Caroline ran her hand instinctively across her b.u.mp. 'How can you tell? A couple of months to go.'

'And how's your gorgeous husband?'

'My gorgeous husband is being a pain in the b.u.t.t right now.'

'Why?'

'He wants this little one to be born back in his own country.'

'Russia?'

'Yup. Moscow, just where I want to be in the middle of winter.'

'Will you go?'

Caroline smiled, the brilliance of it lighting the room. 'I don't mind really. Quite looking forward to it. Never let him know though. You have to keep your man on his toes, don't you?'

Kate looked away. 'I guess.'

'I'm sorry, Kate.'

Kate put her hand on her arm. 'That's okay. Let's just get on with this.'

Caroline nodded sympathetically. 'We should really do this back at the station.'

'White City?'

'Yes.'

'You can't be serious?'

'Any evidence I collect here won't be admissible in court, you do know that?'

'I know, Caroline. But I can't go there. Not with this.'

'You wouldn't be the first.'

'I just want to know what happened. After that . . .' Kate shrugged. She had absolutely no idea what she would do if her fears were confirmed.

Dr Akunin opened up her medical bag, took out some plastic bags and a pair of latex gloves. She pulled the gloves on, snapping the latex tight to her fingers. 'You'd better get undressed then.'

PC Bob Wilkinson scowled as he looked down at the body that lay barely hidden in the undergrowth. He sighed, unclipped his police radio from its holster and he shared a look with his colleague, a young, black constable called Danny Vine. The boy was ashen, he looked down at what lay on the ground and then dashed off to the bushes to be violently sick.

'Foxtrot Alpha from thirty-two.'

His police radio crackled. 'Go ahead, Bob.'

Wilkinson looked over at his colleague who had stood up and was now wiping the blue serge of his uniformed arm across his mouth. He felt sorry for him, you never got used to it, though, even after nearly thirty years. 'We have an IC1 female. Somewhere in her twenties.' He paused. 'It's not an accidental death.'

Kate stood in the centre of the white cotton sheet that Caroline had spread on the floor. The doctor was on her knees in front of Kate with a comb in her hand. Kate looked away as she worked, carefully placing the combed hairs in a small, clear plastic bag.

'When was the last time you had consensual s.e.x, Kate?'

Her memory flashed back to around three weeks ago. She had no trouble recalling that.

Jack Delaney.

'Tell me, Jack. Talk to me.' Low, breathless, husky.

'Dig your nails in. I want to taste blood.'

'Pleasure and pain, Detective Inspector. Very Catholic.'

Delaney laughed, looking into her eyes, at the mischief sparking within them. 'I want to remember the moment.'

And Kate dug her nails into his b.u.t.tocks, pulling him deeper into her. 'Oh, you'll remember. I'll make sure of that.'

She remembered the savagery of their lovemaking. Remembered him on top of her, penetrating her almost painfully, his powerful arms clutching her tight to his muscular body like a life raft as he rode the waves of their pa.s.sion. She remembered his soft eyes wet with emotion as he shuddered to a climax, taking her with him. She remembered the absolute nakedness of his emotions as he held on too long afterwards, kissing her salty shoulder and whispering her name like a prayer.

And she remembered the love she felt for him.

She looked over at the curtained window and felt tears running down her cheeks again.

Caroline Akunin looked up at her. Misunderstanding her tears. 'I'm sorry. I have to ask.'

'That's okay, Caroline. It was three weeks ago.'

Caroline nodded. 'I am going to take some swabs, is that okay?'

Kate nodded. Her body was already feeling like it was something apart from her once more. Distancing herself from her feelings, something she had learned at a young age. Something she had lived with for years until Delaney had made her feel connected with her body again. Now she felt violated and ashamed and wretched. But most of all, she felt angry.

A buzzing sound then a sharp ring. Kate looked across at her mobile phone that was vibrating on Jane Harrington's desk. 'You better pa.s.s that to me, Caroline. I told the office to call me only if it was really urgent.'

Delaney looked at the bloodshot eyes of Martin Quigley. Eyes that darted nervously back and forth. Eyes that squirmed under his scrutiny with pain and with fear. His right arm was suspended in a sling and covered with plaster. His fingers, that were visible, flexed nervously. His lower jaw was covered with wire and metal and held immobile. He grunted through the metal but quite clearly couldn't speak. He was a large man, somewhere in his forties. His nose had been broken many times in the past, and the home-made tattoos on his neck would quickly dispel any lingering suspicions that this man was employed in white-collar work.

Delaney didn't know the man, but he knew the type. Bruisers who communicated with their knuckles. Strong-arm men for cleverer criminals. A foot soldier, cannon fodder, a gorilla just like Kevin Norrell. He moved around the side of the bed, closer to him. 'You attacked Kevin Norrell, and I want to know why.' The man grunted again, an animal in pain. Delaney couldn't make out what he was saying.

Sally Cartwright took out a pad and a pen and held it out to Quigley's good hand. He flicked his broken-veined eyeb.a.l.l.s to the left, where she stood, then back at Delaney and grunted again, but made no move to take the pen or notebook.

Delaney smiled at him. 'You taking what our American cousins would call the fifth, Quigley?'

Quigley glared at him with defiance in his eyes and didn't move.

Delaney glanced over at Sally. 'Give him the pen, Sally.'

Sally put the pen in his left hand but he made no move to hold it. Delaney reached over, put his own hand over Quigley's broken one and pulled it. Quigley grunted, loudly, his face red with pain and tears starting in his eyes. Delaney released his grip. 'He'll take the pen now.'

This time Quigley held the pen. Sally put her notebook under it so that he could write.

'Why'd you attack him, Quigley?'

Quigley wrote one word. The scrawl was nearly undecipherable but Sally could just make it out. 'He's written "Nonce", sir.'

Delaney looked at Quigley. 'You saying you attacked Norrell because he was a paedophile?'

Quigley grunted an affirmative.

'Who put you up to it?'

Quigley grunted again and wrote some more. Sally read it out again. 'He says no one.'

'Just doing your civic duty, were you?'

Quigley grunted again, trying to keep his head as still as possible. Sally looked over at her boss. 'Do you believe him?'

'I don't know.' Delaney smiled at her then tugged on Quigley's hand again. Quigley's breath hissed through the metal mask of his teeth and he gurgled in pain. Delaney let go of his hand. 'You telling me the truth, Martin?'

Quigley's eyes pleaded with Delaney, his gurgling incoherent but comprehensible as Delaney reached towards his plastered arm once more.

Quigley pleaded with his eyes as Delaney's mobile phone rang. He grabbed it out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open.

'Delaney.'

'Jack, it's Diane.'

'I'm at the South Hampstead, interviewing someone.'

'It'll have to wait. I heard about Norrell and I'm sorry, but something's come up.'

'What?'

'We've got a dead body in the woods, South Hampstead Common. A young female.'

'We know who she is?'

'Not a d.a.m.n thing. Uniform are securing the site, but given the weather we want it processed as soon as possible. Paddington Green should be handling it but they've got some big anti-terrorist initiative tying up their manpower.'

'Lucky us.'

Delaney looked across at the rain-speckled window and through it at the grey clouds overhead. 'Give me the details.' Delaney listened for a moment or two then closed his phone. He put his mobile back in his pocket and gestured to Sally. 'We're out of here.'

The sigh of relief from Quigley was audible. Delaney turned back to him. 'I'll talk to you later. Meanwhile, you better pray Norrell makes it. Because if he doesn't I'm going to come back here and finish the job he started. And I'm a professional.'

Quigley glared at his back as they left his field of vision then closed his eyes nervously, snaked a tongue around his dry lips and swallowed with evident pain.

Kate Walker flicked the end of her long, multi-coloured scarf over one shoulder and walked quickly across the quadrangle and around the corner, pa.s.sing the main entrance to the South Hampstead Hospital as she started for the car park. Her head was down and although the rain, for the moment at least, had stopped, the north-east wind still had a chill edge to it. She fumbled in her pocket for her keys when a voice called out to her.

'Kate.'

She looked round, her heart thudding in her chest, to see Paul Archer.

He smiled at her, his voice friendly. 'Kate, what are you doing here? Were you looking for me?'

Kate couldn't speak, she couldn't breathe, she leaned back against her car, fighting to control the panic.

Archer smiled at her. 'Is everything all right?'

She found her voice. 'Get away from me.'

Archer looked puzzled. 'What are you talking about?'

'I know what you did. So just stay away from me.'

'I've got no idea what you're talking about. I haven't done anything.'

'Last night . . .'

'Last night was your idea. You invited me back to your place, remember.'

Kate shook her head angrily. 'You're not going to get away with this.'

'Get away with what? I didn't do anything.'

'You're lying.'

'Nothing happened, Kate. We both got drunk, you suggested I stay over. We slept together, but nothing happened, if that's what you're worried about.'

Kate desperately wanted to believe him, but knew that something was wrong, something was definitely wrong. She knew her own body, didn't she? 'Then why can't I remember?'

Archer smiled at her, genuinely amused. 'You were absolutely paralytic, Kate. It's not unusual.'

Kate stepped closer to him, she wanted to knock the arrogant smirk off his c.o.c.ky face. She wanted to hurt him, really hurt him. 'You're not going to get away with it, you sick pervert!' Archer grabbed both of her arms and she struggled furiously but his grip was like a vice. She looked up at him with livid eyes, her face contorted in fury. 'Let me go now, or I swear you will regret it!'

He pushed her away, the thin veneer of urbanity stripped from his face now as he sneered, 'What makes you think I'd want something like you?'

Kate slapped him hard across his face and went to slap him again but he caught her hand. 'Let go of my hand!' she yelled at him, red-faced with fury.

'You heard the lady.'

Archer released his grip on her and turned round to see a man looking at him impa.s.sively, scant inches away, a young woman standing behind him. The man was easily Archer's height, but had a few years on him and Archer was in far better physical shape. He poked the stranger in the chest. 'Back off, sunshine, and take your little friend with you. This is none of your business.'

Delaney punched him in the face. A hard straight punch to the bridge of his nose. So fast Archer didn't even see it coming. He gasped out in pain and dropped to his knees, completely taken aback. 'You've broken my f.u.c.king nose.' Blood was spilling from his nose on to his hands.

Delaney turned back round to speak to Kate but she was already striding towards her car, her scarf of many colours flapping behind her long, curly hair like a s.e.xy Doctor Who. Roy, from the burger van, would have approved, Delaney reckoned. He walked up to her as Kate got in her car, slammed the door shut and kicked over the engine.

'Kate!'

But she was gone, her wheels spinning, throwing up gravel like tiny shrapnel as she accelerated to the exit.