Plus, there was still the possibility that they were dealing with more than one perpetrator. Naturally, every partnership had its dominant force, and subordinates were always the weakest link, but to have a chance of breaking such an alliance, first you had to know who you were up against.

And right now, they were a long way from knowing that.

Hawkins glanced out through the slatted windows of her office into the main operations room, noting a collection of empty desks. In one way, the lack of activity was a good thing, indicating that all her people were out, chipping away at the investigation.

But it also meant no news.

She sighed, unable to justify further postponing the phone call it was her duty to make, and selected the chief superintendent’s number on her mobile. Vaughn answered within two rings. Their conversation lasted eight minutes, at the end of which Hawkins was forced to admit that no significant progress had been made.

She hung up, picturing the DCS at Westminster, where he was supposed to be reassuring the Home Secretary that the Met’s finest were successfully averting various potential disasters. Mercifully their current dilemma hadn’t yet made the agenda.

But it wouldn’t be long.

According to the rolling news channel playing silently in the corner of Hawkins’ laptop screen, the press still hadn’t picked up on the three bodies discovered in Brixton two days ago. But all the kids who’d found the dead men had families, any of whom might decide that a backhander for their child’s eyewitness account of the discovery would go a long way towards covering junior’s Christmas wish list.

Word would spread.

If that happened, progress became much harder to achieve. Suddenly you were fighting a tidal wave of pressure and flashbulbs, and weighing up every decision not just on its relevance to the case, but how it might be perceived by the public, especially when viewed through the distorted lens of the press.

She hadn’t enjoyed explaining to the DCS that, after being gifted the three victims’ identities, and two full days of undisturbed investigation, they still had no solid theories on why Joel Kowalski, William Tennent and Colin Wilson were dead. Doubt had been cast over her suspicions regarding the drug gang’s involvement, mainly due to the newly apparent MO. Had some violent gang member suddenly discovered his subtle side?

According to Pritchard’s latest text, forensics had been unable to extract any further clarity on recent DNA traces from the flat where the bodies were found.

And for now, even her theory about the killer’s MO being a potential poke in the Met’s ribs didn’t help matters. Because whatever such a possibility might reveal about their latest adversary, it would also make the case irresistible to the media.

Which might just be the killer’s aim.