstairs will be fine.�

Josh pressed hard on his leg as he limped from the room. Jack felt bad about zoning out. With all this talk of drugs, maybe Josh was hitting a little too close to home.

Josh slept until 9 a.m., then put on jeans and a white T-shirt before packing his belongings. He walked barefoot into the kitchen, where Maggie sat at the table forcing down a decaf coffee while the baby was sleeping in his carrier beside her.

�Penny and Hannah have gone to the park, and Jack has gone for a run. He popped in to see you earlier, but you were sound asleep. Would you like some eggs and bacon for breakfast?�

�That would be great, thank you. The mattress was very comfortable. Do you want me to let the air out and fold it up?�

�Leave it... if Jack�s nightmares continue, he said he might sleep downstairs. Coffee or tea?�

�Coffee would be great.� Josh drew up a chair while Maggie prepared breakfast.

�I had a long talk with Jack last night.�

Maggie handed him a freshly brewed mug. �Yes, thank you Josh. He seemed calmer when he came to bed and didn�t have another nightmare, thank goodness.�

Josh hesitated, wondering how he could explain his concerns to Maggie without revealing what Jack had said about wanting to kill Middleton.

�He went into a lot of detail about the Rodney Middleton case. It�s clearly had a big emotional impact on him, especially dealing with the families whose daughters had been murdered or gone missing. I hope I am not speaking out of turn, but I think Jack is suffering from vicarious trauma. Basically, it�s caused by prolonged exposure to other people�s pain.�

�I�ve heard of it,� Maggie said. �I�m aware of medics suffering from it, mainly those working in emergency and intensive care departments.�

Josh nodded. �It�s the same for detectives like Jack, who investigate horrific murders and the sexual abuse of children. Dealing with the victims, their families and witnesses can go on for months, even a year or more. No wonder it leads to mental health problems.�

�And you think it�s causing his nightmares.�

�I do. I also believe it�s the reason he doesn�t want to talk about it or go back to work and face investigating similar cases again. I think it�s imperative he gets counselling before he does something he will regret.�

�He adamantly refuses to see therapy as a serious option. He thinks the man he saw was an idiot, but I think that�s just his way of deflecting.�

�He needs to see a real specialist,� Josh said.

�I wish I could track down Ridley,� Maggie sighed. �He was always such a mentor for Jack, but I have no idea where he is or, for that matter, the circumstances surrounding his disappearance. Something happened between them which I have never been able to get out of Jack, apart from the possibility Ridley has cancer again and is not coming back to the station.� Maggie returned to the cooker and plated the eggs and bacon with fried bread and baked beans. As she placed it in front of Josh, he gave her an appreciative smile. �Where are you off to next?� she asked.

�Manchester, Liverpool and Leeds. I have quite a busy schedule giving talks at police stations and prisons.� He didn�t mention that he had arranged to meet Laura first.

�You must miss your family.�

He nodded but made no reply.

�Is it your second marriage?�

�It�ll be my third�.

�Do you have other children or just the two little girls?�

�I did... my eldest son died not long ago.�

�Oh, I�m sorry.�

Maggie waited a moment for Josh to say more, but he didn�t. Instead, he tucked into his breakfast as Maggie checked on the baby before lifting his carrycot to take him upstairs.

�I need to give him a bath and another feed,� she sighed.

�He�s a lovely little boy,� Josh said.

�Thank you. We need to organise the christening, never mind choose the name. I thought about it last night and decided we�ll christen him after his grandfather � Charles. And keep Horatio as his middle name. This means Penny will be happy, and hopefully, it�ll perk Jack up as well. Though we�ll probably use Charlie like everyone did with his dad.� Maggie paused at the kitchen door. By now, the baby had started to wake, so she told Josh to help himself to more coffee and that Jack would hopefully be home before he left.

Josh finished his breakfast then went into the cloakroom to freshen up. In the room he�d used to sleep in, he put on a fresh shirt and clean socks and laced up his expensive trainers. He got dressed, then double-checked he had left nothing in the room before slipping the medical box into his rucksack. He grabbed his leather jacket from the back of a chair and checked his wallet and passport were inside. He stood in the hall momentarily, listening, before quietly opening the front door and closing it behind him.

Portobello Road, as always, was alive with a remarkably diverse range of people going about their lives amid the multicoloured buildings and stalls. But if Jack had been in this part of London at this very moment, he would have been stunned to see who was coming out of a framer�s shop carrying a stack of old guilt and wood frames, bold as brass.

It was Adam Border.

He had made no effort to disguise his appearance, with a baseball hat pulled quite low but not really hiding his face, his blond hair tied in a ponytail, and wearing a worn denim jacket. He walked casually down the road, turning towards a parked Mercedes jeep. He bleeped it open to stash the frames and drove off towards Westbourne Grove, pulling off his baseball cap and putting on a pair of sunglasses.

Maggie and Jack�s drive home, the car full to the brim with plants, pots and urns, was tense; partly because they had been given a parking ticket for overstaying the two-hour time limit, but mainly because Jack refused to discuss hiring extra help for Penny.

They carried the plants and pots, plus two bags of soil and fertiliser through the kitchen and into the garden in silence. While Jack carried on unloading, Maggie ordered a pizza, bathed Charlie, fed him, and put him to bed. Because Hannah was eating with them, Maggie couldn�t really bring up the subject of Penny getting some help when Maggie returned to work, so Maggie got out her mobile to show Penny and Hannah the photographs of all the second-hand items they had bought for the loft extension but hadn�t yet collected. Bored with looking at pictures of furniture, Hannah said she wanted to watch TV in her bedroom, so she was allowed to take a slice of pizza up with her.

�I�ll be up in a minute and bring you a hot chocolate,� Penny said, getting up from the table.

�Sorry we left the kids with you for so long,� Maggie said. �We didn�t intend to stay at the market this late.� With Jack there too, she finally saw her opportunity to bring up the idea of an au pair. �Penny, Jack and I wanted to...�

Jack immediately got up from the table. �Just going to check I locked the car.�

Maggie couldn�t believe Jack was sabotaging the conversation again. She tried to stop him. �I saw you lock it, Jack.�

�No, you didn�t. I was still unloading when you went to check on Charlie.� He walked out of the kitchen and the front door slammed behind him. Maggie snatched up the empty pizza boxes as though taking them to the bin, then hurried to the front door just in time to see Jack drive off. She marched back into the house and Penny could see the look of fury on her face.

�Are you all right, dear? I don�t mean to pry but... if you need to talk.�

Janet Williamson lived alone in a small, rented flat above an estate agent in the local village. It was a temporary rental as her retirement date was only a few weeks away. She was a fully qualified nurse who had worked most of her career in UK prisons. After Holloway closed, she�d been offered numerous placements, and she chose to be the senior nurse in the hospital wing at Bellview prison in Southeast London. It was a Category A men�s prison, with a high security unit housing some of the UK�s most dangerous and violent criminals in squalid single-occupancy cells. It was overcrowded, run-down and in need of refurbishing, as well as having a reputation as a brutal prison, with constant gang fights and assaults on staff � but the pay was consequently very good.

Added to that, Janet had seen it all during her career, and there was little that surprised or disturbed her, having treated Category A inmates and others who were drug addicts, alcoholics or who had mental health issues. Working in the hospital unit for inmates who were too ill to be examined on their wing suited her just fine.

The only downside was Doctor Zardari, the new prison doctor, who worked as a local GP two mornings a week and spent the rest of his time at the prison. He seemed unsure of himself and couldn�t get the hang of the prison rules and regulations.

On Sunday morning, Janet had a lie-in until 11 a.m. before going shopping at her local Tesco. She filled her trolley with frozen meals, one for every day of the week, and was just reaching for a carton of milk when she heard a voice behind her.

�Sorry to bother you... but is your name Janet?�

She ignored the voice and walked towards the cold meat section, but the man followed her.

�My name�s Josh Logan, a friend of Laura�s, the police detective. We met at that big Met event some time ago. I�m a detective on the New York drugs squad.�

She turned, frowning, having no recollection of him, although she vaguely remembered meeting a policewoman called Laura somewhere. She had no idea that he had followed her from her flat to the supermarket.

�Oh, do you live round here?� She noticed his shopping basket contained a bottle of wine, crisps and prawn crackers.

�No, I�m staying at a B&B down the road. I�m doing drugs awareness lectures at prisons across the country before I retire. I remember you said you were a prison nurse.�

She nodded. �At Bellview. But I�m retiring soon too.� Looking at him properly, she realised he wasn�t bad looking. �I�m sorry I didn�t remember you straightaway.�

�And there was me thinking I was unforgettable,� he smiled, and she laughed.

As they headed to the car park, Josh helped carry Janet�s groceries. She noticed his limp and asked if he had a bad knee. He explained he�d been shot on an undercover assignment and his knee had got worse over the years.

�Family?� Josh asked.

�Divorced. My daughter lives in New Zealand.�

�Long way,� Josh commented.

�I�m going to visit when I retire,� she said. �Marion went over there to be with the love of her life, but he dumped her and broke her heart, as well as leaving her six months pregnant. It�s hard for her, being a single mother. She�s got a good job as a bookkeeper for an insurance company, though.�

She was, by now, very chatty and offered to give him a lift. He did his best to make her laugh describing the underwhelming B&B he was staying in, and was rewarded when she asked if he would like to have lunch at her flat. Still got it, Josh thought to himself.

Janet�s kitchen was as bland as the rest of the flat. Josh opened the bottle of Merlot and sat at the table with its worn plastic table-cloth while Janet put a frozen bolognese in the microwave and two small baguettes in the air fryer.

�I�ve not had anyone here since I moved in,� she admitted. �I like my own company, but I do sometimes feel like an inmate doing time... I suppose I am in some ways. Bellview houses some horrific bastards, mind. You wouldn�t want to be in the same room with them if you knew what they�d done, but it goes with the job.�

The microwave pinged. Janet removed the bread from the air fryer and got two dinner plates out.

�Not like dining at the Ritz, I know, but help yourself.�

�It smells delicious.� Josh poured them both a second glass of wine and tucked in. When they were finished, Janet made them both mugs of instant coffee.

�So, tell me, why does a big shot New York detective like you want to go round giving talks at shithole prisons over here? Because I can guarantee there won�t be any of the buggers listening. If they turn up at all, it�ll just be an excuse to get out of their cells.�

Josh explained about the horrors of synthetic opioids and the havoc they were wreaking in the US. �If I can do anything to stop it happening here, it�ll be worth my time. Maybe some of them will listen. Can I ask � how many fatalities have occurred in Bellview from fentanyl overdoses?�

�Listen, love, ours OD on heroin, Vicodin, OxyContin and Percocet, and stopping drugs from being smuggled in is a losing battle for prison officers. They�re so short-staffed it�s impossible to do strip-searches and watch the visitors all the time. Some inmates deal drugs, and if they are in a cell 24 hours a day, they have plenty of time to devise clever ways of getting relatives and friends to smuggle the gear in.�

Josh nodded, knowing virtually every prison in the US was in a similar situation. �There is a new drug exploding onto the market you may not have heard of. It�s called xylazine or �tranq�. It�s a veterinary tranquilliser. Dealers are mixing it with fentanyl, methamphetamine, cocaine, and downers. In the US, it�s being found more and more in lab-tested samples of seized heroin and fentanyl. The problem is, it literally eats away your flesh from the inside out, and the only way to stop it from spreading is by amputation.�

�I�ve not come across it. We definitely haven�t had any flesh-eating cases in Bellview yet, thank God.�

�People are even taking xylazine on its own. Being a powerful sedative, it makes them appear physically unresponsive or �zombified�, which leaves them vulnerable on the street. Nalox-one has no effect on it. In fact, there is no approved antidote for a xylazine overdose.�

For the first time, she looked genuinely shocked. �Bloody hell. To be honest, I don�t think we�ve got much of a problem with fentanyl. That said, God only knows what�s coming in.� Janet picked up their empty mugs and took them over to the sink.

�Do you think the staff and inmates at Bellview might listen to me?� he asked.

�Well, the prison doctor, Doctor Zardari, is quite young and inexperienced. I�m sure he could learn a lot from you about these new drugs. And I�m sure the inmates will love that accent of yours... where are you from?�

�Louisiana. But I�ve been in New York for nearly twenty-five years.�

�Married?�

�Divorced a couple of times,� he laughed.

�Any kids?�

�Two girls.� Josh was pleased Janet was asking all these personal questions. It suggested he�d managed to kindle a spark between them. But he still had some questions of his own. �As a matter of interest, do you know who the biggest dealers are in Bellview? I might have encountered them when I worked in London a few years ago on a big drugs case.�

�Drug dealers are always kingpins in prisons, but it�d be a bit unethical of me to name them. No offence, but I don�t want to risk getting into trouble when I�m about to retire and get my pension. I�ve always gone carefully, even when I worked in Holloway.�

Josh knew not to push it. �Sure. Understood. The last thing I want to do is cause you any problems.�

Josh stood up from the table. �Thanks for the delicious lunch, Janet, but I should be getting back to do some work on my talk.�

�Thank Tesco, you mean,� she laughed.

He smiled. �I�d like to take you out for dinner to say thank you properly.�

�Well, we�re short of restaurants around here, but there�s a good Turkish one open on Sundays.�

�That�s a date, then. I�ll come by about seven?�

Janet wiped her hands on a tea-towel, smiling. �I�ll give them a ring and book a table.�

After Josh had left, Janet decided to take a bath, wash her hair, and perhaps even wear it loose, not having done so for years. She went to her bedroom, pulled off her sweater, unzipped her skirt and kicked it to one side. Her underwear had seen better days, and the elastic in her waist-training pants had long gone. She stood in front of her bedroom mirror and wondered what Josh would think if he saw her naked.

�For God�s sake, Janet Williamson,� she said quickly. �Pull yourself together, your imagination is running away with you. Face it, you are well past a time of any man wanting you and have been for twenty years.� She glared at herself, a woman so used to dealing with untrustworthy and frankly disgusting men that she wasn�t used to thinking about a man in that way. She couldn�t even remember the last time she went out on a date.

Josh made it back to his B&B, more than ready for his medication and injection; his leg felt as if it was on fire. He lay on the cramped bed in his awful room, with dreadful flowery wallpaper, and closed his eyes. It would be a lot harder than he thought to do what he planned. Janet was a tough nut to crack, but he needed her. He sighed, knowing he had fucked a lot worse in his life, and if that was what it was going to take, then that was what he would do.

He slept for a few hours before getting ready to meet Janet for dinner. He sprayed some aftershave on his neck and armpits and made his way to Janet�s flat in a taxi, to save his leg. She opened the door, and he stood back admiringly.

�Hey, you scrub up well, Janet... you look lovely.�

She blushed, unable to recall the last time a man paid her a compliment.

They walked to the Turkish restaurant, which was bigger and more modern than Josh expected, and ordered a large mixed grill to share. Janet had brought a photo album to show Josh pictures of her daughter and grandchild and said she couldn�t wait to go and see them, so Josh ordered a bottle of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc to go with the meal.

As they clinked glasses, Janet said she hoped her daughter�s new partner was going to turn out better than the last one.

�What about you, Janet? Are you seeing anyone?� Josh asked.

She laughed. �No, not for years. I�m not interested in a relationship, either.�

�What about Marion�s father?�

�He�s been out of my life for twenty-five years, thank God. I don�t know or care where he is. He was a heavy drinker and used his fists when he�d had a few. The final straw was when he knocked me about in front of Marion... I kicked him out, changed the locks and got two friends of mine working in the prison to beat the shit out of him.�

Josh nodded sympathetically. �Good for you.�

�What about you?� Janet asked.

�Well, like you, I�m single now and ready to retire, but I wanted to make one last-ditch effort to do something good. I believe this country will be overwhelmed with xylazine unless people wake up to the threat. And I don�t just mean the authorities. I want my message to get through to the drug traffickers, particularly the top dogs doing long sentences. If I can get them on my side...�

Janet shrugged her shoulders. �Waste of time, love. They don�t give a damn what happens to the people they sell their drugs to.� She drained her glass which Josh refilled for her. �I should watch it. I�m over my limit already. But it�ll take more than a couple of glasses of wine to get me to tell you who the dealers are.�

Josh waved his hand dismissively, as if that was the last thing on his mind, and they chatted about other things until it was time to get the bill. After paying, he walked her home, wondering if she�d ask him in, but no luck.

�Thanks for a lovely meal,� she said.

�My pleasure. Maybe see you tomorrow when I give my talk.�

Back at his B&B, Josh quickly medicated himself before turning in. He�d hoped to get Janet into bed but in the end was relieved it hadn�t happened. He doubted he could have got an erection. As for his plan, he�d just have to play it by ear the following morning.

Jack was up in the loft on a stepladder with a tape measure, checking if the little wardrobe they�d seen the market would fit in the alcove, when Maggie took the opportunity of mentioning Marius possibly moving in.

Jack shook his head vigorously. �No way. Look, I like Marius, but I don�t think having him move in here is a good idea. Jeez Mags they�re not... you know... are they?�

�Not so loud, and no, Penny said it was a purely platonic relationship. But he�d be useful around the house, and he could drive her around in the van. He might even pay rent.�

�I don�t want him living in. And he�s not all that anyway! I�m going to have to top and tail some of his paint work, and I am very wary of the plumbing; you turn on the shower late at night and it makes a hell of a racket.�

Maggie persisted. �It�s just if we get an au pair or part-time nanny, we will have to pay for it. An au pair could live up here in the loft, though.�

Jack sighed. �Let me talk to Mum about it. I don�t want anyone else living here... So, if we must have someone, it would be best if we got a part-time nanny.�

As Jack measured the space for the chest of drawers they had also purchased, Maggie asked him about another of her concerns.

�Will you be seeing him again?�

Jack zapped his tape measure home as if he�d stopped listening.

�I�m talking about Adam Border. From what Josh said, he sounds like a nasty piece of work. And he�s still on the wanted list for God�s sake.� She thought Jack was going to argue, but instead he said simply, �I have no intention of seeing him again.�

�Good. That�s one thing I don�t have to worry about, then,� she said before going downstairs.

Once she was gone, Jack frowned to himself. He seemed to find lying to Maggie very easy these days.

Jack parked up a street away from the old school, waiting to see if the Mercedes drove out. After fifteen minutes it passed him. He couldn�t get a clear view of the driver, a man wearing dark glasses, but he used his mobile to take a picture of the licence plate.

Driving back to the school, the barrier pole was up, so he was able to drive straight into the empty forecourt, parking beneath the lean-to shelter by the jeep. He looked around for the exit he had used previously, then began walking further around the building and paused by a broken-down bicycle shelter. He moved cautiously around until he could see Adam Border, wearing torn jeans and a T-shirt, hurling broken wooden frames onto a fire.

�Bit early for Bonfire Night, isn�t it?� Jack said, moving closer.

Adam turned towards him, showing no surprise at his appearance.

�I was going to collect some of the stuff I�d bought in the market,� Jack lied, then shrugged, smiling. �They were closed, so it was a wasted journey. Then I remembered you hanging out here.�

Adam nodded and continued stoking the fire. Jack moved closer, watching as wooden frame after frame was set alight.

�Why are you burning all the frames?�

�Not good enough for my use. I only want the authentic period frames. You can give me a hand if you want but mind you don�t get splinters.�

Jack picked up some of the broken frames and tossed them onto the fire. Adam was sweating, his blond hair clinging to his face, and Jack removed his jacket as the fire burnt more fiercely. Adam used an old dirty rag to wipe his face and hands then kicked down the corrugated iron roof to lie on top of the dying fire, placing a large jam jar on the top.

�I�ll need some of the ashes when they�ve cooled down.�

�What do you do with them?�

�Grind them into the canvases to age them. Fancy a cold beer?�

Jack picked up his jacket. �Sounds good.� He followed Adam to the rear entrance and along the corridor, until he opened one of the double doors onto the drill hall. Jack glanced towards the boarded-up window he�d been looking through when he overheard the argument. He stared around the hall.

�Are they pulling this place down because of that old cement that�s been on the news?�

Adam nodded. �That, along with the asbestos, will see the whole place flattened. Two school rooms have collapsed ceilings, and I don�t know how long the drill hall will be safe, to be honest.�

�Built in the fifties, was it?�

Adam turned and looked at him. �What�s with all the questions? Who gives a shit when it was built.�

�Just making conversation.�

Adam walked into the little office room he used beside the kitchen area as Jack stood looking around the large drill hall. He saw the painting Adam had been stamping on earlier and realised it was his own work.

Adam returned with two ice-cold bottles of beer and handed one to Jack. Jack turned to look over the long trestle table, gesturing to a white cardboard box that had a large stone inside cushioned in tissue paper.

�What do you do with that?�

�Lapis Lazuli. Very valuable. In the 13th and 14th centuries it was used to make ultramarine, an intense blue pigment. Titian was famous for using it to show off his wealth, since it was so expensive.� Beside the box was a big stack of used fifty-pound notes, held together with elastic bands. A mobile rang with a strange musical ringtone. Adam casually tossed a rag over the money as he searched for his phone. Eventually he found it hidden buy a stack of old books, snatched it up and took it into the kitchen.

Moments later, Jack heard him laugh. �Great. That�s terrific news.� He came back out, smiling, and gestured to three framed canvases draped with a white sheet.

�I have to get them ready to be shipped out as soon as possible. We�ve got buyers in China and the U.S. Do you want to see them?�

Jack nodded. �What�s your ringtone, Adam? It sorts of sticks in your head.�

�Ah yes, it�s the Harry Lime theme from The Third Man. Orson Welles� brilliant movie set in Vienna. Now stand back while I line these up for you.�

Jack watched as Adam carefully removed the old sheet and stood the three paintings against the wall.

�These are Modiglianis. Most of his portraits are kind of flat, very simple in style, making him a favourite among forgers.�

Jack stood in front of the three seemingly identical paintings depicting a woman with slanting eyes.

�What do you think?�

�They all look the same.�

�If I were to tell you one of them is authentic, which one would you say it was?�

Jack bent down to look closer, moving from one to the other. �Is it this one?� He gestured to the painting in the middle.

�Excellent, Jack. You�ve got a very good eye. Now I�ve got work to do, crating them up.�

�Do you want a hand?�

�Why not. The crates are stacked in the room off the corridor.� Together they carried back the wooden crates, just an inch larger in all measurements than the paintings themselves. They were laid out flat on the floor as Adam went over to the table and opened a box full of labels, all different sizes. He picked out several, placing them to one side, close to a bowl of brown liquid. �Cold tea,� he said. �I use it to age them.� There was also a large drawing pad, next to a bottle of ink and a handful of quill pens. Jack turned a page on the pad. It was covered in signatures. Hundreds of them.

�That�s my homework; I do fifty to a hundred every night. Recognise any of them?�

�Not sure. Yeah, this is Leonardo da Vinci.�

�You are learning fast, Jack. Turn to an empty page, go on, keep going.�

Jack found the empty page as Adam picked up a black sleeping mask. He slipped it on as far as his forehead and drew up a stool. Adam chose a quill and dipped it in a pot of ink, then pulled the sleeping mask down over his eyes.

Fascinated, Jack watched as Adam, after a moment�s thought, fluently made a signature, then quickly two more, before removing the mask.

�Pretty good huh? Forgeries are often caught out because they copy letter by letter, so it doesn�t flow. I�ve done this since I was a kid.�

�I�m impressed.�

Adam grinned. �That�s nothing. Take a look at this.� He drew Jack over to an easel and pulled off the sheet. Underneath it was a half-finished canvas depicting an exotic-looking dark-haired woman, shimmering with inlaid gold sections. Adam then went over to the table and gestured for Jack to look over a stack of clippings. All referred to a painting by Gustav Klimt which had been found on his easel when he died and eventually sold for eighty-three million pounds. Jack recognised the woman�s face from the painting he had just seen.

�What are you going to do with it when it�s finished?� Jack asked.

�Wait a bit, then switch them,� Adam laughed.

�What about your own paintings?� Jack asked.

It was as if he�d flicked a switch. Adam�s whole personality suddenly changed as his body tensed. He strode across the floor, picked up the painting Jack had seen through the crack in the window and hurled it across the room with such force it crashed against a wall. Not satisfied, Adam went over and kicked what was left of the frame.

�Let me tell you, it�s just a question of time before I prove what I am capable of. No matter the cost.�

�What do you...?�

Adam pulled himself together, clearly realising he had almost revealed too much. �You should go and let me get on.� He started sorting through labels as if Jack wasn�t there.

�Thanks for the beer,� Jack said, turning to go.

Adam didn�t reply.

In the end, Jack and Maggie didn�t talk about Adam again that night. They�d simply shared a bottle of wine, talked about nothing important and then headed to bed. Neither of them had actively decided to avoid the subject; they were just fed up of arguing.

It was gone midnight as Maggie lay in the curve of his body, his arms around her waist. Maggie felt more content than she had for a long time.

�I do love you, Jack, and I�m sorry if I sounded like a pain in the arse earlier. It�s just that I was worried. I know I�ve been a bit over the top. I thought it could be baby blues... that was part of my stress for a while.�

Jack didn�t reply although she knew he was listening because his thumb stroked her forearm. He just let her talk. �Recently, you�ve not been sleeping too badly and have been more like your old self, so it could be really good for you to return to work. It feels like we�ve turned a corner. Especially now the building work is finished.�

�Just promise me no more extensions or walls being knocked down,� he said.

Maggie laughed. �I promise the dining room arch can wait.� She pulled Jack�s arm tighter around her. �I�m really looking forward to going back to work. Penny will have her help, you and I will be earning again. It�s all coming together, Jack.�

Jack reached out to turn off his bedside light as Maggie turned around to face him.

�So, isn�t it a bit unwise for you to go and meet up with this Adam Border again?� In the darkness, she could feel him tense.

�Mags, it�s over. I�m not getting involved again.�

�You got involved again by going to see him. Please don�t get angry, Jack. I�m just trying to understand. Isn�t he just an art forger?�

Jack tossed the duvet aside and moved to the end of the bed. �Do you know who Gustav Klimt is?�

�I think I�ve heard of him,� she said dubiously.

�They found a finished painting on his easel called Lady with a Fan. In June 2003 it sold for eighty-five million. When I was in Adam�s studio at the school, he showed me these cuttings about the painting and the auction and then he goes over to one of the easels and whips off the sheet like a magician... and there�s the painting.�

�What, the real one?�

�No, a fake. But he said he�s going to switch it for the eighty-five million job.�

�Surely they�ll spot it,� Maggie said dubiously.

Jack warmed to his theme. �Adam reckons that in every gallery around the world, fifty per cent of the paintings are fake, even more with old masters.�

Maggie was taken aback. �And that�s what Adam is doing, faking old masters?�

Jack couldn�t hide his enthusiasm. �Yes, he�s collecting old canvases, frames and even nails. He�s got boxes of them from different centuries, and when I was over there earlier today, he was burning frames in a bonfire. When I left, he had a jar to collect the ashes, which he was going to use to age the canvases.�

�Bloody hell, Jack, can you hear yourself? He�s faking paintings, and you seem to admire him. You should walk away as fast as you can. What if he�s not as smart as you think? What if people do know he�s back and he�s being watched? You could be caught up in what he�s doing.�

Jack sighed. �You still don�t understand... I�ll be right back, don�t go to sleep.� As he hurried out of the bedroom, Maggie lay back and closed her eyes. She felt herself dropping off. She jumped when Jack barged back into the bedroom with his laptop.

�I was looking at stuff on the internet with him and it got me Googling for myself... honestly Mags, when you start to look at it, you�ll be amazed�. He got into bed beside her and propped the laptop between them. He opened an article about fakes and famous artists. At first Maggie just wanted to tell him she�d look at it in the morning, but after reading a couple of paragraphs she quickly got sucked in.

�This one, Tom Keating: can you believe he faked over two thousand paintings by over two hundred artists. He even did a Rembrandt. And look at the next guy, John Myatt. He�s done Chagall and Giacometti, and look... here�s his copy of a Matisse with the real one beside it.�

�OK, I�m impressed.�

Jack smiled as he returned to the screen. �I thought you would be.�

�No... I�m impressed with you. Listen to yourself reeling off artists� names as if you�ve been an expert all your life.�

Jack grinned. �Look at this guy, he�s Dutch and got fed up with critics dismissing his artistic ability so decided he�d show them up by faking a Vermeer. He was going to admit it was his work but then decided to fuck them all by painting six more. He sold them worldwide for around sixty million dollars.�

Maggie was properly hooked now, looking at the photographs of famous fakes as Jack scrolled down through the article. �OK, now look at this guy�s work, Modigliani. Just as I was about to leave tonight, Border showed me three identical paintings. He asked me which one was the original, and it was almost impossible to tell them apart, but I said I thought it was the one in the middle, and guess what? I was right.�

�How much is it worth?�

�Hang on.� Jack did a quick search. �Bloody hell, the original would set you back millions. Adam�s dealer rang while I was there, and I think he said they were all sold. I helped him get them ready to be shipped.�

Maggie laughed. �So my policeman husband has been helping an art forger pack up his fakes!� She lay back and closed her eyes. �Right, I really am going to sleep now. Maybe when I wake up I�ll find this has all been a dream.�

The next morning, after another peaceful night, Jack woke up feeling refreshed and energised. After a quick shower he went into his office and spent the morning looking at videos about forgers and ordering books from Amazon, along with The Third Man DVD. At 11 a.m. he wandered down to the empty kitchen, dressed in old jeans and a T-shirt, as he was expecting Marius to drive them to collect the larger pieces of furniture for the loft.

Maggie got back from her run with a sleeping Charlie in his pram to find Jack eating a bacon and egg sandwich and wondering where the hell Marius was.

�Oh, yeah. I forgot to say. He had a problem with his van. He�ll call you when it�s fixed. Sorry.�

�Oh, right.� Jack pretended to be disappointed, thinking he could go back to his office to watch more videos.

�And me and your mum are interviewing some cleaners this afternoon,� Maggie added.

�Daisy had eight puppies last night!� Penny shouted from the hallway, closing the front door behind her. She came into the kitchen, taking off her coat. �Ah, they are cute, Jack. You should have seen Hannah�s face light up at the sight of them.�

�No way,� Jack said as he forced his breakfast plate into an already full dishwasher. �There�s quite enough going on here without getting a puppy.�

Penny wasn�t quite ready to give up though. �It�s a Labradoodle. The poodle side means they are very clever. Mind you, the Labrador side can mean they�re also boisterous.�

�I don�t care what breed it is. We are not having one. You need to make sure Hannah knows it, Mum. No umming and ah-ing or she�ll talk you round.�

�I�m afraid Jack�s right,� Maggie said.

Jack wrapped his arms around her. �You see, we agree on something. I�ll disappear when you two start interviewing the cleaners unless you need me to do anything.�

Maggie hugged him back. �You can make me a nice cup of coffee.� She surprised him by adding in a whisper, �Then I�d like to sit with you in your office and watch one of those art fraud videos.�

He grinned. �You go up and I�ll bring your coffee.�

Janet was discussing Middleton with Doctor Zardari.

�Do you think he was trying to commit suicide?� Dr Zardari asked.

She shook her head. �Accidental overdose, I reckon. Men like him are too narcissistic to kill themselves.�

Dr Zardari sighed heavily. �And where�s this stuff coming from?�

Janet�s face gave nothing away. �Good God, smuggling�s rife. Visitors bring all sorts in, hidden in all sorts of places! It�ll be happening right under our noses.� Janet didn�t need to dissuade Zardari from the idea of someone smuggling drugs in for Middleton, as long as he never imagined it could be her. In truth, Janet knew that the perfect scapegoat was already in the mix.

Amanda Dunn had spent two months in Holloway for a minor offence. She was bullied throughout her stay and had come to Janet to be patched up on a couple of occasions. She quickly saw that Amanda was weak, easily manipulated and destined to make terrible mistake after terrible mistake. Regardless, she always had hopeful eyes. This is what Janet recognised through the disguise she wore when visiting Middleton. Here she was again, doing the bidding of a murderer. If they thought someone else was involved in Middleton�s death, it wouldn�t be Janet they homed in on. It would be Amanda.

Janet looked at her watch. She was on early evening duty, delivering medication from their secure annexe, and the prisoners were starting to line up in the corridor before, one by one, they came to the small security booth, protected by a Perspex screen with an open stainless-steel section for the medication to be passed through in small paper cups. The evening deliveries often ended in violent arguments as prisoners complained that their dosages of painkillers had been lowered, or they were no longer being prescribed sleeping tablets.

Janet was ready for Middleton with his cup containing the weaker painkillers prescribed since his �overdose�.

�Rodney, we�re putting you on a lower dose of the same medication to see how it deals with your back pain. If it doesn�t help, then you will need an appointment to see the doctor tomorrow.�

Middleton kicked the base of the booth and the officer standing by took a step closer.

�You take these for tonight, Rodney, and see how you go.� Janet passed him the small paper cup containing two large white capsules, then handed him a paper cone-shaped cup with water. She watched Middleton tip the capsules into his mouth, sip the water and then open his mouth and lift his tongue to show they�d been swallowed.

�Thank you, Rodney.�

Middleton leered at her before he turned away to be taken back to his cell. The next prisoner stepped up, and Janet continued dishing out the meds. She would be off duty in another few hours, knowing that Josh would call for an update as he always did each evening. Just thinking about him made her come out in a sweat, but so far, it was going to plan. She had five more days to slowly up the dosage before administering the fatal one.

Jack spent Saturday morning painting the bookcases in the loft extension and finishing off some areas that needed another coat of emulsion.

Gladys, with the extraordinary hair extensions, came by for coffee, to get to know Jack and Hannah. Penny showed her round the house and gave her a run-down of what was expected when she started work on Monday, then showed her how to use all of the appliances.

In the afternoon, Marius and Jack went back to the market to check whether the right-sized mattress had come in and were soon hefting it back to the van. Marius said he would like to check on a stall selling some second-hand electrical tools, particularly a paint stripper, and Jack agreed to meet him back at the van in twenty minutes. Once alone, Jack hurriedly returned to the framer�s. The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear an angry exchange from inside. Jack eased himself behind the woman selling vintage dolls, to be less conspicuous as he listened.

�You�re supposed to be taking the crates to Southampton. You got paid upfront, so don�t give me your bullshit excuses. If we miss the delivery, that�ll be another week lost... All right, let me close up and I�ll get on the road. There�s no need for you to come here threatening me. Lugging that fucking cross here nearly broke me back, so you tell him that whatever he�s going to be using it for, it�s not going to be me that moves it again.�

Jack pressed himself against the wall as the door banged open. A handsome black man wearing an elegant fur-collared leather coat, his hair swept back from his face, walked out. Jack could smell his cologne from where he was standing. Jack waited until he was out of sight before stepping into the shop, just as the thuggish man was about to close the door.

�I�ve got the measurements for the frame I was looking for,� Jack said.

�Sorry mate, we�re closing.�

�It�ll only take a minute,� Jack said with his best winning smile.

�Come on then, I�ll give you sixty seconds. Then I�m closing up.�

Jack stepped around the cross to a stack of frames heaped on a cabinet. The man went into the back room, and Jack picked up a small gilt frame � then noticed a stack of envelopes on the side of the cabinet. Without thinking, he slipped one into his jacket just as the man returned. He snatched up the envelopes and stuffed them into a leather shoulder bag.

�Stupid bastard forgot them,� he muttered.

Jack held up the frame.

�Ten quid, lowest I can do.�

Jack shrugged, shaking his head. �Not worth more than a fiver.�

The man had no time for bartering. �Time�s up, mate.� He grabbed the frame, tossing it back onto the pile, then walked towards Jack, forcing him backwards and out of the door. Jack heard the bolts being drawn across from inside. Then the sign flipped from �open� to �closed�.

The prison staff had organised a farewell drinks party for Janet at the local pub that evening. She had been on duty all day and was touched by the surprise announcement. Another few days and she�d have served her time... then she�d be off to New Zealand. But she couldn�t start to relax yet; she still hadn�t quite fulfilled her part of the deal made with Josh. Sachet eight would have to be administered today.

Arriving home after her shift, she spent time clearing away her drug equipment, taking everything that could be incriminating and dumping it all in a bin two streets away. She then changed into a smart black cocktail dress before joining everyone at the local pub. They had taken a small room above the main bar. A wobbly trellis table brimmed with wine and titbits, and all available staff had gathered to thank Janet for her work at the prison. They had all chipped in and bought her a silk scarf as a farewell gift. As she had a glass of wine and chatted about New Zealand, for a second she almost forgot what she had done.

Just after shift change on the affectionately named �nonce wing�, the night officer, Don, did his rounds, peering into every cell through the door hatch to make sure everyone was alive and well. As normal, most were reading, sleeping or masturbating. Middleton, however, was seated on the edge of his bed, bent forwards with his head between his knees and his knuckles dragging on the cell floor.

Don smirked. �Trying to give yourself a blowie, Rodney? Oi, Middleton, stop mucking about and get in bed. Now!� When Middleton didn�t respond, Don called for a second officer. The cell door was opened and they entered, again instructing Middleton to do as he was told. Losing patience, Don pushed hard on his shoulders to make him sit up, but he rocked back, frozen in that grotesque shape, hitting his head hard on the cell wall before coming to rest on his side, head still between his knees and his hands down by the side of his feet, his fingers frozen in claws. They could now see bloodstains on the thighs of his trousers. �Jesus, what the fuck�s wrong with him?�

As the Governor stepped up to make his speech, Janet downed her umpteenth glass of wine.

�Janet, love. What can I say? Our loss is New Zealand�s gain.� His speech continued in the same meaningless vain, mainly because he�d never actually met Janet and didn�t know anything about her.

After he�d finished and everyone could thankfully go back to drinking, a call came through from one of the on-duty officers, requesting Doctor Zardari return to the prison. As he passed, Janet asked what had happened. �I don�t know,� Zardari smiled. �But the prisoners are no longer your responsibility. You forget about them and enjoy your night.�

It was ten thirty and Jack was just pulling into his driveway when his mobile rang. It was Laura: �Are you up for a drink?� But it didn�t sound like a casual invitation or like he really had a choice. Penny had seen Jack�s headlights and was now standing in the open doorway, smiling. He opened his car door and held his mobile in the air.

�Laura needs to speak to me. I�ll be an hour, tops.� Penny waved her understanding then went back indoors.

They sat in a corner booth of a pub not far from Jack�s house. He had ordered a gin and tonic for Laura and a half pint for himself. �OK, out with it, what�s up?�

She hesitated, sipping her drink before she began. �You know I said Josh could stay over on his way back to New York, and you said he could always stay with you. Well, I�m a bit concerned as I had a date on the night he wanted to stay over, so I tried to contact him via the drug squad. I spoke to Dave, the detective involved in that huge drug case, the one at the big house in Kingston. You remember him?�

Jack frowned. It sounded as if she thought he�d lost the ability to recall anything. �Yeah, of course, I remember. That case was how we met Josh.�

Laura nodded. �I asked Dave if Josh was back in London and he didn�t know what I was talking about. He hasn�t seen him for ages. When I mentioned he was doing this lecture tour of prisons, talking about the flood of fentanyl coming into the UK, Dave said it was news to him; maybe something Josh had organised with his US drug unit. He also told me that Josh was retired.�

�He mentioned that to me. I think he said he�s semi-retired on medical grounds: you know, with his leg.�

�What else did he tell you?�

Jack shrugged, having no idea where this was all going. �Not a lot. We had a few drinks. Caught up. He left early the following morning.�

�From what Dave said, I got the impression Josh is very sick. He was not that forthcoming but said he was told Josh was having major mental health issues. Apparently, his youngest son went to San Francisco a few years ago. Josh found him on the streets, but it was too late. He was addicted to fentanyl and this new xylazine drug they call tranq.�

Jack was shocked. �He never mentioned anything about his son.�

�Today I tried to talk to the New York drug team I knew Josh worked with, but they didn�t say much; protecting their own, I guess. But I got the impression he was actually forced to retire, because he�d become obsessed with tracking down his son�s dealers, like some sort of vigilante.�

Jack shook his head. �He never said a word about any of that to me. God, it makes me feel terrible. Going on about my own problems.�

�I tried to catch you at the station but Armani�s had us doing different stuff all day. Jack, I saw a memo on DCI Clarke�s computer screen when I was in there collecting a file... his emails were just open, and it pinged through as I was right there. Well, when something pings, you look, don�t you? This is hot off the press, Jack.�

�About Josh?�

�Rodney Middleton was found dead in his cell. They�ve only just completed the postmortem. It was a fentanyl overdose, but they also discovered he had been taking this new drug, xylazine. And he had open wounds on his body. It�s terrifying because they don�t heal and, when someone ODs, they can�t use naloxone to reverse it.�

Jack was speechless, hardly able to comprehend what Laura had just told him. But he straightened out fast when she asked him if he knew if Josh had been at the prison Middleton was in. Laura drained her glass and sat twisting the stem.

�There�s more, Jack... they have Amanda Dunn in custody, suspected of supplying the fatal dosage.�

�You are joking!� Jack barked, before checking his volume. �I thought she was inside for her part in the murders. She was his girlfriend for God�s sake.�

�She got a year. But as she had been held in custody before the trial and then turned Queen�s evidence, she was only inside for six months. She did have orders not to contact or fraternise with Middleton, but of course they checked all his visitors once he�d OD�d and there she was � wig, fake tan, contacts to change her eye colour. Signed in as a Gail Leadbetter, a paralegal from the firm of solicitors representing Middleton. So she�s been rearrested. I don�t have all the facts, but they found drugs in her B&B and in her handbag and coat pockets I think.�

Jack was shaking his head, trying to take it all in.

�Do you know which prisons Josh was supposedly visiting?� Laura asked.

�How the hell would I know?� Jack responded angrily, then checked himself. �I�m sorry Laura, this is hard for me to take in, but I don�t like you inferring that I was privy to whatever Josh was up to...� He hesitated, then lied. �I never discussed Rodney Middleton with him.�

Laura sighed and bit her lip. �I think I did. In fact, I think I showed him a file I had on Middleton, newspaper cuttings and stuff.� She was becoming upset. �Jack, I think the best thing is for neither of us to mention any contact we�ve had with Josh. Walk away from it... it�s nothing to do with us. And anyway, Rodney Middleton was a vicious killer of innocent young girls who deserves what he got. And I�ll be glad if that precious lying girlfriend of his goes down again, too.�

Although he offered to get another round in, it was obvious they both wanted to end the evening. Laura even refused a lift to the nearest tube station, preferring to walk. Outside the pub, he gave her a hug.

�If you still have any files on Middleton at home, get rid of them. Like you said, we walk away from this. It�s over.�

On his way home, Jack slowly went over the evening he�d spent with Josh. He remembered the stash of drugs Josh had in his medical bag. He also thought about how long he had talked to Josh about the Middleton trial. But by the time he arrived home, he no longer felt any anxiety, and a new emotion had taken its place: relief.

That afternoon, Jack got stuck into the pile of files on his desk relating to Armani�s gang war. After three hours of concerted reading, Laura passed his desk and saw what he was doing.

�She�s brought you in on this now then?�

�Yep. And I�d better stay in.�

�Jack Warr, that sounded like a threat.� Laura sat down next to him.

Jack slid his chair closer to Laura, so their knees touched beneath the desk.

�You know that domestic she sent me on.� Laura nodded. �Detective Sergeant Armani was the investigating and interviewing officer in an assault case against George Barras five years ago. It�s got to be DI Armani before she was promoted.�

�There might be another Armani in the Met.�

�The report is full of psychology and profiling jargon... it�s her. The odd thing is that it�s incomplete; missing key details I�d normally expect.�

�That�s not like her... she�s normally boringly thorough with her reports.�

�I knew something was up when she sent me to interview Maria Barras, and I�m going to find out what it is.�

Laura nudged Jack when Armani appeared behind him. �Well, here you both are again, whispering in corners. I�d prefer you to concentrate on the gang war case and the list of suspects I asked you to look through, if it�s not too much trouble.�

Jack flushed with anger but controlled himself. �I was just asking Laura if she could recommend any of the new young probationers to assist me.�

Armani frowned, then nodded. �You can use the boardroom for a briefing. They are all very keen and have been carefully selected; they should be of particular value for the case in question. I hope it will be beneficial, as your performance since your return to work has not particularly impressed me so far.�

�Yes, Ma�am.� He wanted to tell her to fuck off but knew it would be better to bide his time until he�d discovered whatever she was hiding from her past. For now, Jack was just glad to be on board with the meatier operation of gang wars.

The meeting in the boardroom started with Jack introducing himself to the six new officers DI Armani had brought onto the team. They were five strapping lads and a young woman he�d seen showing signs of nerves in the canteen. Jack linked his laptop to the digital whiteboard to show images of the known and suspected gang members. Ranging in age from twelve to their early twenties, and mostly males, they had previous convictions for assault, robbery, possession of an offensive weapon and drug offences. Some were known to police but had no convictions. Jack had just brought up the picture of the suspected leader of one notorious local gang when Armani entered the room. The young officers all stood up. She crossed the room, stood beside Jack, and addressed them.

�I will oversee this operation, and DS Warr will be my deputy supervising officer.� Jack tried to mask his delight with a blank expression. �I know that none of you have ever worked on this division before, but that is why I selected you all.� The young officers looking at each other with confused expressions. �You have been selected for your ethnicity. This operation is about learning as much as possible about two rival gangs operating in our division. Some of you will infiltrate the community and covertly gather information about the young men and women on the list so we can identify which gangs they belong to and who the ring-leaders are. We need to know as much about them as possible: where they live, who their parents are, what street corners they frequent etcetera. Others of you will speak with headteachers at the local schools and find out who�s been expelled or is a regular truant... these kids are so easily sucked into gang life. Find out who the weaker members are, as they may have been enticed into a gang and be a useful source of information. Check out and photograph all local graffiti... identifying a tag to a name on the list of suspected members will help us to identify who�s who and hopefully identify others not yet on the list.�

The young officers remained attentive, and the glint in their eyes revealed how pleased they were to be part of the team.

�Kids as young as twelve are being used as drug runners. They deal in any and all drugs, from feeding local junkies to supplying high-end parties.� Armani�s tone became more serious. �I want you to understand that any drugs on my streets are unacceptable. Cannabis and Skunk are class B, but they still kill people. Get behind the wheel of a car with that in your system, with the paranoia and hallucinations, and the reactions of a snail, you get the picture. Your job is not to arrest the couriers or dealers; it�s to work covertly and gather information to build the bigger picture. Then we�ll regroup, move to phase two, and take the ringleaders off the streets, disrupting the gang�s way of life.�

Jack was impressed with her knowledge and the confident way she spoke, underlining the need for them to be totally covert. This also kept them as safe as possible. No challenges, no confrontations. He knew that once the �bigger picture� was complete, search warrants would be obtained for simultaneous early morning home raids, followed by the arrest, interview and charging of as many of the gang members as possible. The only problem, as Josh had told him, was that dealing and drug-taking was as rife inside prison as it was in the outside world.

Maggie was delighted with the chest of drawers but not that keen on the rug. Having lugged it up to the loft, Jack would have been annoyed, but he was more concerned with finding out what had happened at the framer�s shop.

He went downstairs to his office and brought up the latest local news on his laptop. There was a video of what looked like a hectic scene with forensics and uniforms going in and out, but, frustratingly, no further details.

Jack went down to the kitchen to make a coffee. Penny was tucking Charlie into his pushchair, ready to take him to the park with Hannah, as Marius stirred some paint outside the kitchen with a stick. Maggie gave Jack one of her sour looks then said, in that flat tone of voice he hated, �Don�t worry about painting the chest, Jack. We are doing it, so there�s no need for you to bother yourself!�

�Fine,� Jack retorted. �I need to go out. I won�t be long.�

�Please yourself,� she said. Jack grabbed the car keys as Penny opened the front door and pushed the pram out.

�It would be nice if you took Charlie out with Hannah one day. She really loves the swings,� Penny remarked.

�Tomorrow, I�ll take them both out tomorrow,� Jack said, squeezing past her.

In the car he began to feel bad and thought about going back to apologise but then thought better of it. He�d buy his mum a bunch of flowers instead. He decided to drive to Adam Border�s abandoned school to see if he knew what had happened in the framer�s shop.

There were police cordons blocking his usual route, so he did a detour using Waze. When he arrived at the school, the barrier was down, and it looked as if demolition had started on the smaller outer buildings. The lean-to shelter had gone, the bike shed and toilets had been flattened, and Jack, unable to lift the barrier, had to park on the road.

He made his way round the rear of the building to the double doors he had used previously. There was a no entry sign and a double chain was padlocked through the door handles. He went round to the rear of the building to find many of the windows were broken and some had been boarded up. Jack stood on some crates and carefully knocked out the broken shards before climbing through a window.

The kitchen had been stripped of anything of value, even the cupboard doors, and there was no electricity. Rubbish had been left in plastic bags and old coffee cups and takeaway food cartons were everywhere as he made his way towards the drill hall. It had been stripped bare. The vast room was desolate, but he could still make out the lingering smell of oil paint and terps. There was nothing: Adam�s clothes, his sleeping bag and blankets had all gone. Just a layer of old dirty newspapers remained, which Jack guessed he�d probably used as insulation beneath his sleeping bag.

Jack made his way back to his car. He recalled the time he had instructed the Gardai to search the studio in Ireland for Adam. He was told there was nothing left, not even fingerprints. It was as if Adam Border had never been there. It was the same here. And the entire building would soon be flattened.

He started the car, did a U-turn, and headed back down the road. He tried to work out when he�d last seen Adam. Surely he wouldn�t just have disappeared without a word? Unless something had happened that forced him to clear out quickly. But he would have needed more than just the jeep to move everything out: all the paintings, the table and frames, not to mention his equipment. Jack thought he might come back when the workmen were present to see what he could find out.

It was after eleven when Jack arrived home. Maggie had left his dinner covered with cling film on the top of the oven. He wolfed down the congealed roast beef with soggy roast potatoes and veg before opening a bottle of wine. He filled two glasses and headed up to the bedroom. He elbowed the door open, relieved to see Maggie sitting up in bed reading Eric Hebborn�s The Art Forger�s Handbook. She lowered it as he slunk into the room.

�This had better be good Jack, and I don�t want some lengthy excuse. Just get straight to the nitty-gritty.�

He handed her the glass of wine and took a long slug of his own before coming to sit beside her. �This is going to be hard to believe. Sorry, but I have to begin back when Marius and I went to Portobello Road and saw the frame shop was a crime scene. Because of my association with the place, and obviously with Adam, I kept my distance, right?�

�Jack, you told me this earlier.� Maggie closed her eyes and leaned back on the pillow as Jack continued. He finally got to the crime itself. �Crucified! Are you serious?�

�Yes, but he is, or was, still alive. So next I discovered from the registration of Adam�s Jeep, and a bit of searching on Google Earth, that it was associated with a rented property in Haslemere. That�s where I�ve been; a sumptuous bloody property leased by Adam and his girlfriend. She was pretty sumptuous as well.�

�You mean he wasn�t living at that school hall place?� Jack nodded. He then told her all about his conversation with Helga. Then he went into the bathroom, cleaned his teeth, got into his PJs and joined her in bed to finish his wine.

�There is one thing I need to Google in the morning. Something Helga said about a radiocarbon technique that tells the ages of paintings... whatever it is, it made Adam freak out. She said she didn�t understand, and I don�t either, but I�ll research it tomorrow.�

Maggie turned off her bedside light and Jack did the same. �So this gorgeous woman just accepts being picked up and droppedwhenever he feels like it? I don�t believe it.�

�Well, look how he drew me in. There�s something about him, Mags.�

�I�ve listened to you going on about him,� Maggie said, �and I must admit you had me convinced, too, but to me there was always something untrustworthy there. I mean, I know I never met him, but I can tell there�s something evil about him. I can almost feel it, even if you can�t. And you only have her word for it that he was not in London. You need to be very careful. I mean, how many times have you been in and out of that framer�s shop? And the school. God forbid anyone finds a connection between you and him. Do you know which hospital the victim was taken to?�

Jack was fast asleep. She looked at him and sighed. She sometimes felt so protective of him, more than she probably should. At least he was sleeping these days; it had been a while since he�d had a nightmare or fallen out of the bed. As she drifted off to sleep, she tried to pinpoint what Jack found so fascinating about Adam. She decided that it was his knowledge, his passion, his cunning. All attributes Jack showed in his policework when his mind was in the right place. Suddenly the Harry Lime theme tune started up in her head. That bloody film! As the plot ran through her weary mind, she wondered if it was a sign... a message even. Was Adam playing some sort of twisted game with Jack?

Maggie was lying on the bed, reading the last few pages of Eric Hebborn�s The Art Forger�s Handbook. She was shocked when she read that the renowned forger had been murdered in Italy. No one had ever been charged with his murder, and there were rumours that the Italian Mafia were responsible, as he had sold many fake masterpieces to prominent Mafia-connected individuals.

Maggie was so engrossed in thought that she jumped when Jack walked in and clapped his hands. �The painting is complete. It should be dry by the morning. Let�s have a takeaway. Chinese? Peking crispy duck and those lovely fried prawns?�

�Sounds pretty good to me.�

�I�ll check with Penny and see if Princess would like some fried rice and crackers.�

Maggie put the book down and got off the bed. She could hear Jack laughing upstairs as she went to splash cold water on her face. She decided not to mention what she�d just been reading about, not wanting to puncture Jack�s good mood. But she couldn�t help thinking about Adam Border.

The family evening was relaxed, with Marius joining them to play poker, using dominoes, marbles and the cards from the Happy Families pack instead of money.

Later, Maggie left them to go and settle Hannah and Charlie. After reading them a story and giving Charlie his night feed, she rejoined everyone in the kitchen. Penny was eagerly counting her winnings, having won the biggest pot yet. Jack and Marius shared a smile, having just let her win. They were about to play another hand when Jack�s mobile rang. He picked it up from the table � Laura.

Jack quickly showed Maggie the screen. �Sorry, guys. Got to drop out of the next hand.� He went to his office and sat at his desk. �Hi, Laura.� She started talking but he was having difficulty making out what she was saying. �Are you pissed?�

�Not as much as Morrison,� she said.

�He�s such a cheapskate. I thought he might offer to buy me dinner, but he only bought a bag of peanuts all evening. He ordered double vodkas every time it was my round and got me singles when it was his! After the fourth round, it was just tonics for me but not him, so he was well pissed.�

�Did you get any new information?� Jack asked, trying not to sound impatient.

�Not that much. He was very cagey. They still have no ID, but the fella�s not in good shape. They found no clothes that would help to identify him as he was bollock naked. No paperwork, no official documents, just a few receipts. They did get the name of the bloke that runs the place though.�

�Did they arrest him?�

�What?�

�You said they got someone that ran the shop.�

�Oh, right, yes. I had to be a bit careful, Jack, you know, not give away why I was interested, but eventually he said they�d picked him up in some bar. Claimed he�d been in Southampton and didn�t know anything about it. Said he was just a hired hand who collected all the frames and he�d never actually met the owner. Oh, got paid in cash and not always by the same person and the cross was apparently used at S&M parties. You ever been to one of them, Jack?�

�Can�t say that I have. Did they arrest this guy?�

�They did, but he was released when his alibi checked out. He�ll be back in for further questioning though; Mr Norman O�Reilly has a sheet as long as my arm. He�s done time for armed robbery, GBH, assault with a deadly weapon, handling stolen property, you name it. I checked him out.�

�OK, that�s all very interesting. Thanks, Laura. Like you said, I owe you big.� Jack ended the call and pulled up the records on Norman O�Reilly as Maggie tapped on the door.

�Did Laura get anything useful?�

�Yeah, they still have no ID on the victim, but they arrested this guy, Norman O�Reilly. Apparently, he has a firmed-up alibi but remains, as they say, a person of interest. He�s the nasty piece of work I met at the shop: long record, spent more time in the nick than out of it, but claims not to know who owns the lease or buys the frames.�

Maggie leaned in to look at the mugshot of the bullish face holding up his ID and number. �I hope you can trust her, Jack. I mean, if she was drunk when she called you, I worry she was loose-lipped with this detective she was drinking with.�

Jack put his arm around her shoulders as they walked out. �I�ll know more in the morning. I�m on the early shift.�

�So am I. God, I�m knackered,� she said yawning.

�I suppose a fuck�s out of the question?�

Maggie laughed. �I didn�t say that.�

The station was unusually busy. Jack had arrived early to have breakfast in the canteen and hopefully catch Laura and check she was keeping her lips sealed. Today, the canteen queue seemed to go on forever as a large number of officers had been brought in for a major briefing in the boardroom. Apparently DI Armani and her team of probationary officers had gathered a lot of new information relating to gang members and their families over the weekend.

Jack had a memo left on his desk with a detailed report of the weekend�s results and instructions to familiarise himself with the contents. He�d only glanced at it before taking off his jacket and going to the canteen. Returning to the incident room, Jack saw Laura, looking very hungover, flicking through a similar memo.

�Morning Laura, you look like you need a coffee.�

�I�ve already had three and I�ve still got a terrible headache. I blame you, Jack.�

�What is going on? All these extra uniforms in the canteen and a big briefing this morning.�

�Things have been moving at quite a pace over the weekend. The probationers are knackered. They�ve been on rotation, 24-7.�

DI Armani, wearing a very smart tailored suit and carrying a stack of files, appeared at the door. �Five minutes before we kick off, everyone, please be prompt. We have a lot to discuss this morning.� She headed in the direction of DCI Clarke�s office.

Jack was taken aback by the amount of information on display: photographs, addresses and other personal details and criminal record sheets took up three large whiteboards. Chairs had been arranged around the table, and more lined the walls. The room began to fill up. With a packet of paracetamol and a cup of coffee in her hand, Laura sat beside Jack.

�My God, they have been busy,� she said. �Glad it was my weekend off.�

Soon, the available chairs at the table had been taken, so the remaining uniformed officers had to stand against the wall. DI Armani entered, the door held open by DCI Clarke. She took off her jacket, putting the file on the table in front of her. She picked up a pointer stick as DCI Clarke took one of two reserved seats at the front of the room. She did not need to ask for everyone�s attention. The room had gone silent as soon as she entered.

�Firstly, I would like to thank our terrific group of probationary detectives who worked the weekend to gain a good deal of valuable information about these two warring gangs that have dominated the area for far too long.�

Using her pointer stick, she indicated board one.

�These are all the known members of the ZRDO gang, with photographs and, where possible, personal details and police records. These are the names of members still at school. The second board lists all the crew identified as belonging to LEPO. Again, you can see their details and records. We also have some undercover footage to show you from gang territories, occupied streets, fresh no-go areas including tags and coded graffiti warnings.�

Lastly, she moved to the third board. She stood, arms folded, with the pointer beneath her arm like a sergeant major. �These are the addresses and contact numbers for parents and families of as many gang members as we�re able to find. The names with a star denote single parents, and the ones with a black cross indicate family members incarcerated. As you can see, there are high levels of single parents and imprisonment, meaning parental control is going to be low.�

There were scattered murmurs of dissent, which Armani quickly dismissed: �Targeting gang members and making arrests is one thing, but if we�re going to have any chance of getting control of this situation in the long term, we need to get the families on board, working with us...�

Hands shot into the air as the officers started to voice their opinions. Jack exchanged a meaningful look with Laura and two other officers they worked with. What DI Armani was talking about felt like community outreach, not the sort of policing they were committed to, dealing with serious crimes.

The doors opened and a trolley with tea and coffee was wheeled into the room. Armani announced a five-minute break, grabbed her mobile and strode from the room. Jack waited for a couple of minutes then did the same. But he had no intention of returning. If asked, he would point out that someone of rank should be monitoring the incident room.

As Jack walked into the incident room, he immediately saw Armani. She looked as if she was about to ask him why he�d left the meeting but before she got a chance, the door banged open and Detective Sergeant Ed Burrows, an old hand who manned the intelligence cell on the ground floor, gestured urgently to her.

�Yes?�

�Mrs Barras has been taken to St Thomas�s, and they�ve made an arrest, Ma�am,� he said, breathlessly.

She hurried over to him and conducted a whispered conversation.

�Everything all right, Ma�am?� Jack asked, approaching nearer so he could hear.

�Yes, yes,� she said dismissively.

�This is my case,� Jack said forcefully. �If George Barras has been arrested, I should be the one to interview him.�

Armani nodded for Burrows to leave, then closed the door, and turned to face Jack. She took a deep breath. �George has attacked Maria again. She�s been taken to St Thomas�s hospital and is in a critical state. He ran off, but a uniform quickly tracked him down. He�s now in custody at Fulham station.�

Jack was fuming at this wholly avoidable situation. �I warned you he was bloody dangerous. If you�d let me continue the investigation, I could have got Maria to change her mind, make a statement and press charges. George would have been in custody pending trial and none of this would have happened.�

She faced him angrily. �I made the decision I felt was right at the time, with the information available to me.�

Jack quickly changed his attitude. �I�m sorry. My tone was uncalled for, Ma�am. But let me go to the hospital and check on Maria. It�ll mean you can continue your briefing. I can catch up on everything on my return.�

She considered her options before nodding. �Yes, please do that. I will explain everything later.�

As she walked off down the corridor, Jack smiled to himself. An official visit to the hospital to see Maria would also give him the opportunity to check on the victim from the frame shop. As he grabbed his jacket from the back of his desk chair, Laura walked in, prizing open a pack of aspirin, popping two in her mouth and grimacing as she forced them down.

�What�s going on?� she asked.

�That domestic I was looking into. The victim has been assaulted again, and Armani wants me to deal with it, so I�m not going back to the briefing room.�

Before Laura could ask anything else, he was out of the incident room and hurtling down the stairs to talk to Burrows. He learnt that the police had been called to the Barras house by social services, who were there to speak with Mrs Barras. As they knocked on the front door, George Barras ran out of the back door like a crazy man. They found his wife unconscious on the kitchen floor.

�She�s in a bad way, Jack,� Burrows said. �He used a fucking claw hammer on her this time.�

�And Fulham station called us?�

�Yeah. They wanted to talk to DI Armani. And only her.�

Jack thanked Burrows, then headed out. Burrows called out to him as he went. �Put your foot down, Jack. It�s a bad one.�

Jack took the unmarked CID car, turning on the sirens and concealed blue lights as he left the yard. Arriving at St Thomas�s threequarters of an hour later, he found a parking space and left the Met Police logbook on the dashboard to avoid getting a ticket. He went to the main hospital reception area, showed his ID and explained his urgent reason for being there. It was a few moments while the receptionist conferred with two others working on the desk. They located Maria Barras in the intensive care unit in a new building away from the main hospital. He was handed a red plastic lanyard and told he could take a shortcut by exiting and going through the staff-only entrance on the right-hand-side of the hospital.

Jack made his way along a narrow pathway and then turned into the entrance to the newly built section housing the ICU wings. He went down a long corridor, following the arrows, until he got to a midway cubicle manned by two nurses checking TV monitors. Jack identified himself again.

�The patient you�re making enquiries about is being prepared for surgery,� one of the nurses told him. �I�m afraid I am unable to give you any further detail.�

Jack tried to mask his frustration. �Is there an area I could wait until the surgeon can speak to me?�

�Yes, we have a private visitors room. A duty nurse can take your details and give you information when there is an update. It may be quite a while as the team is only just preparing for surgery. Go down this corridor and take the third door on your right.�

Jack followed her directions, passing several white-coated doctors and nurses who paid him no attention. He stopped by a large glass-fronted map of the ICU with directions to theatres, private wards and the visitors� waiting room. Reaching the waiting room, Jack found a young man sitting in the corner reading a medical journal. Jack sat down. After a couple of minutes a nurse opened the door.

�Miles, you�re wanted in X-ray. Like now.� The man dropped his journal and darted off.

�Things a bit hectic?� Jack asked with a smile.

The nurse nodded. �We�ve got a lot of extra security around terminal one at the moment.� She glanced down at her beeper, then hurried out herself. Jack stood in the empty room for a couple of minutes, then made his way back to the map. If terminal one had extra security, it was a good bet that�s where the frame shop victim was.

Jack studied the map for a moment, then took off at a brisk pace down the length of the corridor, turning into a large mushroom-shaped area. There were banks of monitor screens lined up on the desk, but to his relief, nobody was around. He was about to go round the desk and have a peek at the monitors when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He whipped around.

�Jesus Christ.�

A burly uniformed officer was grinning at him. �It�s Ralph, Ralph Jordan. We were on a training course together a while ago. What are you doing here?�

�I went to the loo and couldn�t find the way back. There�s a woman I need to interview but she�s in surgery.�

�Come on in,� Ralph said, opening a door to the right of the desk. �We�ve got decent coffee in here.� Jack hesitated for a second, not wanting to appear too eager. As Jack entered the room, Ralph introduced everyone. �I�m relieving Tommy, and that�s DS Collingwood. This is DS Jack Warr. We were on a Met training course years back. He�s here on another case.�

The men nodded their hellos as Tommy put on his jacket. Ralph went to a table laden with sandwiches and two percolators and offered Jack a coffee, which he gladly accepted. �See you tonight,� Ralph said to Tommy as he started to walk out.

�Maybe you won�t. Word is he�s failing fast and you know the rules, Ralph.� Tommy glanced to Jack, who he obviously thought shouldn�t have been allowed into their waiting area. Ralph waved his hand dismissively as he handed Jack his coffee.

�I needed this, thanks. So, why are you lot here?� Jack sat in one of the easy armchairs and looked at the bank of monitors lining one wall. Most of the screens were blank, but on one he could see doctors and nurses surrounding a bed, with a lot of complicated looking equipment around it.

�It�s that bloke found in Portobello Road,� Collingwood said. �We�ve been on round the clock since he was brought in.�

�Oh yeah. I think I heard something about that,� Jack said, taking a sip of his coffee.

�I�ve never seen anything like it,� Collingwood continued. �He was stripped naked, nailed to a bloody great cross, his face shattered. Knife wounds to his chest, punctured lungs.�

�Who is he?� Jack asked.

�Dunno. There were no clothes, identifying items or fingerprints. His palms and fingers had been scraped raw, and there were no teeth because they�d been hammered out. His jaw was hanging loose.�

�It�s a wonder he�s still alive,� Jack said.

Collingwood sighed and got up to refill his coffee. �The only thing working, and it has to be bloody strong, is his heart. He�s in an induced coma; can�t breathe by himself. The machines are pumping day and night.�

�Bet you�re chomping at the bit to talk to him.�

�Shit yeah. For now, it�s a sterile room with only the surgeon and nursing staff allowed access to him... You were on that Rodney Middleton case, weren�t you?� Collingwood asked, stirring his coffee. The question took Jack by surprise. �I was at the trial, waiting to go into another court. You were very impressive, and I�m not telling tales out of school, but we could do with someone like you heading up this one.�

�Thanks. Who is running the investigation by the way?�

�DCI Mark Morrison. He�s running around like a headless chicken because we�ve got fuck all after almost a week. We had a nasty piece of work brought in who appeared to be running the shop. At first, he said he wasn�t the owner, then admitted he was. The shop mostly sells junk; old picture frames, that sort of shit. We had him in custody for twenty-four hours, but he�s got a solid enough alibi.�

�Had the shop been broken into?� Jack asked.

�The rear door was left open, which is how he was found. Another stall owner found him... poor woman.�

�What�s the guy�s alibi?�

�He was in Southampton, shipping some frames out, and had missed a pick-up. So, he booked into a B&B for the night and got his girlfriend to meet him there. He was there the entire weekend.�

�And he couldn�t help ID the victim? No identifying scars or tatts?�

�Nope. And no face to show him either! We even tried to get a court artist to see if she could give us an impression, but she said it would be impossible. I mean, we could only show her photographs, obviously, but whoever beat the crap out of the poor guy made sure he couldn�t be identified.�

They fell silent as Jack drained his coffee and sat holding the empty cup. The monitor was still hiding the figure encased in the bed, and the nurses were standing in front of the camera.

�Could I get a look at him?� Jack asked.

�Hell no. I told you, it�s a sterile unit. Any infection and he�s gone.�

Jack was thinking he might be able to identify the man based on height, weight and build. �What are the other monitors for?�

�After the medics leave, we switch all monitors on. There�s a camera at the door, one showing the rest of the room, the patient. Anyone who comes and goes.�

�How tall is he?�

Collingwood thought a moment. �I reckon five-ten maybe. I can tell you, he�s quite muscular, in good shape. I reckon he�d recently been abroad as well. He�s quite tanned.�

�Age?�

�Thirties. Forties. Hard to guess without the face.�

Jack hid his growing tension. The description could be Adam�s. �What about his hair?�

Collingwood looked over to Ralph. �See what I mean, real detective we got here. I mean, have you heard Morrison asking about any of this? If he did, it�s not in the notes. Shoulder-length, dark blond, at least it was before they shaved it all off for the operations.�

�The reason I�m asking is that I reckon you could put out a request for information; you�ve got quite a good description, even without his face.�

�It�s on standby, but we have checked the missing persons reports. Nothing relevant. We�ll check with Interpol next.�

Although Jack knew that Adam was at least six feet tall, the hair colour and his suntan matched. Collingwood suddenly stood up, gesturing to the screens which now showed the medics moving away from the patient�s bedside.

�What would be your next port of call, Jack? You can see more of him now.� Jack stood next to Collingwood as the three other screens now showed the same room. There was a cage over the lower part of the man�s body, breathing tubes attached to his mouth, but most disconcerting were the number of wires and steel rods coming from his chin, cheeks and jaw. All designed to keep his facial features in place and all covered with a fine mesh that hid his entire face and skull. But now that Jack could see the man�s toned physique for himself, his instinct was that it wasn�t Adam Border. Relief filled his body and he physically relaxed.

Jack now acted like a police officer, answering the question Collingwood has just asked. �Somebody wanted to inflict the utmost pain on this guy, before making sure he was unidentifiable This assault took time. So, there�s real hatred there. Your victim would have known he was going to die. He�s defied the odds, perhaps by being found earlier than the killer predicted. Also, I reckon this attack could have taken more than one person.�

Collingwood looked to Ralph, gesturing for him to stand up. �He was about two feet off the ground, ankles crossed and chained, the chain hammered into the wood. His arms were splayed out... spread your arms, Ralph, that�s it... wrists bound and chained. His head was held up by another heavier chain that went round to the back of the cross, and there was a big iron ring hooked up onto what we think was some kind of stand for a heavy shelf.�

Ralph stood, arms stretched wide before he lowered them and, like Collingwood, he looked to Jack for his opinion.

�That would all take a lot of time, hours. And I definitely think it could have been two people; lifting and attaching your victim wouldn�t be easy. I�d have fought like hell even if they had a gun on me. Then the place was cleaned up. Again, that takes time. Was there a substantial amount of blood?�

Collingwood nodded. �Oh yes. We�ve questioned the neighbours, but a lot of the properties are used as business storage for the market, not many residents live in them, and to date, we�ve not had anyone come forward saying they heard or saw anything. I reckon we should have had a press release days ago.�

�I agree.� There was just a fraction of a second when Jack thought about mentioning his visits to the shop, but Collingwood looked at his watch interrupting Jack�s chain of thought.

�I�m going to kick you out, Jack,� Collingwood said. �We�ve got DCI Morrison coming in for an update. God forbid he finds out I�ve been spilling the beans to you. I trust you won�t let on that I have. He�s hard enough to work with without any further aggravation. Just in case you bump into each other, what are you doing here?�

�Questioning a woman who�s been attacked by her husband with a claw hammer. She�s been in theatre since I arrived. I was in the visitors� waiting room, needed to take a slash, and this place is like a rabbit warren. The next minute, Ralph slapped me on the shoulder and said he�d seen me wandering around on the CCTV monitors.�

Collingwood laughed. �Yeah, this place they call the new build is already outdated and understaffed. At one point, they were going to move our patient to another ICU unit, but we needed to have this area to monitor his progress. Good to meet you, Jack. See you around. Ralph, walk him back to the visitors� section.�

Ralph took Jack back to where he had entered the mushroom-shaped section, now manned by numerous staff. As he headed down the almost familiar corridor, it was already after 2 p.m., but he didn�t mind as his day had been more fruitful than he expected. He sat in one chair and drew another over to rest his feet on. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he once again thought that the victim was not Adam Border. That horrific sight of the victim clinging to life was shocking, but now Jack had to consider that, if it wasn�t Adam... Jack swung his legs to the floor and rested his head in his hands. �Shit, shit�.

He remembered what Helga had said about Adam, that Jack had no concept of what he could do and that he was very vengeful. Jack also recalled her saying that Adam had many helpers; he would have used these people to clear his studio in the school. Jack needed to learn who these people were.

But Jack was really getting palpitations remembering what Helga had overheard Adam shouting to someone on the phone.

�I�ll crucify you!�

Jack waited in the visiting room for an hour and a half and was eventually told by a male doctor that Maria Barras had undergone major surgery and was now in the recovery ward, heavily sedated. He would not be able to interview her for at least 24 hours. Frustrated, Jack had asked if Mrs Barras would recover, but the doctor was non-committal. He gave him his phone number and asked to be updated regarding her condition. Then he headed into work.

Jack went up to the canteen only to find the hot lunches had already been served, but limp salad and some dried-up cold cuts were still available. He decided not to bother and went into the incident room to find it half empty. The only news was that DI Armani had organised a community meeting at the YMCA hall the following evening. Jack threw his jacket over the back of his chair and started looking at the files left on his desk with a Post-it note asking him to appraise the contents. He was flipping through the reports when Laura came in, looking pissed off.

�She�s got us schlepping round the high-rises delivering bloody leaflets. Everyone is pissed off. DCI Clarke seems to support her strategy for breaking up the gangs � but I�m not the only one who thinks it�s getting out of hand.�

Jack gave Laura a quick nod as DI Armani walked in. Laura turned.

�Just filling DS Warr in on the leaflet distribution, Ma�am.�

Jack stood up as Armani gestured for him to follow her into DCI Clarke�s office.

�What the hell have you been doing? Why didn�t you contact me?� she said angrily as soon as he�d closed the door behind him.

�I�m sorry, but I have been waiting at the ICU unit for Mrs Barras to get out of surgery, but then I was told she was not in a state to be interviewed. And you can�t use mobile phones in the unit.�

She waved his excuses away. �Just tell me how she is.�

�They wouldn�t give me any details, only that she was in the recovery ward heavily sedated, and it could be some time before we can speak to her.�

�So, you don�t know her condition?�

�It�s serious, I know that much. I presume by now you must have the details of her husband�s arrest unless, of course, you were delivering leaflets and unable to...�

She pursed her lips in anger. �That�s enough, Detective Warr.�

Jack ignored her. �If you�d allowed me to revisit Mrs Barras, I know I could have persuaded her to make a statement so her husband couldn�t have...�

She glared at him angrily. �I won�t discuss this now.�

�I am aware, Ma�am, that as a DS, your name was attached to the report when George Barras was previously arrested.�

Armani suddenly seemed to stumble forward, grabbing hold of the desk chair as though she was about to faint.

�Ma�am?� Jack caught her and helped her to sit. She was shaking, then she put her head in her hands and started sobbing. �Are you all right... do you want me to get some water?�

She sat up straight, wiping her face with the back of her hand, and remained silent. Jack didn�t really know what to say next.

�If you want to speak freely with me, please know that you can. Nothing will leave this room.�

Armani took a series of deep breaths as the tension left her body. �Dear God, how one wrong move can turn round and bite you.� She looked into Jack�s eyes and somehow, she knew she could trust him. �George is my sister�s son,� she said quietly. �As a family, we have tried to deal with his mental health problems, but he has suffered severe PTS after serving in Afghanistan. It�s not an excuse, not anymore, but I am asking you to let me handle the situation. Maria will bring charges against him, and I will take care of her and ensure he remains in custody.�

Jack thought quickly about how he should react. �I�ll leave you to handle the situation, Ma�am. And perhaps after he�s sentenced, he�ll get the medical help he needs.�

�Thank you,� she said simply. Armani walked out of DCI Clarke�s office and Jack followed. As she collected her coat and briefcase, she gave Jack a small nod. �I�m going to the hospital if anyone wants to know where I am. I�ll be back at the station in the morning.�

Jack watched her as she walked out. She�d made a mistake � a terrible one � but he trusted her to make things right, as she trusted him to keep her secret.

Laura�s gossip sensors were twitching. �What happened? You were ages.�

�You wouldn�t believe me even if I told you, which I am not going to. Instead, I am going to be a very diligent officer and wade through all of this crap.�

Jack arrived home and spent time playing with Hannah and Charlie.

Maggie didn�t get home until almost eight, and she was tired out, having had another rough day. Penny had made a shepherd�s pie for dinner, and Jack helped her put the kids to bed before he sat down with Maggie to eat.

He told her briefly about the situation with DI Armani. He could see that she was doing her best to be interested, but at the same time, her eyes were drooping.

�Why don�t you go to bed, love,� he said gently. �I�ll clear up down here and then I�ve got a bit of work to do. I�ll come up in a little while.� She gave him a kiss, then went upstairs.

Shutting himself in his office with a large glass of wine, Jack began making notes. He wrote down as much as he could recall of his conversation with Helga, then everything he could remember about the description of the victim. Next he opened a drawer in his desk to remove the photographs he had cut from magazines after finding the invitation to the art gallery showing. He laid out all the pictures of Detmar Steinburg, the art dealer. Could he be missing and no one had reported it? That had to be doubtful, so he jotted down the gallery phone number from the invitation to call the following morning.

Jack then remembered the well-dressed black man he had seen at the framer�s. He had to skim through his mobile to find the exact date when he and Marius had been at the market, the day he had taken one of the invitations. He also noted that he had seen the wooden cross. Lastly, he searched around in his desk drawers to find an old burner phone, which he could use to contact the art gallery.

Maggie was fast asleep when Jack got into bed beside her. As his brain would not stop ticking over, he took one of her sleeping tablets. He had a lot to do the next day and needed a good night�s sleep.

On Thursday the whole station was in a celebratory mood following numerous arrests of gang members based on tip-offs and community support. The local newspaper showed a picture of DI Armani with a group of grateful parents and she made it clear that the police were committed to ending the local gang wars.

Jack, however, was clearly in the doghouse as far as DCI Clarke was concerned; the last thing he needed was one of his officers being connected � however tangentially � to a murder case. Jack noticed Armani was now keeping her distance, too. Whether it was because he�d mentioned her as his �alibi� during his interview with Morrison, he didn�t know, but he decided against bringing the subject up with her. She must know he hadn�t divulged her connection to George Barras, because she would have been dragged over the coals by now. In the end he put her aloofness down to her being busy with her new-found media profile.

The covert programme to put officers on the streets wearing expensive watches had started to show results, with four arrests being made after receiving information from two other stations. Jack was in the thick of things but kept one eye on developments in the framer�s shop murder investigation.

The still-unidentified victim was now being physically described using Collingwood�s words in the ICU: five feet nine to ten, late thirties to early fifties, tanned, muscular, with collar-length dark blond hair. The media still made no reference to the crucifixion, but they did elaborate on the appalling injuries inflicted, suggesting that it was a possible hate crime due to the perpetrator disfiguring the victim�s face. Jack knew that by withholding certain key details, the hundreds of officers manning the public phonelines would be able to more easily distinguish between nutcases and true potential leads.

To Jack�s relief, so far there were no references to CCTV images of people seen entering the framer�s shop. On his way into the station, Jack had checked the position of the CCTV camera across the road from the framer�s. It was angled to show the carpet shop�s display out in front, and it just took in the left side of the framer�s shop entrance which was still covered in yellow crime scene tape. It was why the elegant black man had not been caught on camera, but Jack had been, along with Border who had been wearing his baseball cap pulled low and dark glasses.

Jack was packing up, ready to go home. Laura was at her desk and leaned back in her chair to indicate she had something to say. �Guess what, DCI Morrison has asked me on a date. I couldn�t believe it. I said to him was it just a drink and he said he was offering dinner.�

�And?�

�I accepted. You know what I think, it�s because of what I told you about Cruella working with him. I saw the reaction when he saw her, and she was just as tense. I�m going over to Fulham after work tonight.�

�Well don�t have too much to drink.�

�I won�t, and I�ll see what nuggets I can find out about his murder case.�

Jack was still shaking his head when he got to the car park. With Laura�s total inability to be subtle, Jack often wondered how on earth she had managed to become a police officer in the first place.

On Friday the incident room was busy with rounding up officers for magistrate�s court appearances. Jack had a slew of statements to double-check and file, which took most of the morning. In his opinion, Armani was moving too fast, and he predicted there could be dire consequences.

Laura, who had been in court all morning, eventually came in after lunch. She looked over to Jack, making a �C� shape with her hand. He nodded that he�d love a coffee, and she headed to the canteen to get them a proper one. Filing everything he had completed, Jack began checking another case that had been dismissed for lack of evidence. It still had to be documented, dated and filed, and placed alongside the other dismissed cases.

Laura returned with two coffees and a KitKat. She perched on the edge of Jack�s desk and divided the KitKat in two.

�How was dinner?� he asked as she handed him his share.

�Italian. Not bad. But he kept me waiting three quarters of an hour �cause he had some big meeting. I think they�re trying to get on this new crime stoppers TV series. As far as I could make out, they�re still checking out their main suspect�s alibi; you know, the bloke that owns the framer�s shop. Anyways one of his team, nice guy, Mike Collingwood, he looked after me till Morrison was free.� Laura nibbled her KitKat like a rabbit skinning a carrot. �I had a look over their whiteboard. Proper old school, like we used to use before we got these techy ones. Three boards, all stacked with photos and notes. They had white paper covering the crime scene photos so I couldn�t have a really good nose. But they had a row of blurry CCTV photos of people coming and going from the shop.� Laura grinned. �You know your ugly mug was up there, right?�

�Tell me about it. That�s why Morrison was here the other day. I was buying a frame for Charlie�s christening, but I�m pissed off they have it on their board.�

�There was another photo, unidentified, guy with a baseball cap and shades. It was weird because he gave me d�j� vu. Anyway... I told Collingwood that your photo should not have been on the board. He took me to one side, explained why Morrison really had it in for you. Apparently, he had overheard two of his team talking, suggesting you�d be better at handling the case than him, and saying what they�d gained from you being at the ICU. That was it. Once he found out you�d been in the ICU, he latched on to you as a suspect.�

�I had good reason to be there. Armani sent me.�

�Whatever. So, dinner mainly consisted of him asking about you, and whether or not I trusted you. He got tetchy when I said I did... how could I not after so many years of being one desk away from you.�

As Jack and Laura shared a smile of solidarity, Armani approached and reprimanded Laura for perching on a colleague�s desk like she was a child in a school classroom. Laura immediately stood up.

�Sorry, Ma�am. I was just giving Detective Warr an update from the magistrate�s court. I�ll put my report in your office now.� Laura quickly moved back to her own desk as Armani continued towards her office.

Jack took a moment to gather the dismissed case files before following Armani. Her office was next to DCI Clarke�s, but it was little bigger than a cupboard. Jack tapped on the open door. She looked up frowning. �What do you want?�

�Sorry to disturb you, Ma�am, but I think there has to be some attention drawn to the number of cases building up which are being dismissed for lack of evidence. Due to the backlog, the magistrates are complaining. It could backfire and damage the good work you have been doing against the gangs. Especially if the press get wind of just how many of the juveniles we�ve arrested...�

She held her hand up to stop him. �I am fully aware of the situation, and it is in hand.�

�There�s something else, Ma�am. Laura happened to be over at Fulham station.�

�What was she doing there?�

�I believe a dinner date with DCI Morrison who inadvertently kept her waiting in full view of their crime board.�

�She was in their incident room?�

�Apparently so. Ma�am, she saw my photograph pinned on the board, alongside other people wanted for questioning.� Armani gave a dismissive shrug. �I felt that I had very clearly explained my reasons for being in the ICU. It was quite by accident I went down the wrong corridor and into the unit that was caring for their victim.�

Armani knew what Jack was after. �Yes, yes, obviously I backed up your statement. I was told that DCI Morrison also had a CCTV photograph of you entering the location where their victim was found, which obviously I couldn�t comment on.�

�I understand that Ma�am, but I also explained why I was there, and with witnesses to verify my account.�

Armani shrugged. �I�m not privy to any of that.�

�I just think that it is unethical for DCI Morrison � as I am a serving Met detective and attached to this station � to put my photo on his crime board.�

Armani didn�t respond and Jack was beginning to find her lack of interest in his predicament more than a little annoying. He gritted his teeth and added, �I suppose it was also unethical of me not to explain why you had insisted I personally visit Maria Barras...�

She pursed her lips, then held her hand out for the file he had brought with him. �I will have a word with Morrison. Thank you.�

Back at his desk, Laura caught his eye with a concerned look, but he just gave her a thumbs up.

In her office, Armani put in a call to DCI Morrison. �Mark, I just want to run something by you that�s come to my attention.�

�I�m up to my eyes at the moment, but...�

�It won�t take a moment. Apparently, you�ve got DS Jack Warr�s photograph on your incident board. He really is an exceptional officer, and I believe your enquiries were satisfactorily answered by him and supported by witness statements. So, I think you should take it down.�

�I hear what you�re saying. Anything else? I don�t want any hard feelings between us.�

�Likewise. I hope you understand, I�m just protecting one of my team.�

Morrison started to laugh, but she had already hung up. His dislike of Jack Warr went up another notch.

Armani was despondently looking over the files of dismissed cases when she got an urgent summons to a meeting with DCI Clarke.

�There�s been a fatal stabbing,� he said without any preamble. �A sixteen-year-old boy, questioned three weeks earlier about gang affiliations and then released.�

Maggie returned from the hairdressers laden with shopping bags, having also done a larger than intended grocery shop. Penny helped her to load up the deep freeze and cupboards, dropping into conversation that Jack had watered the plants without being asked. Maggie shrugged as if uninterested. �That�s a first.�

Upstairs Jack took a long bath, shaved and washed his hair, splashed cologne over himself and put on his dressing gown. It was too early for him to get dressed in his suit, so he decided to go and find Maggie to apologise. The last place he looked was of course where he found her; as Jack walked into the loft, Maggie turned to look at him.

�You had a haircut,� he said, hovering nervously.

�I told you last night. You�ve overdone it with the aftershave by the way.�

�Look, I�m sorry I sounded off last night. I can�t explain it, Maggie, but the first time I met Border, I connected with him somehow. He sparked my imagination. He�s a genius. Imagine what it must feel like to have the ability to fake a Rembrandt and for it to be acclaimed as a genuine masterpiece when his own work is dismissed as worthless. Imagine being able to fool the smartest art experts around the world. And none of them even know you exist. In truth, Mags, I�m fascinated by art forgery, the incredible skill of it, not by Adam. There are many forgers doing what he�s doing.�

She turned, cupping his face between her hands. �Thank you for being honest with me.�

�I love you, Mags.� Jack took her hands in his. �Do you think you could fix my bow tie?�

They went downstairs together, Maggie going into the nursery to check on Charlie. As she joined Jack in the bedroom, they could both hear Hannah whooping and shouting as she and Penny returned from the petting zoo. �A tiny goat! I want a tiny goat to keep in my bedroom!�

Jack and Maggie�s eyes widened in unison at the awful thought of Hannah now wanting a goat. Jack was wearing his suit, shirt and jacket.

He stepped into his trousers and tucked the dress shirt into the waist. Then Maggie stood on tiptoe to fix his bow tie.

�I�m afraid your old brogues aren�t going to work,� she told him. She rooted around the bottom of the wardrobe for the slip-ons with toggles that he had worn at their wedding, eventually dragging them out and giving them a quick polish with one of Charlie�s wet wipes.

Jack sat on the bed to put the shoes on. They were a very tight fit, which is why he had not worn them for years, but Maggie was right that they looked better with the trousers than the brogues. Jack looked at himself in the long wardrobe mirror and then turned to Maggie for her opinion.

�I forget how handsome you are, Jack Warr. You look amazing.� She began to hum the James Bond theme, but it faded quickly as she thought about where he was going and the dangerous game he was playing.

Jack checked that he had the burner phone, as well as his own mobile. He had the invitation in his jacket pocket and a wallet without any Met documents or insignia. At five thirty, it was time for him to leave. He kissed Maggie and was opening the front door just as Penny came out of the kitchen. �My God, you look amazing! Where are you going?�

�Met function,� Jack lied. �No wives unfortunately.�

�You should have a long white scarf to finish the look, darling. I�ve got one in my room if you want me to fetch it?�

�No, I�ve got to go, Mum. Don�t want to be late.� He walked out, closing the door quietly as Maggie joined Penny in the hall.

�Doesn�t he look handsome,� Penny beamed. �You�d better hope it�s men only, Maggie dear. If any ladies see him dressed like that, they�ll be after him straightaway.� Maggie laughed, then remembered they had left the light on in Jack�s office so went back upstairs to turn it off.

She rarely, if ever, spent time in there and certainly not alone, but now she glanced over his untidy desk with all his notes and photos cut out of magazines. She began to tidy them up, then, intrigued, sat down in his desk chair and started flicking through them. She stopped with a frown. Jack had written �reference to dealer� and then scribbled �Jo Ogden and partner�, which was then crossed out.

Maggie was sure she had heard the name, maybe a famous pianist? But she wasn�t certain. She put the notebook into the envelope with the rest of the notes and then into a drawer. She was about to use Jack�s computer but wasn�t certain what the password was, so she turned off his desk lamp and then the room light before going into their bedroom. But she couldn�t stop thinking about it so went to her briefcase and took out her laptop.

Sitting on the bed, she Googled Jo Ogden, and was pleased to find she�d been right. There was a famous pianist called John � not Jo, as Jack had written � Ogden, who died in 1987. She skimmed through the details of his life and brilliant career, a self-taught prodigy who had been overwhelmed with the burden of genius and could not cope with everyday life.

Maggie then looked for an artist with a similar name and was taken aback when up came Joe Orton, a playwright born in 1933, who was bludgeoned to death by his live-in partner, a failed artist called Kenneth Halliwell. She started delving deeper and the more she read of the relationship between Orton and Halliwell, the more anxious she became. They appeared to have had a tortuous homosexual relationship that broke down when Orton became successful. Halliwell�s failure as an artist drove him into a jealous rage, battering Orton�s head nine times with a hammer. Maggie took a deep breath, trying to think exactly how Adam had phrased his description of his dealer. Did he sound like Orton?

She rang Jack�s mobile. �Has something happened?� he asked concerned. �I�m almost at Bond Street.�

�Can you pull over, Jack? I need to talk to you... it�s important.�

�For Chrissakes Mags, you know where I�m going. Can�t it wait?�

�No, you have to pull over and listen to me.�

�Fuck�s sake,� Jack murmured to himself. He drove on until he spotted a parking space in Berkeley Square and parked up. �OK, this had better be good, Mags.�

�Jack, I need you to think back to when Adam said something derogatory about his dealer, and you made a note of it.�

�What are you talking about?�

�In your notes, you wrote down a name, Jo Ogden. I think you said that Adam had inferred his dealer was like him, or he and his partner were like them.�

Jack sighed, trying to piece together what she was asking him. �As far as I can recall, it was after he�d had a call from his dealer putting pressure on him...�

�What did he say?�

�I�m trying to think, Maggie, what�s so important about it?�

�You wrote down the wrong name, Jack. I think he was referring to a famous playwright named Joe Orton.�

�Maybe I did. I honestly can�t remember it clearly. I still don�t understand what the big deal is.�

�Joe Orton�s partner was an artist called Kenneth Halliwell. Orton became hugely successful as a playwright, but his partner, the artist � he did collages with bits of paper and cut out stuff from magazines � anyway, he was not successful, and he became consumed with jealousy.� She heard him give an impatient sigh. �Jack, Orton was hammered to death by his boyfriend. He tried to disfigure him with nine hammer blows to his head.�

In the blink of an eye, Jack understood the connection. �Was this recent?�

�No, years ago, late sixties, he was only thirty-four. Halliwell committed suicide. Listen, Jack, if someone in the art world referred to someone else�s relationship as being like Orton and his partner...�

�I don�t know if this Detmar guy is gay, dead or alive, or even if he has an artist for a boyfriend.�

�What about Adam?�

�What?�

�You don�t know him, Jack, I just thought you should know what I�ve found out. Think what he has told you, even that German woman said he�d threatened to crucify someone. Please be careful.�

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. �You�re right, Maggie, thank you. Now I�ve got to go. I don�t want to be late.� Jack sat in the car thinking over everything she had just told him. Something started to kick into gear inside him. He knew that compared to Adam he had a pitiful knowledge of the art world, and Adam had probably enjoyed dropping intellectual clues like the Orton reference for his amusement. Jack felt suddenly angry that he�d been so worried when he thought Adam might have been the crucified victim.

Jack waited until he was back in control of his emotions, then drove to the venue on Bond Street. Parking up, he had a good view of the gallery: four storeys, the windows brightly lit, a red carpet from the pavement to the glass double doors and a uniformed doorman standing to attention as the guests arrived. Rolls Royces, Mercedes and even a stretch limo drew up as Jack watched glamorous women and elegantly dressed men entering the gallery. He hid the family car down a side street, then hesitated only a few moments before heading across the road and entering through the gallery�s gleaming glass doors.

�Welcome to the gallery. May I have your name please, Sir?� The smartly dressed young woman on the desk in the reception area smiled warmly at Jack.

Jack waved his invitation as if insulted. �Sotheby�s, you should recognise me by now,� he said curtly.

She gave an embarrassed, apologetic nod as Jack picked up one of the leaflets from the desk and walked towards the first open doorway, picking up a glass of champagne from a tall young man holding a tray along the way.

The walls were adorned with large oil paintings from what Jack guessed was the eighteenth century, depicting women in full satin gowns and men in white powdered wigs.

More guests were arriving as Jack made his way to a corner to read the leaflet. The gallery had three open floors: the third floor would feature the exhibition of a new artist�s work, and Detmar Steinburg would introduce the artist at eight o�clock. The fourth floor contained the private offices.

Jack walked out and noticed two men, who were not in evening suits, standing in opposite corners of the room. He assumed they were security guards. As he approached the wide staircase, he saw a glass-sided lift with a sign that read: �Gate opens outward�. Jack stepped into the lift and got out on the second floor. The walls here were adorned with more modern paintings, and two men were examining them closely while referring to a catalogue. Another security guard in a suit was standing to one side.

After wandering around for a while, Jack managed to slip past the security guard while a group of people arrived at the same time. He took the lift again, this time exiting on the third floor. There was no one stationed at the entrance to this part of the gallery, but a chain was attached to the long door handles. He was able to inch them open a little giving him a reasonably good view of the room. He was surprised to see that all the canvases were draped with muslin sheets and were on easels rather than hanging on the walls. At one end of the room, there was a small, raised platform with a microphone and a jug of water with a glass next to it. He guessed that this had to be the exhibition area, and Detmar would be introducing the artist from the platform.

He took the stairs to the next floor. There was a sign that read, �Private: No Admittance�, and all four doors were closed. Each door bore a small plaque indicating that it was a private office, a staff bathroom and toilet or a sales department. At this point, Jack was beginning to think he had been mistaken about Detmar, as it seemed that Detmar was definitely expected to open the exhibition.

He moved across the landing to the door at the end. Although it appeared to have some kind of digital lock requiring a code to enter, when he turned the handle, it opened. He quickly slipped inside, leaving it partly open, so he wasn�t locking himself in. One window overlooking the rear of the gallery had the blinds partly open, giving the room a yellowish glow.

Although the light was dim, as he moved further into the room he could see an array of crates. These were stacked against one wall beside two large sacks. One crate, narrower and longer than the rest, was open and Jack saw it was filled with straw. Jack got down on his knees and pulled away the straw until he could feel the frame of a painting. Pushing aside the protective muslin covering, he could now see the edge of an oil painting, just making out a bejewelled woman�s wig and part of her brow. He recognised it immediately as Lady with a Fan which he�d first seen at the abandoned school with Adam. He took out his phone and began to film.

He straightened up, dusting down his trousers, and turned his attention to the wall. It was covered in laminated sheets detailing storage units, shipments, dock numbers, drop-off points, customs and the different paperwork required for European ports: France, Amsterdam, Italy. One laminated sheet detailed shipments from Berlin, expected times and collection points, another had a list of Japanese customs regulations. Jack felt his heart rate increasing. This floor, this room, was clearly the heart of the operation.

Jack had started to take pictures of more canvases ready to be packed, making certain to get close-ups of the descriptions and destinations, when he heard raised voices. He listened at the door, unsure where the voices were coming from, then edged out onto the empty landing. As the voices got louder, he realised they were coming from the office. Jack barely made it into the staff bathroom before the door to the office opened.

�I am very concerned, Kurt. We were expecting him yesterday. I still have not received a text or return phone call � we should have cancelled.�

�This is my show, you understand me. He isn�t here, so I am taking over and you can do nothing about it.�

�Oh, I can, Kurt, because you�re drugged out of your head, as usual. You have not allowed any of the staff to organise the showing, let alone even see what we are exhibiting. I have worked here for ten years, and he has never allowed anyone else to take control of a gallery showing before. Have you any idea how many years of hard work it has taken to have these buyers and dealers here? It�s his reputation that I am worried about.�

�This is my life, Ester, mine, not yours... you can go fuck yourself because he would never put his cock up your frozen cunt.�

�I am not taking that from you! I�ve been organising these events alongside Detmar. Me. Not to be allowed onto floor three is ridiculous. You�ve had it locked and barred � why?�

�If you don�t like it, you know what you can do. Get the hell out! This is my night, and I am warning you not to interfere.�

Jack eased open the bathroom door and waited for the man she had called Kurt to come into his eyeline. As soon as he saw him, he recognised him as the black man he had seen coming out of the framer�s shop. He was wearing a long, flamboyant white gown with embroidery and beads around the neck and sleeves.

The woman called Ester was shaking in fear and frustration. �I am going to call him again right now. Believe me, he won�t approve of this because I know exactly how he feels about your endeavours. He would never even contemplate giving you an entire exhibition. I will tell him...�

Jack tensed up as Kurt reached out and grabbed her throat, stopping her in mid-flow. He was a big man, and he shook her like a rag doll. �Don�t make me hurt you, Ester. Just stay out of it, or you will regret it.�

He pushed her hard against the open office door and her head cracked against the wood panel. She looked terrified as he calmly backed away, heading towards the stairs. Jack shut the door so Kurt wouldn�t see him, then had to quickly go into one of the toilet cubicles as the door opened.

Ester came into the bathroom, bleeding from a cut on the side of her head. She was sobbing as she splashed cold water over her face and then soaked a wad of paper tissues to stem the blood. Jack slowly pushed open the toilet door. She could see him in the mirror and looked as if she was about to scream.

�Ester, don�t, please don�t. I�m here to help you. Take a deep breath, come on, breathe, that�s it. Now sit down for a minute.� She had the tissues clamped to her head, staring at him fearfully. Jack helped her sit on a small gilt-backed chair with a velvet cushion. Dressed in a white silk blouse and tight black skirt, she had high cheekbones, dark brown eyes framed by thick eyelashes and her jet-black hair was pulled back from her face and coiled in an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck.

�I am looking for Detmar, it�s urgent. I really need you to tell me what is going on and if you know where he is.�

�But why do you want to know this?�

�I�m a private investigator,� Jack lied.

She looked at him dubiously, then started to cry. �No one knows where Detmar is,� she said. �I�ve been trying to contact him for days. He was in Germany on business, due back over a week ago. He has galleries all over the world. None of them know where he is.�

�Tell me about Kurt?�

�He�s Detmar�s partner, although they have a very volatile relationship and lately he has been very difficult to handle. Detmar always leads these events, but without him here, Kurt has been running the gallery.�

Jack helped Ester to her feet and she led him into the office, an elegantly panelled room with an antique desk and numerous filing cabinets, along with a computer with a wide screen and a shredding machine beside the desk. She sat at the desk, powered up the computer and showed him all the texts, messages and calls she had made trying to trace Detmar.

�Can you tell me about Detmar�s other business?� Jack asked carefully.

She looked confused. �I don�t understand what other business you are referring to.�

�Tell me about Kurt, then. Are they business partners? How is he involved with the galleries?�

�He�s an artist. They have been together for years, but you know Detmar can be very promiscuous, and it infuriates Kurt. I think he is envious of his success, too, and he is often here arguing with him because he won�t promote his artworks.�

�So, they live together?�

�Yes. Detmar keeps him in luxuries. They have houses all over the world, and Kurt wants for nothing.�

�Do you know an artist called Adam Border?�

There was not so much as a flicker of recognition. �No, but I never deal directly with artists really. I handle the running of the galleries. My contact on the US and European side is always through someone equivalent to me.�

�What about shipping paintings around the world?�

�That is handled by Detmar, and he has numerous assistants to handle collections.�

Ester had gradually regained her composure, opening her handbag to remove her compact and check her face. Now that the blood had stopped and her face was clean, she could see that the cut on her temple was only small. She began using a powder compact to conceal the injury. Jack watched, pacing, as she put on fresh lipstick. If she knew about the forgeries, she was good at hiding it, Jack thought. She seemed to instinctively trust him, perhaps because she was in shock after Kurt had attacked her. But he was unsure whether he could trust her.

�I should go down to check on the guests,� she said, snapping the lipstick cover back on and putting it back in her handbag. �Do I look OK?�

�I think you should be very careful after what just happened to you,� Jack said.

She pursed her freshly painted lips. �I will be all right. Thank you.�

Almost as an afterthought, as Jack was about to follow her out, he asked, �Do you know a Helga Meirling?� The question seemed to take her by surprise, and this time she reacted to the name. Jack quickly blocked her exit. �How do you know her?� he persisted.

Ester sighed. �She is a very wealthy client. I believe Detmar arranged a rental property for her�.

�Was that in Haslemere?�

She reacted again, just a slight flicker of her eyes. �I am not sure. It was a private transaction. Ah, I suppose Helga must be the one who hired you then?�

Jack didn�t deny it. �If you know Helga, you must know Adam Border.�

�I have never heard of him. The reason I am aware of Helga Meirling is not because Detmar leased some property for her, it�s because she recently contacted me about a cheque that she had been expecting from Detmar.�

�So, they are close friends?�

�I don�t think so. She is a client who makes a lot of introductions.�

�How much was the cheque for?�

Ester hesitated, returned to the desk, opened a drawer and took out an expensive-looking black leather diary. She searched through it, then closed the diary before unlocking another small drawer to take out a large chequebook with the name of a private bank emblazoned on it.

�Three days ago. It was for a hundred thousand pounds. I told her that there must be some mistake and that I would tell Detmar to send a banker�s draft instead. If you are working for her, you know she is a very astute businesswoman. He pays her on a regular basis.�

Jack sighed. The more he learnt, the less he felt he really understood. They left the office together as the sounds of the guests from below drifted up. Ester went to the lift, but Jack raised a hand.

�I�m not going in that thing again. I�ll walk down.�

�It is an unusual lift, I suppose, to the layman. You see the gate has to open outwards for when we move the artwork in crates between floors. There is more room inside the lift and the crates cannot be damaged by the doors closing on them. But walk if you insist.�

She stepped back as the door opened, then entered the lift, while he went towards the stairs, watching it pass him. After a moment, he went back up the stairs and into the office again. He sat at the desk, picked up a silver letter opener in the shape of a dagger and broke open a small, locked drawer. The drawer was filled with chequebooks from different banks. Flipping through them, he found cheque stubs for hundreds of thousands of pounds in various currencies. The writing was neat and elegant. Next, he took out a diary and read through the most recent entries made in the same elegant handwriting.

The diary was filled with appointments ranging from hair stylists and manicurists to dental and fitness trainers, as well as bookings for lunch and dinners at top restaurants. Some names were underlined in red, and there were also notes about purchase dates and deliveries. Yet again he switched on his phone, filming as much of the contents as he could.

The diary�s most recent pages were almost empty. Across each day, there was a note stating that Detmar was unavailable, along with contact numbers for him in France and Germany. There was also a sheet that appeared to be a list of large financial transactions and deposits in the Cayman Islands.

Jack put the diary back where he found it. He searched the other two drawers but found nothing of interest. Unable to open the locked filing cabinets, he decided to return to the gallery. As he turned towards the door, he noticed a faint scrape mark on the wooden floor next to the panelled wall. This immediately suggested that one of the panels was actually a door which dragged on the floor as it opened. After some exploration, he discovered a concealed lever on the wall. He pushed it and the hidden door clicked open.

As it closed behind him, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He felt a thick carpet beneath his feet. Jack edged further into the room, arms outstretched for safety, and stopped when a small night light on the skirting board illuminated, obviously triggered by his movement. Its light revealed the room�s contents. There was a carved single bed, with satin duvet covers and matching pillows, and two antique cabinets on either side. On the bed was a pinstriped navy suit, a crumpled shirt and suede shoes. He walked round the bed opened a wardrobe filled with high-end shirts, suits and shoes. Many items of clothing had Detmar�s initials.

Beside the built-in wardrobe was another door, leading into a luxuriously appointed marble bathroom. He found a light switch as the night lights went out in the bedroom. Opening the cabinets, he found rows of vitamins alongside prescription drugs, sleeping tablets, Viagra and, in a small plastic bag with a silver spoon, a white powder he assumed to be cocaine. Hypodermic needles were still in their packages, and he thought one small dark brown glass jar could contain heroin. The second cabinet contained bottles of cologne and body creams, plus a silver-backed hairbrush and matching silver-edged comb.

Inspecting the hairbrush, he found a few long strands of hair caught between the bristles, also a number still attached to the comb. He took some sheets of toilet paper and folded some of the hairs inside, then put them in his pocket. Looking down at the wastebin, he saw that beneath crumpled tissues and used hypodermic needles was an empty leather case. Jack recognised it immediately and knew it had contained a G18 Glock 9 mm automatic. He straightened up fast as he heard Ester�s voice, quickly turning off the light and stepping back into the dark bedroom area. He stood motionless against the wall so as not to activate the sensor lights and felt for the silver paper knife he�d taken from the desk.

Ester was shouting. �You are insane! I don�t know how the hell you got in here! I don�t believe you! Get out or I will get the police to remove you.� Although Jack recognised Ester�s voice, and he assumed the other person was Kurt, until he too started shouting.

�I want the money he promised me, or never mind you calling them, I will go to the fucking police myself. They�ve questioned me already, and I�ve kept my mouth shut, but they are now looking into the shipment at Southampton... you want to know what crazy is? I�ve got his bloody clothes. He slaughtered him like the mad dog he is and, yes, I never got rid of his clothes. So, if that bastard doesn�t pay up tonight, I�ll take them to the cops.�

Jack recognised the voice as O�Reilly�s.

Ester sounded utterly confused. �I don�t know what you�re talking about. I know nothing about any shipment at Southampton, and what clothes are you talking about? Who is dead?�

�Don�t play the fucking innocent with me, you two-faced bitch. You�re in it up to your fucking eyeballs. I go down, I�ll make sure you go down with me.�

�I don�t want any trouble, please let me talk to him for you. Detmar will pay you whatever he owes you. Let go of me!�

�He�s fucking dead, you stupid bitch! He nailed him up!�

As Ester started screaming, Jack ran across to the hidden door, kicking it open to reveal Ester, curled up and terrified, with O�Reilly punching her. O�Reilly spun, leaving Ester and lunging at Jack. Jack parried a haymaker and went to stab him with the paper knife, but O�Reilly quickly headbutted him and the knife clattered to the floor as Jack fell to his knees then onto his back. O�Reilly made to kick him in the head, but Jack brought his foot up and kicked as hard he could between the legs. Screaming in agony, O�Reilly hunched over clutching his balls, but he still didn�t crumple. Instead, O�Reilly ran out before Jack could stagger to his feet.

He had to hold onto the edge of the desk for a second to get his breath. Ester was hysterical. �I don�t know who that creature is... he somehow got into the second floor, threatening me and dragging me up here. He says Kurt owes him money...�

Jack was on his mobile, holding up his hand for her to stop talking. �Just stay calm, go down and get your security guys lined up, but do it quietly, don�t sound any alarms, say you want them on floor three and wait for instructions. And get as many of the guests out as you can.�

�I don�t know what to say to them, what do I do?�

Jack gripped her by her elbow, shoving her towards the door. �Get down there and do as I tell you. All the security guards to floor three. Do it!�

Jack�s call was connected to the Fulham police station control room. �This is an urgent call. I need to talk to DI Collingwood. I have information about the crucifixion case. Yes, you heard correctly. DI Collingwood. Transfer me to his mobile.�

DI Collingwood had just got home and was parking his car after another long, frustrating day. Recognising the station number, he answered immediately. �DI Collingwood.�

�I don�t have long, it�s Jack Warr.�

Collingwood listened as Jack told him that he was about to make his career go up several notches. �You need to get a team together, pronto.�

Collingwood perched on the hood of his car with his phone to his ear, hardly able to believe what he was hearing as Jack told him he had the identities of their victim and the perpetrator and if Collingwood moved fast, he could make an arrest. He gave him the address of the gallery and said that he would detain the suspect until backup arrived. He also instructed the now shaken Collingwood to get a search warrant for Norman O�Reilly�s home where they would find their victim�s clothes.

�Hang on, Jack, let me contact Morrison first as he�s the SIO...�

�Fuck him. Just move as fast as you can. It won�t be long before things kick off here.�

Collingwood leapt back into his car and was straight on the speaker phone as he reversed out of his drive, barking instructions to the Fulham station incident room as the adrenalin started surging through him. He slapped on the siren and tore his way through the Saturday night traffic.

After making his phone call to Collingwood, Jack found Ester on the stairs crying. He pulled her to her feet. Time was against them and he needed her to listen. She still seemed badly shaken.

�He was saying I�m involved but I�m not, I�m not. I don�t understand.�

Jack put his hands on her shoulders, making her listen to him. �Don�t play any more games with me. Your boss is dead. You need to salvage what you can from this, because you will need protection.�

�Why would I need protection? He�s not dead. He�s not.�

�Listen to me, Detmar�s dead. Take that in, Ester, he�s dead. Now go and do what I asked you because time is running out.�

�Stop shouting at me! I can�t take any of this in.�

�You better had, because any minute now Kurt will be getting people into the floor three gallery, and Christ only knows his intentions. Do you know if any of the security team are armed?�

�I don�t think so. I don�t know.�

�Go now. Do what I told you. I will be right behind you.�

Ester took several deep breaths, wiped away her tears and then nodded, before heading down to the ground floor to speak to the security men.

Jack found the doorman and took him to one side, explaining that he was with the Met police, and that when a team of officers arrived he was to direct them to the third floor.

�Has some bugger stolen one of the artworks?� he asked.

�More serious than that, I�m afraid. Just keep the entrance clear.�

Returning to the reception, Jack passed a few of the guests on their way out, some loudly complaining about their evening having been curtailed. They were not impressed with having half-full champagne flutes taken from their hands and being ushered out without explanation. Jack headed up to the second floor to find Ester standing by the entrance.

�I�ve got the two security men from here up on the third floor, but there�s a lot of guests and I can�t talk to them all discreetly. What about sounding the fire alarm?�

They both stopped in their tracks as they heard the taped announcement. �Ladies, Gentlemen, honoured guests, please make your way to the third-floor gallery as the exhibition is about to begin. Detmar�s prot�g� and partner Kurt Neilson will present his groundbreaking works using oils, acrylic and collages that have never been displayed before this evening.�

�I don�t believe this!� Ester barked, her face contorted with fury as her hands clenched into fists. �Kurt is a pathetic amateur with no talent whatsoever, and his sexual obsession with Detmar is sickening, I can�t believe that he would have the guts to harm him. This is his only way of hurting him because Detmar has genuine talent for discovering great young artists, promoting and exhibiting their work...�

Jack gripped her by her shoulders. �We don�t have time to list all Detmar�s bloody virtues. If you can�t control yourself, you�ll create panic...�

She hunched up, bowing her head, her voice muffled as she pressed herself against him. �I don�t know what to do. Please help me.�

Jack took her face in his hands, his voice calm. �There was a gun in the bedroom upstairs, Ester. Look at me, do you know if Kurt has taken it?�

�I don�t know, I don�t know. He was in there; he was in there earlier.�

Jack gestured to the young woman who had been passing out cloakroom tickets. She looked very confused at so many guests leaving. �Take care of her, get her a brandy or something.� Before she could ask why, he barked, �Just do it!�

Jack moved to the stairs, looking upwards to the remaining guests casually making their way to the third-floor gallery. He saw the glass-walled lift door opening and recognised the long blond braided hair, tonight worn with silk ribbons and a long backless dress, stepping into it. Jack darted forward to grab the door before it closed. Helga looked shocked for a moment before pressing her back against the glass wall as he jabbed at the button to stop the lift.

�You need to get out, and fast,� Jack told her. �Detmar is dead, and any connection you have with him or this gallery will get you arrested and charged with forgery.�

Helga showed little reaction, so he moved closer to her. �I know more about you now, Helga, and if you want to save Adam Border from being brought into this, don�t lie to me anymore.�

�I don�t believe you. Detmar owes me a lot of money.�

Jack pressed the button to open the gate, grabbed her by her shoulder and shoved her out; she even tried to hang onto his jacket before he gave another hard shove and she stumbled backwards as he pressed for the lift door to close. As the lift moved upwards, Helga was approached by one of the security guards encouraging her to leave. This time she didn�t hesitate, hurrying out and hailing a passing taxi without even collecting her wrap from the cloakroom.

By the time Jack got out on the third floor, the double doors to the gallery were wide open and the guests were filing up the stairs. Two security guards were in position as Jack approached. He told them to stop anyone from going inside; there was a fire and they needed to leave the building. There were some very disgruntled and argumentative guests as Jack walked past them to go into the gallery and shut the double doors behind him. The platform was empty but at least twenty people were standing around the draped easels in some confusion. Then through a door at the back of the room, Kurt Neilson swept in, stepping onto the platform and opening his arms wide.

�Welcome. I am Kurt Neilson.� He squinted critically at the meagre crowd in front of him but continued regardless. �You have been invited to see my first and only exhibition. I am very proud to show you the results of my creative endeavours, many works in oils and acrylic, as well as collages.� The crowd might have been sparse, but there was a palpable sense of anticipation in the room, the excitement of art collectors about to get in on the ground floor.

Kurt stepped down from the platform to remove the drape from his first painting. Everyone moved closer. It was a portrait of a woman; her hair had been styled with hundreds of tiny seashells, and in her arms was a small piglet, which she was suckling. He withdrew a drape from a second painting, and this one created more of a murmur. It was a mermaid, her webbed tail and fin covered in pieces of tin foil. Her blond hair was brilliant yellow seaweed, and out of her wide-lipped mouth emerged a fish with a phallic tail.

The astonished guests began whispering, even sniggering, as Jack eased his way around the room. He kept his eyes on Kurt, but he could see no obvious weapon. Jack noted that the two security men were now inside.

Kurt started laughing, then pivoted to the third canvas. Someone said loudly that they had seen enough and this made everyone laugh. Kurt stopped in his tracks, his face twisted with disbelief.

�You have not seen my best work. I was keeping it for the end. But I will quickly show you some of my most recent pieces first.� The third painting was of a red brick building with dolls� faces smeared with makeup at the windows. People began to walk out. Now Kurt was really becoming agitated, swirling around in his robe, his face glistening with sweat as he screamed,

�Wait! I have saved the best for last.� There was laughter around the room. �You two-faced condescending... Look! This is my masterwork: my beloved mentor Detmar Steinburg, Ladies and Gentlemen.�

Kurt had to jump up to unhook the drape from the top of the six-foot canvas. As soon as it was revealed, the laughter instantly stopped, to be replaced with gasps of horror. The figure was crudely painted, his crossed ankles and outstretched hands nailed to the cross with silver bolts. Naked and with deep knife wounds gushing blood, the most appalling part was the head. The figure�s long hair hung loosely to the shoulders but couldn�t disguise the destroyed face, with blood spurting from empty eye sockets, the nose flattened to a pulp and the mouth a mass of broken teeth.

Jack gestured as unobtrusively as possible for the two security guards to move closer. They were now standing on either side of the painting, and Jack was easing into position behind it. After the initial shock, people began to find their voices and they were all angry. There were shouts of �Rubbish!�, �Disgusting!� and �Sickening!� Some of the guests were using their mobiles to take photographs, as others made for the doors to get away from the terrible sight as quickly as they could.

Jack saw Kurt reaching into one of the kaftan�s deep pockets and shouted out for the security guards to grab him. But, in that instant, Jack knew Kurt would get to the gun first. As he hurled his body at Kurt, he could see the silver Glock pistol butt. Jack knocked him sideways as the two security guards grabbed an arm each. Kurt was kicking and writhing, but the three of them managed to hold him down while Jack wrenched the Glock from his hands and pushed it out of reach.

They flipped Kurt onto his front so that the security guards could cuff him, allowing Jack to retrieve the weapon and flick the safety catch on.

�Shoot me! Go on!� Kurt screamed, as Jack grabbed one of the cords that had been holding the painting�s drapes to tie Kurt�s feet.

Jack turned to the stunned guests. �You all need to exit the gallery � now!� Only then did he hear the police sirens wailing, but it was still a few minutes before DI Collingwood and three uniformed officers burst into the room.

Collingwood had done his best in the time he had but had only brought six officers. Three were downstairs in the reception area as the guests were all pushing to leave. It was pandemonium, with screams and shouts from those who had witnessed the horrific unveiling. Eventually Collingwood gave instructions for everyone to remain in the main gallery until he had taken their statements.

Jack remained with the two security guards standing over the hysterical Kurt, his hands and feet now restrained, but still twisting his body back and forth like a captured animal, until Collingwood instructed his officers to take him into custody. They replaced the cord with leg straps before dragging Kurt to his feet, ready to bundle him into the waiting patrol car, while he continued swearing, spitting and trying to bite them. As they pulled a spit hood down over his face, Kurt turned his venom onto Jack, alternately snarling and sobbing while repeating over and over, �Kill Me! Kill me!�

Jack remained with Collingwood as he explained in more detail what had happened, handing him the hairs from the brush and comb for DNA analysis to verify that their victim was Detmar Steinburg. Even if the painting made it obvious that Kurt Neilson had committed the murder, everything would still have to be proven beyond doubt. Collingwood was finding it difficult to take in everything Jack was saying. He made copious notes, while constantly taking deep breaths and wiping sweat from his palms.

�You have to arrest O�Reilly and search his address asap.�

�I�m still waiting for the warrant.� Collingwood saw Jack roll his eyes in disbelief. �It�s a Saturday evening, Jack. Trying to find a bloody magistrate is murder.�

Jack nodded. �When you do get it, you�ll find even more evidence in O�Reilly�s house. And he was here tonight demanding money.�

�O�Reilly was here?�

�Yes, I won�t waste your time with all the details now. But I am pretty certain he�s the one who cleaned up the framer�s shop and is also involved in Detmar�s other business... the illegal sale of forged paintings.�

Collingwood took another deep breath. This case was getting stranger by the minute. �Listen Jack, I have to ask you this, because it seems like you�re right at the heart of it��

Jack interjected. �I was suspicious after seeing you all at the ICU. Don�t forget bloody Morrison has been questioning me about being caught on CCTV at the murder site! I wasn�t going to do nothing. I just started to put a few things together, but you take the kudos. Say it was an anonymous tip-off, because I�m out of here.�

�Jack, wait, you can�t just walk away.�

�Yes I can. There�s a woman here, Ester. She was Steinburg�s personal assistant for a long time. She should be taken in for questioning. For Christ�s sake Collingwood, don�t waste any more time. She�s loyal, so right now she�ll be clearing out anything incriminating. She cries easily, but she�s a good liar so don�t be fooled. Detmar Steinburg was a very rich man. There�s a hidden room off the office. You�ll find it.�

Collingwood watched Jack walk away, wondering whether he should have allowed him to do so. But he had so much to deal with already, he really had no choice. First off, he needed to find O�Reilly. He would use the �anonymous tip� angle and made a note to talk to whoever had received the call at the station, hoping it would not be traceable back to him. Collingwood had not felt such an adrenalin buzz before in his entire career. Now that his team had secured the gallery and the surrounding scene and were starting to take statements, he decided to go up to the fourth floor and find Steinburg�s assistant. One of his officers was coming down as he headed up the stairs.

�Anyone up here?�

�Yes, Sir, woman in the office. She refused to come out; I was just coming down to get a female officer.�

Collingwood continued up to the fourth floor, recalling what Jack said about a hidden room. He did a quick check of the bathroom, toilets and secretaries� office before entering into the main office.

�Ester?�

She was taken aback, staring at him, standing by the shredding machine. He moved quickly towards her. �I�m Detective Inspector Collingwood. Stop what you�re doing.� Ester hit the stop button. �Are you Ester?�

�Yes. I�m Ester Langton.�

�I�ll need a statement from you, and I�ll also need your passport.�

�I�m afraid I don�t have it here. Why do you want it? I�m not involved.�

�This is a murder investigation, Miss Langton, and as you were Mr Steinburg�s personal assistant, you most certainly are involved. I just need to find out how.� As Collingwood reached out to take the bag from her, she stepped back.

�These are personal items and if you want them, I will need to see a warrant.�

�Miss Langton, I can arrest you.�

�For?�

He was becoming impatient with her now and reached behind him to remove the handcuffs from his back pocket.

�Ester Langton, I�m arresting you on suspicion of art fraud and...�

She took him by surprise by darting past him. He didn�t bother to chase after her, he simply got on his radio with instructions to detain the woman legging it from the fourth floor.

Collingwood checked through the shredded papers, which appeared to be letters and there was a further stack ready to be shredded. He left everything in place to be collected by uniformed officers.

By the time he reached the ground floor, Ester was handcuffed and being led out. Her hair had fallen loose from the coil at the nape of her neck and now hung limply to her shoulders. Her eye makeup had run, making dark black circles around her eyes, and even her lipstick was smudged. The usually immaculate, controlling woman running the most prestigious gallery alongside the handsome Detmar Steinburg was a mess.

Ester Langton sobbed hysterically during most of her interview with Collingwood. She admitted that she had been shredding private correspondence when he found her, desperate to avoid any further scandal, but claimed to know nothing about Steinburg�s death.

�He had no family. We had worked together for ten years... I was the person closest to him,� she said, visibly upset.

Collingwood hesitated before asking his next question, knowing the horrific state of Steinburg�s injuries. �Would you be willing to identify him?�

�Yes,� she said without hesitation, then added. �I want to do it now.�

�Interview suspended,� Collingwood said, turning the recorder off.

�Kurt killed him, didn�t he?� Ester said, tight-lipped.

�We have reason to believe so,� Collingwood admitted. �But he hasn�t been interviewed yet. Thank you for agreeing to make the identification. There are some things I need to do first. Please bear with me.�

Collingwood left the interview room and rang the mortuary at St Thomas�s Hospital. The night staff were not very cooperative, but at his insistence, they agreed to move the body to their viewing area despite the lateness of the hour. Ester�s lawyer followed them in her car and Collingwood sat beside Ester in the patrol car, explaining it was likely to be a very disturbing experience. He hoped Ester would be able to make the identification without having to see his ruined face.

Ester held her lawyer�s hand as they arrived at the mortuary and remained silent as they signed the necessary paperwork before being allowed through to the viewing room. There was one mortuary attendant, a young man with round glasses, who took a long time to find the switch for the lights. The body was lying on a gurney entirely covered by a white linen sheet. They stood to one side as the attendant removed the covering from Detmar�s head before Collingwood could stop him.

They had done their best to disguise the injuries. His eyelids were sewn closed, as was his mouth, so his smashed and broken teeth could not be seen. His broken, flattened nose had been filled with wadding, but nothing could disguise the bruising and disfigurement.

�Is this Detmar Steinburg?� Collingwood asked quietly.

Ester cocked her head from side to side, leaning forwards and showing no emotion, taking a long time staring from one side to the other of the dead man.

�Can I see his left hand?�

The cloth was lifted. This time the assistant was careful not to show the wound where the iron nail had impaled his wrist, and Ester, for the first time, showed a reaction.

�He wore a large gold signet ring on his little finger.�

�That was not with his body,� Collingwood confirmed before asking her again if it was Detmar Steinburg. Ester looked at the battered face again. Her �yes� was hardly audible as she turned and hurried out with her lawyer.

Collingwood had to walk briskly after them to the car park and only just managed to thank Ester for her cooperation before they drove out. Although he had done a few identification viewings, he had never experienced one where there was such a lack of visible emotion.

Jack was in his office surfing the internet for news coverage of the gallery incident when Maggie started shouting for him to come downstairs.

�It�s the news,� she declared. �It just started a second ago.�

�Christ, I thought something was wrong.� He moved to her side in front of their latest purchase, a wall-mounted TV. On screen, a senior Scotland Yard officer was standing with DCI Mark Morrison at a press conference. Jack just caught the last few moments as they announced that they had identified the framer�s shop victim as the art dealer Detmar Steinburg. A suspect had been charged and was due before the magistrates� court, where he would be remanded in custody pending trial. DCI Morrison then said that anyone who had been at Steinburg�s Bond Street gallery the previous evening should contact Fulham police station if they had any mobile phone footage that might assist in their enquiry.

The programme then continued with news of further rail strikes before Maggie turned the sound down. �You haven�t told me what happened there last night. Who�s their suspect?�

�He was Steinburg�s partner, Kurt Neilson, a real nutcase who�d taken over the gallery for a private showing of his own paintings. I have to say, if you saw it, you�d understand why it had never been exhibited before. It was all truly awful. But the last one was really sick... he�d painted his lover on the cross.�

�What?�

�You�ve never seen anything like it. It caused pandemonium, and things got worse when he pulled a gun. I think he was about to shoot himself rather than anyone else. Anyway, he was arrested and carted out.�

�That call I made to you... let me get it up on my laptop because it�s freaky.�

He hesitated before following Maggie out. �I told you last night about how important it was, Mags. You hit the nail on the head. I�m sure I don�t need to see it.� But Maggie wasn�t going to be deterred.

Maggie had left her laptop on Jack�s desk. She sat in his chair as she brought up the articles on Joe Orton, his murder and the suicide of his partner Kenneth Halliwell. Jack leaned in as she scrolled through one article after another, and then, on the screen, they saw Halliwell�s paintings.

�Ironic, isn�t it? Because of the murder, Halliwell�s paintings have finally become worth buying, not that I think they�re very nice.� Maggie turned off her laptop. �You know something, Jack. You didn�t watch the whole of The Third Man; and I know you were too tired to listen the last time I explained it to you. But the film is basically about a friendship. One man tries to trace his friend in Vienna after the Second World War and discovers he�s now a criminal, involved in the drug trade, so he hunts him down, finally cornering him in the sewers.�

�And?� Jack said, getting up from the desk.

�Well, I have a theory. Adam actually describes Detmar Steinburg, or whatever his name is, as being in a similar relationship to Joe Orton. He was his dealer, wasn�t he?�

Jack nodded, frowning.

�Mags, where are you going with this?�

�Let me just think this through. I asked if you thought Adam could have been involved in Steinburg�s murder. Only then you weren�t sure he was even the victim.�

�That�s why I went to the gallery. To find out if Steinburg was alive. To be honest, until I saw the body in the ICU, I wasn�t sure whether Adam was the victim.�

Maggie swung round in Jack�s swivel chair and reached out to take his hand. �You know something, Jack. I think Adam was warning you not to trust him, and at the same time, I think he was tipping you off... no, that�s not the right word... giving you some insight into his dealer because he was already planning to leave him.�

�You could be right.�

�I think he cares for you too, Jack, in whatever blunted emotional way he can.�

He took her by the hands and drew her up to stand, wrapping his arms around her. �Maybe,� he said dubiously. �And I didn�t tell you about Helga.�

She was at the gallery trying to collect money she was owed, a hundred thousand quid... in fact, I told her to get out before the police arrived. According to Ester, she was a valued client, making introductions to rich collectors. She was obviously working for Steinburg... he even rented the property in Haslemere for her. She lied, of course, denying ever knowing him and swore she did not know where Adam was. She said vanishing was what he always did.�

Maggie shook her head. �I think the further away you are from this entire situation, the better. You mustn�t get roped in any more than you already have been.�

�Yeah, I know.� Jack tapped her laptop. �And thank you for this. It�s incredible that a woman as intelligent as you can be bothered with an ignorant prat like me.�

�I am bothered because I love you. And yes, you may be ignorant, but you�re good, kind... and sexy as hell in that James Bond get-up you had on last night. I couldn�t wait for you to come home.�

�When I did you were fast asleep.�

�I�m wide awake now, Detective Warr.�

Jack arrived at the station after a frustrating journey, as the tube had been delayed and the bus was not even running. The canteen was not that busy, so he grabbed a tray and was passing along the line when Laura walked in.

�Jack, can you grab me some brown toast? I�ll get us coffee.�

He ordered two more rounds of brown toast before his order of scrambled eggs and bacon was served.

�Did you hear the news?� she asked excitedly as he sat down with the tray.

�It�s been a busy weekend; we had to take the family to meet the vicar for Charlie�s christening.�

�For goodness� sake, don�t tell me you haven�t seen it in this morning�s papers.� Laura started spreading butter on her toast. �DCI Morrison identified the victim, the one from Portobello Road that you were asking about; turns out he�s a famous art dealer. And his boyfriend was arrested for the murder. It�s all over the news this morning and Morrison was on TV yesterday speaking from Scotland Yard.�

�He must be creaming himself,� Jack smiled. �That�s a big arrest.�

�I know. And...� She rooted around in her bag. �You�ll probably get one as well.� Laura handed Jack a postcard. �It�s from Josh. He�s retired to Florida.�

Jack looked at the postcard, turning it over to read Josh�s message. This was the second thing in as many minutes Jack had to feign ignorance about.

�He deserves it. I owe him a lot.�

�So have you got a date for the christening?� she asked, munching her toast.

�A couple of months� time. Maybe there�s a rehearsal too? We do one of those, don�t we? I wasn�t really listening. I guess you�ll be at that. And we�ll probably hire out a restaurant for a party afterwards. I think that�s what Maggie has in mind.� Jack had eaten his large breakfast in the same time it had taken for Laura to eat her small one and he now had indigestion. He burped, apologised, then picked up his coffee. He really didn�t want to talk about the Detmar Steinburg murder anymore.

�See you up there,� he said, moving off.

Laura picked up the bacon fat he had left and folded a slice of brown toast around it. She thought about Jack�s interest in the man she now knew to be Detmar Steinburg. She knew something didn�t quite add up, but then, hardly anything did if Jack Warr was involved.

In the incident room, Jack, along with several other officers, was soon dealing with social services and legal aid for two teenage boys they were holding, while knives found in their son�s bedrooms were still being brought in by concerned parents. Each item had to be logged, dated and confiscated safely. Armani had been in DCI Clarke�s office for forty minutes, and Jack assumed they were discussing the possible repercussions from the death of the teenage gang member who had been questioned and released.

Laura was assigned a burglary that had occurred at a local pub early on Sunday morning. Thieves had broken in and attempted to smash open the till but the pub had very good CCTV cameras and, as the pub closed at eleven, it was quite an easy process to forward the footage to the right point, as the alarm had been activated at 2.15 a.m. It was late afternoon when Laura returned from the viewing room. By now, she had numerous photographs of the burglars which she was pinning up on the big noticeboard as Jack passed her desk on his way to the cells.

�Look at these, Jack. The two girls don�t look over twelve or thirteen years old, and the boy can�t be more than, what, fourteen?�

�I know who and where he is,� Jack said, pointing to the boy. Even with a black hoodie on, he recognised him as Jason Marks, aged 18. �He was arrested for carrying a machete and is still down in the cells.�

�Bloody brilliant, thank you, does he have any previous?�

Jack smiled as he passed her the file. �He�s already lawyered up with the fragrant Sonia Billings. I�d get him brought up for more questioning.�

�Will do. You heard anything further about Morrison�s arrest? Oh, I meant to tell you...� She leaned in close. �After you left for the weekend, Cruella caught me in the loo, said she wanted a word. She almost pinned me up against the washbasin. Anyway, she said it was unethical for me to be at Fulham. I really saw red and told her it was none of her business, then she said she knew about my relationship with a married DCI.�

�What, Morrison?�

�Yeah. I was gobsmacked. Apparently, she found out before she dumped him. I�m regretting that quickie we had after the Italian. Never again, right? Always knew he was a shithead.� Laura took the file, giving Jack the thumbs-up. She went over to the probationary officer she had been working alongside, to get Jason Marks brought from the cells and into an interview room.

Jack had stopped off for a quick pint in his local pub, and to read the Evening Standard for any update on the fire at the gallery. It didn�t take long to discover there was no real news, and he tossed the paper into a bin as he started the fifteen-minute walk home. It was getting dark when he turned into his street and saw the car. About twenty yards ahead, a black Mercedes flashed its headlights. He paused, and the car flashed its lights again. He quickened his pace, coming abreast of the car. There was a driver wearing a chauffeur�s hat looking straight ahead, and Jack was about to rap on the window when the rear passenger door opened, and the interior lights came on.

Helga was sitting on the far side of the back seat, swathed in some kind of white fur. She gestured for Jack to get into the car. When he hesitated, she leaned across. �I do not have very much time.� He got in beside her and closed the door. The interior light went out, and Helga leaned forward to the driver. �Do you mind leaving us for five minutes? I need a private conversation.� Her driver half turned towards her, clearly not liking the instruction, then got out and closed the door.

�What are you doing here?� Jack asked angrily.

�Don�t get tetchy with me,� she said calmly. �I spoke to a very nice lady this morning and she told me you were due back early this evening, so here I am. I have been waiting for quite some time.�

She rummaged briefly in her handbag. �I also promise you that this time, I do have a plane to catch. I am on my way to Dubai. Here, this is my ticket,� she waved it in front of him.

�What do you want?�

�Two things, first to tell you some good news and the reason there was some urgency in being paid what was owed to me. Adam has found a young man, a scientist, who has discovered a way around the problem he was so concerned about. Do you remember we discussed that art experts have discovered radiocarbon as a method of dating paintings?�

Jack nodded, hating the fact he was sitting next to her right outside his family home.

�Well, there has been some satisfactory development, but it is very expensive and obviously illegal. Without having that as surety, the thought of taking two or more years before his work is completed was something he was concerned about.�

�Where is he?�

�He was in Arizona, I think he was perhaps in Berlin also, but I have no idea if Adam is still there or not.�

Jack reached out to open the door.

�Wait,� she said sharply. �Please, I doubt if I will be returning to London for a long time, and I wanted to explain something about what I do. It has taken me years to build up my list of wealthy clients. They are billionaires that want a Renoir or whatever and can pay for it. I connect them with someone who can find what they want.�

�Is that what you have been doing for Detmar?�

�Yes, for many years, but recently he was becoming too greedy. You have to understand that Detmar had to spend a vast amount of money to show that he was wealthy and successful.� She gave a soft laugh. �In reality he owned nothing. His properties were all short-term leases, and that included his galleries. It was all a house of cards.�

�So how do you make your money?�

�I get a cut of the sales, that is if my introductions pay dividends.�

�Even if you are selling fakes?�

�I am not selling any such thing. I am simply introducing people with great wealth to exclusive dealers. Whether or not they proceed to pass on a fake work of art has nothing to do with me.�

Jack shook his head, laughing, and again he went to open the door when she reached out and held his arm.

�I also want to thank you, Jack. I could have been involved in that horror on Saturday night. Ester made sure I was paid off and more this morning. But she cannot be trusted, and right now, with Detmar gone, she will be stealing anything she can lay her nasty hands on.�

�You mean what�s left after the fire?�

Helga laughed again. �Convenient, that it was only the top floor, no?�

He was unsure what to say to that. She reached into her bag again. �I must go, and by the way, this is not my car or my chauffeur... it�s only a top-of-the-range Uber.� She took out a thick white envelope. �This is for you. I doubt we will meet again, so this is me thanking you.� She signalled to the driver who opened the driver�s door and got in. She turned away and Jack got out.

He stood on the pavement with the envelope in his hand as the car glided away. There was so much more he had wanted to ask � should have asked � but he hadn�t wanted to spend any more time than he had to in her company, just yards from his front door. He opened the envelope. Inside were several bundles of crisp new fifty-pound notes tied with an elastic band. He quickly counted it. Twenty thousand pounds. He put the money back in the envelope and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. �Fuckin� hell,� he muttered, quickly looking around, to make sure no one had seen.

As soon as Jack walked in, Maggie shouted for him to come into the dining room where Penny and Hannah were waiting, along with a smiling Marius.

�Now don�t get angry,� Maggie began, �but with you earning again and my wages, and we have a few quid left in the joint account, what do you think? Marius says he can break through this wall and...�

�Just wait a minute. It looks to me as if you�ve already decided. To my mind, we don�t really need all this extra work done.�

�The reason is, Jack, I�ve decided to save money for the christening party. We�ll have everyone here, which means we�ll need a bigger space.�

Jack sighed, shaking his head. He turned to Marius. �What�ll it cost?�

Marius stroked his chin. �I�d say for a cash deal, two and a half thousand, and that�ll include the plastering and RSJ for the main wall.�

Jack felt the weight of the money in his jacket pocket. He was eager to get up to his office to stash the money somewhere safe. �OK, I give in.�

Maggie clapped her hands and gave Marius a high-five.

Upstairs, Jack duct-taped the cash under the seats of a plastic toy cart that Hannah had grown out of and stuffed it in a corner. Only then did he start to relax. He physically jumped when Maggie came in carrying Charlie.

�Wait until you see how fast he can crawl now,� she said, putting him gently down. He quickly started beetling around the office on all fours.

Jack laughed. �Very impressive.� He scooped Charlie into his arms before he could get stuck under the desk.

�By the way, did you take a call for me this morning?� Jack asked.

�At the house? I was at work.� She held her arms out. �Let me take him and get him ready for bed.� She was almost out of the door when she turned. �I know it will really look terrific, Jack, and thank you for agreeing. Oh, did you have a good day at work?�

�Not so bad... I�m on a late tomorrow, so I won�t be back until after nine.�

�Put it on the diary board. I�m on the early shift. Oh, I saw it was on the six o�clock news about the fire at the gallery.�

�Yeah, there was something in the Standard,� he said as she went downstairs. He took a couple of deep breaths before following her down to the kitchen. Penny was feeding Hannah at the table as he went over to check this latest family schedule.

�Did you take a call for me this morning, Mum?�

�No, dear, I went to do a grocery shop after taking Hannah to school, I think Gladys may have as there was a message, but it just said someone had called for you. I told her to always put down the name of the caller but to be honest, I don�t think she really understands very well, and her writing is shocking.�

�I am doing joined writing,� Hannah said.

Penny nodded and smiled at her. �She is doing very well at this new school � oh, and there�s a parents� meeting next week. I�ve put it on the board, so you and Maggie can hopefully both go.�

�I am going to do ballet, and I have to wear a tutu and ballet shoes and a pink stretchy thing,� Hannah said.

�Oh yes, I need to ask Maggie about that,� Penny said. �There�s a shop in the West End that sells ballet shoes and leotards. It�s a bit expensive, but we don�t want her to be the odd one out. It�s also after school � the ballet teacher is a professional. From the stage. It�s ten pounds a lesson.�

�Fine, whatever she needs,� Jack said.

�Well, I thought it was a tad expensive, but if you agree, I�ll tell Maggie and organise it with her class teacher.�

Jack shrugged, looking at the markings on the wall indicating where the hole would be knocked through into the dining room. He could not imagine what it was going to be like. All he could think of was that cash strapped under the cart in his office. �Thank you, Helga,� he murmured under his breath.

In the incident room, Jack was working through another set of statements, court dates and magistrates� schedules, trying hard to stay awake. Laura on the other hand couldn�t sit still, she was so frustrated with the Jason Marks case.

�That slippery lawyer of his is going to spring him, even though he was caught on camera red-handed. He�s got previous, I just know it.�

�Why don�t you just let it go,� Jack said.

Laura showed no sign she�d heard him. �I�m going to have one more search. I�d really like to get one over that bloody woman.�

Laura went off to the records department as Jack continued working at his desk. He would have to have a meeting with DCI Clarke to talk about the overload of cases instigated by Armani�s gang strategy.

Laura logged into the main records computer and immediately noticed that Jack Warr had also been down there recently, as everyone using the computer had to log the date and time of access. Curious to know what he had been checking out, she brought up the old case that both of them had worked on. It had been a major double operation with the drug squad and Ridley, investigating the murder of an elderly woman. She was fast forwarding through details about the lengthy search for a suspect, Adam Border, the victim�s son. About to close the file, she stopped, as photographs of Border from childhood to his teenage years came up on the screen. She sat back, frowning, moving the curser back and forth until she enlarged one profile, the teenager wearing a baseball cap. Laura suddenly remembered having d�j� vu at Fulham station as she looked at the photograph of a man wanted for questioning in connection with the murder at the framer�s shop. It was Adam Border.

At the same time, O�Reilly was being brought up from the cells and taken into an interview room. Morrison was waiting for him. After Collingwood had gone through the usual preliminaries, Morrison told O�Reilly he was under arrest on suspicion of aiding and abetting Kurt Neilson in the murder of Detmar Steinburg, perverting the course of justice and assaulting Ester Langton on the night of the art show in the Steinburg gallery.

�Right, Norman, let�s start from what happened on the night of the 14th. You have previously claimed that you were in Southampton all afternoon and evening, but we now know that was a lie. So tell us exactly what occurred that evening.�

�Right, I had only just arrived. As far as I was concerned, I�d missed the pick-up for the crates. Then I got a call, saying it was urgent I return to London.�

�Who was the caller?�

�It was Kurt Neilson, and he was blazing angry because I had locked the door into the main sales room of the shop. I�d left the back door open to the yard because a market stall-holder used to leave her trestle table in the shop for her to set up on the Saturday.�

Morrison tapped the table with a pencil. �But you knew you were not returning that Saturday.�

�That�s right, but I forgot, and to be honest, I was nervous because I was worried about not making it to Southampton in time for the collection. I had already had a run-in with Kurt on Friday morning. He had this cross delivered, enormous bloody thing, and it was taking up a lot of space in the shop. I had asked when it was being moved out. I never knew, you see, when I�d get a delivery of frames, they could come without any warning, and that�s another reason I left the yard gates open because they sometimes delivered them at night.�

�Get back to the Friday, Mr O�Reilly.�

�Right, well, he�s screaming at me that I was going to be out of a job because he�d left some important invitations in the shop when he�d been there earlier, and I was even more stressed because I�d forgotten I�d picked them up and put them into my big shoulder bag.�

�Friday, Mr O�Reilly. I�m getting impatient.�

�I drove straight there. I needed this job � it was good money, and I made good time; the doors to the yard were open, and I drove in. I had the keys to the front of the shop � it�s a heavy-duty lock because that�s where the good frames and paintings are kept.�

�Which entrance are you talking about? The main door of the shop or the internal one?�

�Both have strong locks and there�s a bolt on the main front door. Portobello Road can be a dodgy place, thieves�ll break in if you�re not careful. The back�s all storage, so leaving that open is less of a big deal really. You can�t get into the main part of the shop through the yard, you need to go through an inside, locked door.�

�So, you were there to open the internal door, right?�

�Yes, exactly. But Kurt had smashed in the door from the yard, so I got out of the van and walked in. He must have used a jemmy or something. Anyway, he was in there, and he looked madder than ever. I was shaking when I searched in my bag for the keys because no lights were on, and I said I�d got the invitations and...� He paused.

�Go on.� Morrison leaned forwards over the table.

�He said he needed me to do something for him. He said he had some cash, but there would be a lot more. He said he would pay fifty thousand quid if I agreed to help him. I mean, that is a lot of money. I asked how I could trust him for that amount of money, and then he switched the light on.�

If O�Reilly was acting, Morrison thought he was doing it very well as his whole body was shaking. He tried to catch his breath, opening and shutting his mouth like a fish. Morrison glanced at Collingwood as they waited.

�The floor was covered in blood, pools of it. I mean, it was everywhere, and that�s when I saw his suit was splattered with it. He said if I cleared the place up, he�d pay me the fifty grand. There had been some sexual thing that had got out of hand...�

�Did you see the victim?�

�No, well, not exactly. There was a rolled-up carpet in a corner. It could have been in there.�

�So, what happened next?�

�I had some containers of bleach, and I got a mop and buckets and started cleaning whatever I could and then used a hose pipe that was attached to a tap in the yard. I was out in the yard brushing the water down the drain, then, when I went back in, the carpet had been moved into the main shop because he�d opened the door. I was still spraying more bleach everywhere and using the mop to wipe down the walls. It took about two hours before he was satisfied, and then he said that I�d done a good job but there was one more thing I had to do.�

O�Reilly was sweating, constantly wiping his face with the back of his hands. Morrison passed him a bottle of water. He drank a few gulps before putting the bottle down.

�I had to get rid of the carpet, and he handed me this carrier bag full of stuff, he said not to chuck it all in the same place but to spread it around. I heaved the carpet into a dumpster in White City as I was heading back to Southampton. I was driving around looking for somewhere else and was at Shepherds Bush... there were a lot of waste bins, so I reckoned it would be as good as anywhere. I parked up and opened the back of the van. The bag was full of bloodstained clothes, and that�s when I had second thoughts. I reckoned I should keep them as evidence if Kurt didn�t pay up, so I would have a bargaining chip.�

Morrison nodded, picked up his pen and tapped the desk again. �So where did you get the money to pay Miss Curtis? Five hundred pounds, right?�

�Oh, right, yes, he gave me that before I left.�

�So, what else was in the carrier bag? Did you look through it?�

�No, I did not. I was still scared shitless, excuse me, but I wanted to get back to Southampton.�

�No credit cards, driving licence, no kind of identification?�

�That�s right, and I gave Miss Curtis the money I�d promised

her later in the week after I�d hidden the bag in the dog kennel out in my backyard because by now, I knew I was going to be in big trouble about what had gone down in the shop. You know, Kurt had always been helpful, and we got on because, in the old days, I�d done a bit of boxing, not in his league, he was a middle-weight and could have been a champion, used to be known as The Panther, the way he moved like a dancer. But on his first big amateur fight before turning pro he got, not a really hard punch, but more of a winger to his jaw and he was out like a light. They found out he�d got a glass chin, so that was the end of his fight career. With his looks, I think he did some modelling, but I also knew not to question him on all the money he flashed around, �cause he could turn on you and get very nasty.� He paused as if thinking something over. �I suppose that was what happened to the bloke in the carpet.�

Collingwood had been trying to reach Jack all day. He called him at home and spoke to Penny, who told him he�d be at the station. At the station he was told Jack was unavailable. And the mobile number he had for Jack was dead. So far, Jack had been lucky. The officers working on the phone camera footage had tried to get Morrison�s attention all morning and when he finally agreed to accompany them to the viewing room, he was called to a meeting with Detective Superintendent Broadbent. But Collingwood knew it couldn�t last.

Unaware of all this, Jack, along with Laura, was taking a statement from a frail elderly woman who had called 999 to say she had murdered her husband. He had been found in his wing-back chair with a plastic bag tied around his head, his feet resting on the chair�s footrest. She explained that they could not afford to send her terminally ill husband to Switzerland for the end-of-life programme, so when he had begged her to help him die, she had decided to do it herself. She said he was in terrible pain and had been for the past ten years. She said all this through quiet sobs as she sat on a sofa crying in the little drawing room, surrounded by officers. A doctor had already been called, and a care worker was also on the way.

Jack told them all to leave the crime scene, then crouched down in front of her, talking to her in a soothing voice, gently explaining that she would have to be taken to the station to be interviewed.

What a Jekyll and Hyde character you are, Jack Warr, Laura thought.

Eventually Jack and Laura left it to the uniforms and returned to the station. This time they were in the same squad car. Jack seemed tired, resting his head against the window and closing his eyes.

�I was down in the records department earlier,� Laura said. �You know, still trying to find out about that little thug I�ve had in for the burglary. Are you listening?�

Jack grunted. �Did you find anything?�

�I did, actually. But not what I was looking for. I noticed that you logged in a few days ago.� Jack turned to look at her, but she wouldn�t meet his eye. She continued, still not looking at him. �I don�t know if you remember, I told you when I was at Fulham, in their incident room, I saw your photograph pinned up, alongside another man wanted for questioning.�

�Yes, I remember.� He still kept looking at her.

�I said I had a sort of d�j� vu.�

�What are you trying to tell me Laura?�

�You accessed that file, the big drug bust when you and I spent months trying to trace the prime suspect.�

�Yeah, we did.�

�It was Adam Border, Jack. I recognised him from an old photo in the file. Ridley kept him on the wanted list. I think he still is.� Jack turned away and stared out of the window. �You know it was him. I just don�t understand why you never said. I mean, why?�

�He has nothing to do with the murder, they�ve got the killer, just forget it,� Jack said.

�Do you know what can happen to you if this gets out?� Laura persisted. �Not only is he still wanted, but you could be charged with withholding evidence.�

�So what do you intend to do about it?� Jack asked her.

�You could lose your entire career if it got out Jack, I mean why have you lied?�

�Mind your own fuckin� business, Laura!� Jack said in a low voice. �Just forget about it.�

She had never seen that quiet, icy anger before; his dark eyes frightened her. Could this really be the same man who had just treated the old lady with such gentleness? They passed the rest of the journey in silence.

Seventy-year-old Henry Montgomery, art critic and collector, was being interviewed on the Channel Five news, and the story he had to tell was a sensational one. In a quietly authoritative tone, he described being behind a group of other guests when Neilson began showing his artworks. He then described the unveiling of the final painting, the crowd�s shocked reaction and the moment Neilson pulled out a gun, before a young man literally hurled himself through the air to disarm him.

�Whoever that young man was, he was a hero. God knows how many lives he saved with his act of bravery.� That last quote soon went viral, but it was the mobile footage that went with it that really caused a sensation, clearly showing the ghastly painting and then, like a scene from an action movie, Jack recklessly throwing himself at the deranged artist.

When Jack arrived home, he had no idea that speculation about the gallery hero�s identity was now spreading like wildfire on the internet. Maggie was not due home until seven, and Penny had collected Hannah at three with Charlie. Jack assumed they were up in the nursery, so made himself a coffee and was about to go and check on them when he heard a commotion upstairs. Penny rushed out of the nursery shouting for Hannah. Seeing Jack, she stopped in her tracks.

�Oh, Jack! You�re on TV! I want Hannah to see you. Go in, hurry up!�

�What on earth are you...?� Jack was about to follow her when his mobile rang and, at the same time, the doorbell went. He took his phone out of his pocket and he went back down the stairs to open the front door. Collingwood and a uniformed officer were on his doorstep and a patrol car with its blue light flashing was in the driveway.

�Sorry about this, Jack... I�ve been instructed to bring you to the station.�

�Am I under arrest? What the hell is going on?�

Collingwood stepped forward, motioning the officer to wait. �Morrison is after you like a mad bull,� he said in a low voice. �Mobile footage from the gallery has gone viral, and you�re in loads of it. The media is going mental.� He leaned closer. �Morrison will ask you if it was you who gave me the tip-off, but I�ve said nothing.�

The blue light on the patrol car had now drawn Penny to the stairs, and seeing Jack with Collingwood, she began to run down.

�What�s happened? Is it Maggie?�

Jack turned to her with a calming gesture. �It�s nothing, Mum, I have to go into the station, something�s come up. Tell Maggie I�ll call her.�

Hannah came running down the stairs calling out �Daddy! Daddy!� and hurled herself into his arms. �I saw you on TV!�

�Daddy has to leave, you be a good girl and go with Nana.� Penny had to pull Hannah free from him, and held onto her as Jack grabbed his jacket from the hall stand and walked out with Collingwood.

Once they were in the car, Jack tuned to Collingwood. �I�ve been caught up with a case all afternoon, what the hell is going on?�

Collingwood leaned back, closing his eyes. �You haven�t seen any TV news or the papers?�

�For Christ�s sake, I�ve been at work all day... what�s so urgent that you have to come to my home and take me out in front of my daughter?�

Collingwood kept his voice low. �There�s footage of you tackling Kurt Neilson to the floor all over the media. Everybody wants to know who the big hero is. You better get your story straight, Jack, or withholding information is going to be the least you get done for.�

Maggie perched anxiously on the edge of the chair, watching all the footage, even pausing to go back and repeat some sequences, especially the interviews which had references to the mysterious man who had taken charge.

First there was the doorman. He had been shaken by the arrival of the police but had been warned by a young man to expect them and told to assist in ushering as many guests as possible from the premises.

Next came a young student who had been hired as a waitress. She recalled being told to lead guests out from the main reception area by one of the security guards and another man who she thought was working there. She said she became frightened when some guests left without claiming their coat tickets.

Maggie could not believe how many times Jack was visible, either shepherding guests down the staircase or standing at the top of another staircase shouting for people to get back. He seemed to be on virtually all the videos taken on mobile phones.

The most striking thing was that despite all the chaos, he always looked calm and in control, quietly assuring and encouraging the panicked guests. Together with the fact that they kept referring to him as �the hero�, it made her want to break down in tears. It shocked her that when he arrived home, he had not even mentioned the trauma he had been through, and it made her wretchedly sad and then angry. It reminded her of the feelings he had concealed during the period of his near breakdown.

Sometimes, it felt that she really didn�t know him, how much he held in, how much he kept hidden from her and she felt not just hurt, but frightened. Their jokes about James Bond suddenly didn�t seem funny anymore.

Maggie heard the landline ringing and ran down to the kitchen to pick it up.

�Mags, it�s me.�

�Jack, are you all right?�

�Not too bad. They�re holding me here at Fulham, and I wanted to tell you that I might not get home tonight, so don�t worry.�

�Don�t worry? Jack, I am worried sick. I�ve been watching all the footage...�

�Listen, I can�t talk long, but I want you to check the pocket of my dinner jacket. There should be something in the side pocket. Don�t say anything about it, not now... just keep it safe. It might be very important.�

�Jack, is this something to do with��

He interrupted her before she could say Adam Border, his voice firm, almost angry. �Don�t say any names now, Mags. I know who you�re referring to. Just wait until I call again, and in the meantime do the one thing for me.�

�Of course, but please don�t protect him. This is serious, isn�t it?�

�Just know I love you, and I�ll be home soon.� He ended the call.

Maggie stood holding the phone in her hand for a moment, before slowly replacing it. She wanted to scream or shout or do something because she felt so useless. She went into the bedroom, opened the wardrobe, took out his dinner jacket, felt in one pocket after another, and finally found, stuffed into the inside pocket, the folded gold-embossed invitation. She took it into his office and was about to put it in one of the drawers, when she hesitated and decided to find a better hiding place.

A corner of the office, much to Jack�s annoyance, had a stack of old toys and other items they intended on taking to the dump, unless she could sell them on eBay. Maggie picked up a broken plastic duck with a small trolley attached, which only had two wheels. The duck�s plastic head had a hole in it, so she rolled the invitation up and stuck it down inside. She placed the duck among other broken toys then went back to the desk to shut the drawer. One of Jack�s large brown envelopes, which he used to stash notes and memos to himself, was open. She eased it out of the drawer, tipping out everything onto the desk. Stapled together were several articles cut out of magazines like Tatler, Vogue and Elle, all featuring Detmar Steinburg at glamorous society events. There was also a Post-it note in Jack�s handwriting with the words �dealer� and �forgeries� on it.

Penny peeped into the room and Maggie physically jumped. �There�s more news on � was that a call from Jack?�

�Yes, he�s being held at Fulham police station. He said he won�t be home tonight but will call again when he can.�

�You mean he�s been arrested?�

�Just being questioned, Penny, nothing to worry about. Jack�s not worried.�

�Should I call Marius and ask him to come over?�

�No, you carry on watching the TV.�

�They never said his name on all the news and interviews.�

�Please, Penny, just record anything else you see.�

�Yes, dear.� Penny left. As Maggie looked through the clippings, she heard her mobile. For a moment, she couldn�t remember where she had left it. She was about to go and search for it, but the next moment the landline on Jack�s desk rang. She snatched it up, hoping it would be Jack. It was Laura.

�Maggie? I just tried you on your mobile. I�m really getting worried because of all the news. I�ve tried to find out what�s going on, and all I�ve found out is that Jack has been taken to Fulham station.�

�That�s all I know too, Laura. He rang and said he was being held there probably overnight... can you find out what it�s about?�

�It obviously has to do with what happened at the gallery. I couldn�t believe Jack was there. You know he was previously questioned here at our station about getting access to the ICU where they were holding the victim? They accused him then of withholding evidence, but it was dismissed, so I reckon it must be connected. Listen, Maggie, maybe check out anything Jack might have been investigating on the QT. You know what he�s like when he gets something that needles him. You need to understand, Maggie, this is really very serious, you have to get rid of anything incriminating, right now. Especially any reference to Adam Border, all right?�

�OK,� Maggie said. �Thank you. And please call again if you find out anything else.� She put the phone down, then ran down into the hall and grabbed her coat, car keys and handbag.

Maggie drove to the nearest tube station and got out by the row of public telephones, which were all the new models requiring a credit card. She returned to the car and drove around the local areas until she found one that would take coins. She took out her purse and selected some coins, her hand shaking because she wasn�t sure if she was doing the right thing or not. She had to use directory enquiries to get the numbers, writing them down on the back of her hand with a biro. She then placed the first call to the Daily Mail asking to be put through to the crime desk. Maggie made three further calls, always keeping the conversation brief.

�I recognised the man being called �the hero�. He�s Detective Sergeant Jack Warr of the Metropolitan Police.�

She did not give her name, hanging up each time as they asked for more details. Returning home, she went to Jack�s office and searched the desk drawers for any more notes relating to Detmar Steinburg, then stuffed everything into a bin bag. Then she went down to the kitchen and opened the drawer in the big old dresser she used for all the family paperwork like mortgage documents, school reports and various receipts. She gathered them all up and returned to his office, stuffing them in the envelope Jack had used for his research into Steinburg and putting it into a drawer.

Trying to think of a good place to hide the bin bag, Maggie sat with it on her knee. She heard Penny�s footsteps from the floor above and knew she should go and sit with her for a bit, even watch the late-night news. She put the bin bag on the floor and went into the corridor as Penny was coming down with Charlie�s plastic waste bucket full of soiled nappies ready to be transferred to eco-friendly plastic bags that would go into the large collection bin provided by the council.

�Everything all right, Penny?�

�Yes, dear, Charlie was a bit ratty with his teething, so I�ve been sitting with him. I didn�t want him to wake Hannah.�

�Let me take that out for you... we have a spare, don�t we?�

�Yes, we�ve got two; one I�ve never used.�

Maggie took the plastic bucket from her and said she would bring her a hot chocolate. If Charlie was sleeping, they could watch TV together.

�I�d like that, dear. I�ve been worried sick.�

Maggie watched her return to the nursery and then went to her bedroom. She picked up the black bin bag and went down to the kitchen. She put most of the poo-filled nappies into the eco bags, tying them tightly. Then she went outside to the bins and put them in. Next, she pushed the black bin liner down into the bucket, placing two stinking nappies on top. With the secure plastic lid back on, she took it back upstairs and put it into the bathroom under the washbasin. Finally, she opened Jack�s laptop and started trying out different passwords.

Kurt Neilson had been under constant surveillance since being placed on suicide watch. Despite taking his medication, strict precautions were still in place. His requests for a visit from his mother were denied, and he was only allowed to speak with his lawyer via telephone in a protected booth, closely monitored by officers and medical staff. He barely spoke at first but soon became animated as, unprompted, he started describing his elaborate plans to murder his lover.

Although she had not visited Neilson in prison, Ester Langton had organised his legal team, who had initially reported that they were confident Neilson could claim diminished responsibility at trial, arguing that he had been mentally unbalanced at the time of the murder. The only problem with this strategy was Neilson�s insistence on his guilt and tendency to describe the more horrific details of the murder with evident relish.

It was three thirty and Jack was heading for the station�s main reception with a spring in his step, but Collingwood put a hand on his arm. �Better to use the back entrance and leave through the station yard, Jack. The press are out front in force. No doubt they want to get a few quotes from the hero of the hour.�

�Bloody hell,� Jack said.

�Somehow they got wind of your name and rank and since then they�ve been laying siege to the place.�

Jack patted Collingwood�s arm. �I�ve got a lot to thank you for, Mike.� He shook his head. �I can�t believe Morrison searched my house.�

�I�d say it�s your wife you need to thank, Jack � big time. Come on, I�ve got a car waiting.� As the patrol car swept out, Jack looked back and saw the scrum of reporters and photographers milling around outside. But his relief at having dodged them was shortlived. As the patrol car parked up outside his house, a journalist popped up, seemingly out of nowhere, with a photographer close behind.

�Detective Jack Warr, I�m from the Daily Mail, and I have a few questions...� Jack resisted the temptation to push the photographer out of his way. Instead, he kept his head down and sidestepped him as he hurried to the front door. He fumbled to get his keys out as the photographer started snapping away, finally managing to open the door and slam it shut behind him. He stood in the hall for a few moments, taking deep breaths.

�Maggie?� he called out, walking into the kitchen. It was a mess. All the drawers had been emptied and the contents left scattered on the floor, along with grocery lists and takeaway leaflets. The sink was full of dirty pans and crockery, and there was a pile of dirty washing beside the washing machine.

Jack hurried up the stairs. �Maggie! Mum!� Their bed had been left unmade, and going into the nursery, he found a pile of Charlie�s dirty clothes beside his cot, while his changing table was littered with empty bottles of milk and dirty food bowls. He could feel his heart pounding as he went into Hannah�s bedroom and saw the same disarray. Even Penny�s room looked as if it had been ransacked, with an unmade bed, drawers open and clothes strewn across the bed as if she�d left in a hurry. The whole house was like the Marie Celeste.

Going back down to the kitchen, he called the hospital, pacing anxiously while he was put on hold. �I�ve just come out of surgery. I�ve only got a minute,� she said curtly.

�I�m home, Maggie, everything�s fine...�

�We have a lot to sort out, Jack,� she said, as if she hadn�t heard him. �I�ll be home around seven. Penny�s taken Hannah to a dance class, and Charlie�s with a baby minder at the school. Marius is with them. I have to go... we�ll talk later.�

Jack stood holding the receiver. Never in the entire time he had been with Maggie had he heard that cold, dismissive tone in her voice. He stood there, unsure how to deal with it, before replacing the receiver and running up the stairs to his office. He was expecting the worst, but he was still shocked by the state of it. It looked as if the contents of all his drawers and what had been on his desk had been tipped onto the floor, along with the phone, but what made him really furious was the way the old children�s toys had clearly been kicked around. He picked up one of Hannah�s old broken dolls, now with its arms ripped off, and flushed with anger.

He took a moment to calm himself, then got down on all fours and searched through the debris for the plastic cart. He turned it over and sighed with relief when he saw the duct tape was still in place. Getting to his feet, he took another deep breath and returned to the kitchen.

After making himself a cup of tea, he went back upstairs and took a shower, washed his hair, shaved and put on a clean T-shirt and jeans. It was now after six, and he was expecting Penny and the children to be home before Maggie. Suddenly he heard Hannah singing at the top of her voice. He hurried down the stairs; Hannah was twirling round and round, wearing a pink leotard, white tights and ballet shoes, while Penny was taking Charlie out of his pram. When she saw him, she ran into his arms with an excited yelp.

�I�ve been at ballet class, Daddy!�

Penny gave Jack a disapproving look. �She wouldn�t get changed,� she said.

�You were on TV... I saw you on TV!� Hannah shrieked.

�I was going to order a takeaway,� Jack said, giving Hannah a hug.

�We�ve already eaten, and this little boy needs changing so I�ll take him straight upstairs,� Penny said coldly.

�Mum, everything�s all right. I�m home, and it�s over.�

�You�ve got a lot of explaining to do... we�ve had a terrible time here,� Penny said, shaking her head.

�I can make some hot chocolate for everyone,� Jack suggested.

�We had some at McDonald�s. Mustn�t have too much sugar when they have to go to bed.�

It was obvious Penny wasn�t going to talk to him, so he went up to his office to see what Maggie had done with all his research on Detmar Steinburg. He heard the front door closing and ran downstairs. Maggie was taking off her coat in the hall. Ignoring him, she went straight into the kitchen, putting a pizza box down on the table.

�Mags...� He went to embrace her, but she pushed him away.

�Go up and ask Penny to show you all the TV footage and newspaper articles, then come down and we�ll have pizza.� Jack did as he was told.

Fifteen minutes later, he came back down to find Maggie had opened a bottle of wine. �OK, I�ve seen enough,� he said.

�Sit down,� Maggie told him. �I�ll put the pizza in the oven, and you can pour me a glass of wine.� Jack poured two glasses of wine. Maggie took two warmed plates out of the oven and searched a drawer for the pizza cutter.

�So, what did they arrest you for?�

�Obstructing an investigation and withholding evidence.�

�Those are criminal offences, right?�

Jack shrugged. �Sure, but that prick DCI Morrison already tried and failed to pin them on me. I don�t know why, but he�s got it in for me.�

�So, it was not until the footage from the gallery was released that they suspected you of withholding evidence for the second time.�

�Yeah, someone at the gallery was bound to have got me on their mobile.�

�So, after you had done your hero bit, you just walked out?�

Jack shrugged and took a sip of wine. �Yeah, by then Mike Collingwood was in control of the situation. I just wanted to get home.�

�So it was very fortunate he was there in good time,� Maggie said.

�Well, it was kind of down to me. I told him to get as many officers as possible to the gallery asap because I knew something was going down.�

�You contacted him?�

�I made an anonymous call to the station and got through to Mike. I didn�t want that shit Morrison getting the kudos.�

Maggie took out the pizza and cut it into slices.

�This looks great,� Jack said, rubbing his hands. �All I�ve had is a few biscuits in the last twenty-four hours.�

�At what point did you know, as you put it, something was going down?�

Jack took a bite of pizza and chewed for a moment before he answered. �I thought I was right about the victim being Detmar Steinburg, but without your brainwave about that guy Joe Orton, I�d never have pieced the whole thing together. As soon as I saw Kurt running around like a nutcase, I knew he�d done it.�

Jack finished his first slice; Maggie just nibbled on one of hers and then sipped her wine. �So, you suspected that Morrison�s unidentified victim was Detmar Steinburg, and you went to the gallery to prove you were right.�

�Yes.�

�You had no other reason than that?�

Jack put down his second slice of pizza. �Where are you going with this?�

�You know exactly where I�m going.�

�No, I don�t.�

�Yes, you do.�

�OK, Mrs Detective, tell me. You think I had some ulterior motive?�

�I know you did. And you were prepared to risk your career and your family for it.�

Jack tensed. �What the hell are you talking about?�

�Adam Border. I think you withheld evidence until you could find out, one: if the victim was Adam Border, and two: if he wasn�t, had he committed the murder.�

Jack was speechless. Suddenly he felt like he was back in the interview room, only this time he was being grilled by his wife. Maggie got up and picked up a suitcase on the floor by the door. She carried it over and banged it down onto the table. Opening it, she took out Jack�s laptop.

�I managed to get this out of the house, right under their noses. I put it in Charlie�s pram beneath the covers. Penny took him and Hannah out of the house because they were scared out of their minds with the police banging around and tipping things out of drawers.�

Next, Maggie took out of the black bin liner, tipping the contents onto the table. �All your notes and press cuttings about Detmar Steinburg.� Jack looked on in shocked silence. Maggie picked up her wine glass and took a long gulp. �I cleared out your desk drawers and put all this into a nappy bin, leaving two of Charlie�s dirty ones on top. Then I called the papers and told them you were the unnamed man at the gallery.�

�Did you give your name?�

�No! Of course not. Then I retrieved the invitation from your evening suit jacket pocket and hid it, like you asked me.�

�Did they find it?�

�I stuffed it in the plastic wheelie duck... it�s still there.� Jack was about to speak when she snapped. �I haven�t finished. I removed all my receipts, mortgage documents and bank statements from the kitchen drawers and put them in your office. When they searched in there, they removed the lot.�

Maggie grabbed everything from the table to shove back into the case, then slammed it shut and carried it back to the doorway.

�If I hadn�t managed to hide everything, especially your laptop, they could have found a lot of incriminating evidence, probably enough to charge you. They took my laptop, in case you�d used it, but I doubt there was anything incriminating. I am taking legal advice as it is predominantly used for my work, so it is an invasion of medical records privacy.�

�I don�t know what to say. I might not be here now without what you did.�

�You need to think about everything, Jack. I refuse to have you jeopardise my life, my career, our family and your own career. Sleep in the loft tonight because no matter how much I love you and want to protect you, I can never go through this again.�

She walked out, leaving him sitting at the table with the rest of the now cold pizza.

Jack lay on the small single bed they�d bought from Portobello market feeling utterly wretched. He went over the entire discussion he�d had with Maggie. He�d always known she was far more intelligent than he was, and tonight, she had once again given proof of her many talents. Her quick thinking and determination to protect him made him feel like weeping. He immediately considered giving in his notice and leaving the Met, but then what other options would he have?

He was trying to avoid facing the truth of her accusation. He had risked so much, and it wasn�t the first time. He closed his eyes, hoping to sleep, but his brain kept spinning, trying to figure out his next move. He knew if he went back to the station, the boredom would only get worse and he�d never get the respect he felt he deserved. Reflecting on his emotional breakdown and how Maggie had protected him, he said to himself, �I have to make some changes in my life.�

One thing was for sure, he didn�t want to change his family. Maggie and the children were the best part of his life. Losing them would destroy him and he�d only have himself to blame. He began to go over everything that had happened over the last few weeks, eventually falling into a deep sleep as exhaustion overtook him.

Maggie had an early start at the hospital. Penny was preparing for the walk to school with the children when she saw Maggie was getting ready to leave. �Is everything all right, dear?� she asked tentatively.

�No, Mum, it isn�t, but I don�t want to talk about it now.�

Penny quickly changed the subject. �Marius was asking about knocking down the walls.�

�Fine, let him come in and smash them down. It might wake the hero.�

�Oh, I wanted to tell you that his computer, his mobile phone and your laptop were delivered late last night. They�re in Jack�s office. It was so late I didn�t want to disturb you,� Penny said.

Maggie shrugged, collecting her medical bag and briefcase before walking out of the kitchen, fighting back the tears. Penny sighed deeply, then got on with getting Hannah ready and Charlie settled in his pram.

Jack heard the movements downstairs and waited for Penny and the kids to leave the house. He had a shower and put on his best suit. In his office, he found the invitation hidden inside the plastic duck. He charged his mobile and then made a to-do list before making some calls. He got through to DCI Clarke, briefly explained that he wanted a transfer, and ended the call before Clarke could ask any questions. He then called DCI Broadbent at Scotland Yard.

�Good morning, Sir. I wanted to let you know that although my mobile phone and laptop have been returned, along with my wife�s laptop, she is taking legal advice for misappropriating her confidential medical reports.�

Broadbent was taken aback by Jack�s aggressive tone. �I do hope we can avoid getting into any kind of legal situation, DS Warr.�

Jack continued. �As you know, the press is still very eager to interview me. I have declined to speak with them up to this point, but before I make a final decision, I would like to know the Yard�s intentions regarding my presence at the art gallery.�

�I believe it is under discussion this morning.�

�That�s good. I hope it will be satisfactory. I really don�t want to broadcast the fact that I was in a cell for over sixteen hours and subsequently released with no charges.�

�As I said, we are discussing the entire situation at eleven o�clock this morning.� Broadbent was trying his best to sound reassuring.

�Good. I have also resigned this morning and would like to suggest an alternative position. Perhaps this would be a good time to discuss��

�I�m sorry, are you saying you have resigned?�

�As a homicide detective, not from the police service. I was hoping there might be another more suitable position within the Met.�

Broadbent was struggling to assimilate everything Jack was saying. All he could do was to try and pacify him. �I believe DCI Morrison will not be present at the meeting this morning.�

�He shouldn�t be. He�s an incompetent officer with a personal grudge against me. If you examine my records and the many murder cases I have headed up, you�ll realise it was a deplorable act to accuse me of misconduct. His outrageous treatment of me as a highly respected officer should be part of your discussion this morning. And perhaps his extra-marital affairs should also be mentioned while you�re at it. My home was invaded and you found no incriminating evidence against me. To be treated like a common criminal, arrested and put in a cell for what have been described as heroic actions is beyond belief. And let�s not forget that my actions led to the arrest of a very dangerous killer.�

�Thank you for calling, Jack, I will endeavour to convey what you�ve said to the commissioner this morning.�

�Thank you, Sir, but I would appreciate it if I could be present.�

�I doubt that will be possible...�

�I�ll be at Scotland Yard this morning for you to update me,� Jack said, ending the call before Broadbent could argue further.

Jack pushed back his chair and stood up. He was beginning to feel better about things. For the first time in his career, he had spoken up for himself, and it felt good. He hoped he could keep it up in front of the commissioner and the rest of the brass later. In the kitchen he saw that Penny had left the ironing board up beside a basket of laundry. He took the rolled-up invitation out of his pocket and switched on the iron. He waited only until the iron was warm enough, then ironed out the creases and slipped it back into his pocket.

Jack hailed a taxi to take him home. He stopped at the local super-market and brought a bottle of champagne, then stopped the driver again as they passed a flower stall on Fulham Road; he told the stall-holder he wanted a bucket-full. Arriving home with his arms full of roses and lilies, he didn�t need his keys as the front door was wide open. Outside was a skip full of debris. Inside, the hall now had a very large hole in the wall, while protective sheets had been laid along the carpet leading to the kitchen where there was another big hole. Marius was sweeping brick dust into the garden via the open doors.

�Where is everyone?� Jack asked, taking the flowers to the sink.

�Your mum has got a picnic going up in the nursery. I�m finishing up for the day. I�ll be back first thing tomorrow to start plastering. The RSJ was a right bugger to fit, but we did it, and I�ll be getting a carpenter in to make a nice archway. I�m using the dining room door to make two safety gates for Charlie.�

�All looking good to me,� Jack said, already covered in white brick dust.

Marius slipped him a dusty scrap of paper with the estimate, then tapped his nose and winked that it was just between them, cash for himself and his lads. By the time Marius had cleaned up as much as he could and left in his van, Jack had found various vases and jugs to carry the flowers to the bedroom. He joined Penny and the children in the nursery, watched some TV with them, and had a banana sandwich before returning to the kitchen. Fetching the bottle of champagne from the fridge, he took two glasses from the cabinet and went up to the bedroom.

It was after seven when Maggie arrived home. She went straight to the kitchen and stood looking at the massive hole in the wall for a few moments before going up to the nursery. Penny was reading to Hannah, while Charlie crawled around on the floor.

�Have you heard anything from Jack?� she asked.

�He was with us earlier,� Penny said. �We had tea up here because of all the dust. Will you order something for your dinner?�

�Yes. I think Marius is doing a good job, by the way.�

�He and his lads have worked their socks off, but it was a real bugger getting that RSJ into place.�

Maggie nodded. �I think I�ll take a shower, then say goodnight to Hannah and Charlie.�

Maggie was stunned when she walked into the bedroom to see flowers wherever she looked. She was even more stunned when Jack, in his dressing gown, held up the bottle of champagne, grinning like a Cheshire cat. She sighed, kicking off her shoes.

�This had better be good, Jack. It smells like a florist�s shop in here.�

�I�ll open this after I tell you about my day at Scotland Yard.�

She unbuttoned her blouse, refusing to play along, as he put the unopened bottle on the bedside table. He sat on the bed, watching her undress, and told her about the offer of a role in an elite new murder squad, dealing only with first-degree murder cases.

�I respectfully turned them down.�

�What? Did you hand in your resignation? Is that what this is all about?�

�No. Let me finish. Damn, seeing you getting naked makes it difficult to concentrate.�

�Oh, for God�s sake, you are beginning to piss me off.� She went into the bathroom and he followed, watching her cleaning her makeup off and then washing her face. He leaned against the open door as she cleaned her teeth.

�I asked to be given a team of officers to set up a new division in the fraud squad concentrating on art fraud. After a lot of huffing and puffing, they agreed to it. I�ll be working out of an office in Scotland Yard. It�ll take a few weeks to set up, with all the specialist equipment, but I�ll have three fraud officers already working there as my team.�

Maggie spat out the toothpaste and rinsed her mouth. �Is this for real, Jack? Or is it fantasy? Because to me, it doesn�t make any sense.�

She walked past him and took off her bra and pants to put on her nightdress. He was disappointed by her reaction. She didn�t seem to understand how serious he was. He switched off the bathroom light, following her into the bedroom.

�What doesn�t make any sense to you, Maggie?�

�Moving into a completely different area of the Met after your past record tracking down killers and bringing them to justice.�

�I thought you would approve,� he said quietly.

They were silent for a while. Then she watched him pick up the bottle of champagne. �Don�t open that now, Jack.�

�You might not want to celebrate, but I do. My dad, Charlie, encouraged me to join the local force when I was eighteen. I�d never even thought of it. I just went ahead to make him proud of me. When we met and you had the offer of the position here in London, I just followed and got transferred to the Met. I never had any ambition, and truthfully, if it hadn�t been for my old boss, I would more than likely have quit, but Ridley became a sort of substitute for my dad, with me wanting to make him proud, and so I carried on and on and on, bored out of my skull most of the time, having to deal with the incident room arseholes. The further I moved up, taking on one murder investigation after another, the more I felt trapped, as if I was hiding who I really was.�

Maggie watched him in the mirror. Speaking quietly, his usual boyish expression was gone. His dark eyes now appeared hooded, and there were shadows under his chiselled cheekbones. She felt her heartbeat quicken, afraid of what he was going to say next or how to comfort him.

�The first time I felt it was when I had to knock on the parents� door to tell them their sixteen-year-old daughter had been murdered. Asking them to sit down before telling them why I was there. Then the anguish in their eyes, and having to be with them when they identified her, her face made up to hide the lacerations. I have had to deal with that torment repeatedly. Then the obsession with tracking down the killers, hoping to bring some justice but knowing there isn�t any. I cannot go back to all that because I can�t deal with it anymore.�

Maggie wanted to reach out to him, but the fact that he had hidden so much from her was painful to accept.

He was staring at the floor, then he looked up and smiled. �You know you�re always asking me about Adam Border. Why I protect him. I�ll tell you why. Being with him for even a short while gave me a strange sense of hope. He taught me, without even knowing that I was depressed, that there was another option. I want, like him, to do something I�m passionate about.� He smiled. �And then I want to prove I can outwit him.�

Maggie got up and wrapped her arms around him. Some of it still didn�t make sense to her, but she didn�t care. They opened the bottle of champagne, and she held up her glass before he could say anything else.

�To you, Jack, and to your new position, because all I want is for you to�� Maggie never finished, as there was a loud boom and sound of falling debris from right beneath their bedroom, making it feel for one terrifying moment as if the floor was about to fall in underneath them. They ran into the corridor shouting for Penny, and heard Hannah screaming as Penny came down holding the baby. As they reached the ground floor, loose bricks littered the floor by the stairs and inside the kitchen the hole was now massive. One end of the RSJ had broken loose and fallen with a mound of bricks.

Penny looked fearfully at them both as if it was somehow her fault. They were gaping in shock with brick dust in their hair, when Hannah picked up a brick and said, �Nana said it was a bugger to put up.�

Jack and Maggie glanced at each other and started laughing.

I would like to thank Nigel Stoneman and Tory Macdonald, the team I work with at La Plante Global.

The forensic scientists and members of the Met Police who help with my research. I could not write without their valuable input.

Cass Sutherland for his valuable advice on police procedures and forensics.

The entire team at my publisher, Bonnier Books UK, who work together to have my books edited, marketed, publicised and sold.

A special thank you to Ben Willis and Bill Massey for their great editorial advice and guidance.

Allen and Unwin in Australia and Jonathan Ball in South Africa, thank you for doing such fantastic work.

All the reviewers, journalists, bloggers and broadcasters who interview me, write reviews and promote my books. Thank you for your time and work.

My readers, without you I would not be able to do a job I love, sincerest thanks.