‘I need to go there, Gerry. I need to get a feel for it and I need to let this Bancho know what he’s up against. And, before you ask, yes, I’m sure. I’m booked on the three thirty flight from Stansted to Edinburgh.’ Sam Jones paused before asking what she really wanted to know. ‘Gerry? Why do you think he’s started again, after all this time?’

The silence between them was heavy. DI Sam Jones wondered if the psychiatrist was crying. He wondered whether she was.

‘The question isn’t why he has started after all this time, Sam, it’s why has he waited for so long? We all knew he wanted to do it again, we knew that he had his wish list. Do these killings fit in with anything he…wanted?’ Dr Gerry Cornwell rubbed his temples. The headache, which had been throbbing behind his eyes since the moment he woke up, was now turning into a full-blown migraine.

‘I’m not sure of that one yet,’ said Sam. ‘I really do need to be there. I’ve been waiting for this for years and dreading it for just as long–but I have to find out whether they’ll be willing to take my advice on it and whether they’ll even consider him as a suspect.’ Cornwell could hear her voice tighten. She had a battle ahead.

‘When did you get the information from HOLMES 2?’ he asked.

‘I got an email at four fifty-five. I was just leaving for the day.’

‘You know about the judge?’ he asked.

‘I was in the cafeteria; the lunchtime news was on and I saw Lord Hunter.’

‘Sam,’ Gerry Cornwell said, ‘it’s a bit of a coincidence. Too much of one. Have you called Hunter?’

‘No. I was kind of hoping you would.’

‘Christ, the timing of it…it couldn’t be worse.’

‘You’re worried about the Lord Chancellor?’ she asked.

‘Naturally,’ he said.

‘What about the victims and their families?’ DI Sam Jones asked, not even attempting to disguise the disgust in her voice.

‘Jesus, there’s only so much guilt a man can take, Sam. Of course I care about the families, but Edward is a friend. Is there any chance we can keep him out of it?’ he asked.

‘If it’s at all possible, I will.’ Her answer was cold and clinical, but he still believed that she would keep to her word.

Dr Gerry Cornwell put two fingers on his neck and took his pulse. It was so high it was dangerous; his breathing was in his upper chest and shallow, a fine film of sweat covered his whole body. The telephone felt heavy in his hand. ‘Sam, when you find him…what do you plan to do to him?’ he asked anxiously.

There was no reply. The only sound was his hammering heart and panting, inadequate breath. ‘Sam? I asked you a question.’