‘It appears to be a kind of hand-written memoir … an account of Martin Torgau’s entire career as an assassin working exclusively for the Crew.’

Lucy looked up slowly.

‘It details almost every murder he’s ever committed, those he could remember … going way back to his earliest days.’

Initially, Lucy couldn’t respond. This was too good to be true. ‘Why would he create such a record?’

Nehwal shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe as a form of insurance against the Crew ever turning on him. Perhaps as a training guide for his daughters. There’s some grisly detail in there. And making his daughters au fait with every aspect of the family trade seems to have been his focus these last few years.’

‘Does it name and shame the bastards who hired him?’

‘Well …’ Nehwal was careful how she replied to this. ‘We’ve not gone through it closely yet, but some players are mentioned by name. Not that it will necessarily be useful against them. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a treasure trove in terms of new leads appertaining to a number of open cases dating back several decades. We’ve already dispatched search teams to look for key missing remains. But in terms of convictions, well … when you’ve only got the written word of a dead man, who was also a psychopath and mass murderer in his own right. Plus, you know what top-level mobsters are like. They’ve got the best legal representation, they’ve got fake witnesses coming out of their ears, foolproof alibis, the lot.’ She shrugged again. ‘We can certainly bring in a few Crew underbosses for questioning, but whether it’ll go further than that … who can say?’

Lucy nodded.

‘Of course –’ Nehwal looked sternly down at her ‘– the question you really want answering is whether Frank McCracken is mentioned?’

Lucy glanced up at her. She didn’t deny it.

‘Not, as I’ve seen so far,’ Nehwal said. ‘Though, as I say, I haven’t gone through it with a fine-tooth comb. Your father must have been a smart guy to reach the level he has, Lucy. If he ever did use Torgau, all the contacts were likely made by underlings, all fees paid in cash so there’d be no electronic trails to follow. On which subject, the death of Martin Torgau himself still needs investigating.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘Didn’t you say you thought you recognised one of the team that hit him?’

Lucy pondered this. She hadn’t seen Mick Shallicker’s face, of course, but had clearly recognised him by his voice and height. Even so, she replied: ‘I didn’t see anyone well enough to identify them, ma’am.’

Nehwal’s face turned stony again.

‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy said. ‘They were all masked, so how could I have recognised anyone?’

‘Only yesterday, you told me—’

‘I was wrong. Probably because I was so shaken up.’