Agnes Sampson got up and poured herself a fresh cup of tea. ‘So Kevin Milne could be appearing in Edinburgh Sheriff Court any day now? It will be interesting to see what kind of monster the taxpayer’s money has created.’

The dean sat up to his full height, and cleared his throat. ‘No one outside these four walls must know that he is Kevin Milne–if that is who he proves to be. There is the media order that bans any mention of his former identity.’

Bancho rankled at the words. His priority was not Kevin Milne at this point: it was Sam Jones. Her safety was paramount, even though he feared, if her theory was correct, she could already be beyond help. ‘DI Bancho?’ the dean went on. ‘I take it you will speak direct to the Lord Chancellor at this stage? Find out what she said in her last conversation with him?’ There was a threat, an edge to his voice. If they didn’t get the information he wanted from the Lord Chancellor, then he would bloody well go down and feel Lord Hunter’s collar himself, Lord Chancellor or not.

‘I assure you, I will make every effort to contact him immediately’

Bancho’s phone vibrated with a text from PC Sheehy. Suspect 3 Crowley Lane Morningside meet there asap

‘I have to go,’ he told the assembled group. ‘We have a lead on the man in the photographs–well, his car at least.’ He wasn’t quite sure how to leave–this bunch would have the ears and the attention of his superiors, he knew that. ‘I’m sure that you’ll all get the information you need when you need it,’ was all he could think of to say as he left.

As he made his way out of Parliament House, Bancho was already returning Sheehy’s call. ‘What do we know about the car owner?’ he demanded as soon as she picked up.

‘Are you anywhere near a seat? You’re going to need it,’ said Sheehy.

‘Go on,’ urged Bancho. How much more complicated could this get? He was about to find out, as Sheehy gave him the name.

‘Graham Marshall?’ Bancho breathed out slowly. ‘Do you mean the Dr Graham Marshall? Plastic surgeon to the rich and famous and generally needy? It’s him? Jesus Christ. My life is about to get even fucking worse…’

It wasn’t possible. Could Sam have been wrong? Otherwise, in less than twenty-four hours they might have pulled off what various Internet groups, vigilantes and ‘friends’ of the Cooks had been unable to do in two decades–found Kevin Milne.

Chapter Forty-Two

Crowley Lane in Morningside was a prestigious address, and most of the houses were substantial sandstone villas. Number three was different. The owner had bought a house, demolished the period property, and erected in its place an edifice of modern architecture that was all angles and glass.