‘I think it might be a good idea if you come with us to Charing Cross Police Station to make a statement,’ Quinn tells him.

Manly’s expression is grave. ‘There’s something else. In his last email, he, @nonymous said: MORE WILL FOLLOW.’

Archer and Quinn exchange concerned glances.

‘What did he mean by that?’ asks Quinn.

Manly shrugs. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

‘Tell me what you think it means?’

‘I would assume in light of these that it means that if this is the first part, then there will be further cabinets containing more bodies to come.’

‘During your email communications did you ask him to confirm what he meant?’

‘I told him that was very exciting and asked when we could see the next wave of the exhibition, but he didn’t respond. Our exchange was over at that stage.’

‘Mr Manly, we would like to see all communication and paperwork you have relating to @nonymous and this exhibition.’

‘Of course.’

Archer notices a man dressed in a hi-vis jacket, watching them from behind the tape. A street cleaner. She has a thought and walks towards him.

‘Hello,’ she says.

He is holding a cap in his hand and looks away, a worried expression on his face. ‘Hello,’ he responds. His accent is Eastern European, but she cannot place it.

‘Were you working earlier this morning?’

The street cleaner wrings his hat. ‘No . . . erm, yes. I did a few hours.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Dimitri Novak.’

‘Mr Novak, did you see the cabinets arrive?’

The street cleaner pales as he glances at the cabinets. ‘Yes, I saw them arrive.’

Chapter 3

3

‘I DON’T WANT NO TROUBLE,’ SAYS Novak nervously.

Archer offers a reassuring smile. ‘Mr Novak, do you have reason to believe you’ll get into trouble by speaking to us?’

He hesitates for a moment before shaking his head. ‘No.’

‘Tell us what you saw.’

‘They come early this morning.’

‘What time was that?’

‘I think . . . oh . . . just after six o’clock.’

‘Where were you going at the time?’

‘I had just finished outside the gallery.’

‘The National Gallery?’

‘Yes. I had turned the corner onto Charing Cross Road and I look around and I see a truck, like a big van. The back is open and there is a light. The truck is like cold inside, you know the type that take meat . . . beef, pigs, the sheep . . . you know what I mean?’

Archer nods.

‘But there is no meat. Just the cabinets, which are covered in the cloth. A red cloth, I think. Anyway, these men, they are wheeling the cabinets, with trolleys, you see, and putting them outside here.’ He points to the location of the cabinets. ‘That was it.’

‘How many men did you see?’

‘Two.’

‘What did they look like?’

Novak shrugs. ‘I do not know. It was dark. I couldn’t see their faces.’

‘Was there a company name written on the truck?’