He’d extracted himself from the conversation when it became obvious that she was too discreet to discuss her guests’ particulars, certainly with a stranger. It had taken him over an hour to work his way around all the attendees, surreptitiously assessing each one. Never being able to ask the question he wanted to ask. The strategy was hazardous, of course, and left him exposed, but so far it had proved effective, so it was worth the risk. Unfortunately, the information he required was not the type of thing people volunteered casually, even at a supposedly benign meeting like this one.

It became a case of reading underlying signals, determining others’ insecurities through body language and nuance. Even then, only if they alluded to the relevant criteria would he push, deepen the conversation, or dare to suggest that they continue in private.

But in recent months, that combination had proven elusive. He had attended numerous gatherings and contacted more of his target group in other ways, hoping to gain their confidence. Except then came the even thornier task of convincing them to divulge what was likely to be one of their deepest, darkest secrets.

The secret.

And tonight, no one had.

Which reduced his attendance at this gathering to pointless exposure. The most important element at that stage became timing – how and when to extract himself, without drawing unwanted attention. He had begun working his way towards the exit, listening more than he spoke, eventually making it to the door.

Almost.

‘Only …’ the host nodded over her shoulder, back into the main room, ‘there was someone I wanted you to meet.’

He followed the line of her gesture, searching the crowd filling her lounge, picking out an attendee he hadn’t previously noticed. A late arrival, perhaps?

It didn’t matter.

The young man stood among three other guests, apparently engaged in the conversation, but still subtly detached from the group. His clothes were fashionable, his hair flawlessly styled. He looked healthy.

Attractive.

But those elements weren’t the main reason he nodded, indicating to his host that he was happy to stay, as she smiled again and turned away. He followed her out of the hallway and began threading his way after her, making transitory eye contact with anyone who caught his gaze, but his main focus remained firmly on the young man.

The kid glanced up, clearly having detected the fact that he was being approached. Immediately he looked away, diffident, unsure of himself. And there it was: the faint flicker of self-consciousness.

The single element that all his victims had shared.

9

‘Oh, come on.’ Hawkins jabbed at the screen.

She switched fingers and tried again; still no joy. The supposedly modern interface of the new-fangled hot drinks dispenser in Becke House was now at serious risk of damage.