‘Well, a street tag. I haven’t had a chance to run a check yet.’

‘And? What the hell is it?’

‘Fluke.’

Nikki choked back a gasp.

‘You know him?’ It was Joseph’s turn to look surprised.

‘I know enough to say don’t bother running that check. You won’t find anything.’

The sergeant jutted his jaw forward. ‘So you’ve already had a lead on him?’

Nikki leaned back in her chair. ‘With regard to this case, no. And sadly I don’t know a damn thing about him.’

‘Then maybe I should get down to the Carborough and make a few enquiries?’

‘And you think they’ll talk to you?’ She gave a short laugh. ‘I don’t think so!’

‘Someone may. One of the mothers, perhaps.’ He shrugged. ‘They will have been pretty shaken up by a young kid getting stabbed.’

‘Oh get real, Sergeant. On the Carborough, it’s a common occurrence. And right now we have to concentrate on Kerry Anderson.’

‘She came from that estate.’ said Joseph pensively. ‘Do you think there may be a connection?’

‘I can’t make one, personally.’ The thought had already crossed Nikki’s mind. ‘Kerry comes from the northern side, not an area known for trouble, well, not anywhere near on the scale of that around the flats or the south side.’ She pulled a face. ‘And how would a hard-working young student possibly be connected to a spate of petty crimes committed by a load of masked yobs? It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Oh, that’s another thing that Callum said. He overheard this Fluke mention something called “Mask Wars”. He doesn’t know what it meant, and it’s only the intensity of that fight yesterday that made him think about it.’

‘Mask Wars?’ repeated Nikki softly. ‘They’d risk their lives for a crappy piece of rubber? Hell, I know some these kids have had half their brain cells devoured by alcohol and crack, but this is plain insanity.’

‘I agree,’ sighed Joseph, ‘But as you said, we have Kerry to worry about, so what now?’

Nikki finished her coffee and stood up. ‘Back to the University. I want to get up close and personal with her friends. Someone knows more about her relationship with “Kris with a K” than they’ve let on.’

‘You really don’t trust him, do you?’ Joseph grinned at her.

‘He’s a weirdo. And I don’t trust weirdo’s.’

As they arrived at Fenland University, the sun was just coming up. A green-gold glow suffused the glorious old trees that were a legacy of days gone by with an almost magical luminescence.

‘This is really beautiful,’ mused Joseph. ‘My university was an inner-city, concrete monstrosity.’