‘Flippin’ hell, mate, have you seen this?’ comes a man’s voice from somewhere in the store.

‘What the . . .?’ replies his friend. ‘Are those real people?’

‘Yeah, it’s the same bloke what did those three homeless people in.’

Archer turns to look at the two men who are open-mouthed and staring down at a phone screen.

‘She’s fit,’ says one of the men. ‘Or was . . .’

Archer feels a chill run down her spine and notices other members of staff looking at the television behind Rachel.

‘Oh my God,’ says the sales advisor.

She is watching the television. Archer follows her gaze.

A BREAKING NEWS banner with the subtitle ‘Marshland Martyrs’ is rolling across the bottom of the screen and a live Facebook feed shows three tall vitrines filled with liquid. Each one has a body inside.

Archer moves closer.

The news anchor is talking but she cannot hear. ‘Please turn the volume up!’

Rachel unmutes the television.

‘. . . these pictures are just in from the Facebook page of the killer who calls himself @nonymous. They appear to show the bodies of three semi-naked women with their hands clasped together in prayer. Something is wrapped around their arms. I’m not sure what it is. The image is really quite extraordinary . . .’

‘Shit!’ says Archer. She phones Klara. ‘Have you seen the news?’

‘We’re watching it now. Where are you?’

‘Close by.’

‘I’m putting you on speaker . . .’

Archer hears the echo of Klara’s office and the low hum of voices.

Archer pays for the sim and hurries out of the store. ‘I’ll be there in five minutes. Can you get a trace on the Facebook feed?’

‘Yes, the geo location is on the feed . . . here it’s . . . it’s broadcasting from somewhere on the Greenwich Peninsula. I should have precise location in a few moments.’

Archer sprints past Covent Garden market dodging dawdling tourists.

‘Is DS Quinn there?’

‘I’m here,’ calls Quinn.

‘We need backup, medics, SOCOs.’

‘Already on it.’

‘Good. I’ll be there in a few minutes.’

*

Sirens scream and blue lights flash as Archer and Quinn race across London in a convoy of police vehicles. Archer watches the broadcast on her phone. The vitrines are lit from behind with a dim blue light. The victims’ hair floats like their long dark skirts that seem to move from side to side. They are naked from the waist up; their arms are tightly bound with barbed wire and their hands held up in prayer. Archer shudders.

There is only darkness around the cabinets and there is no sign of movement. Archer knows the killer is long gone.

Klara phones. ‘Calls are coming in from friends and family. I have IDs on the women. Elaine Kelly, Chau Ho and Megan Burchill. All three have a social media presence and none of them have been reported missing.’

‘They’re clearly not homeless then?’

‘Definitely not homeless. And Elaine Kelly is a mother.’