‘Ah yes, Craig’s idea of the iron maiden. A medieval instrument of torture.’ He glanced at Gillard, his indulgent smile conveying scepticism.

‘It’s possible isn’t it?’ Rainy asked.

Delahaye laughed. ‘Well, I suppose so. I looked it up last night after Craig first suggested it. The first references were in the nineteenth century, of medieval iron coffins lined with iron spikes. However, historians reckon they are mythical because of the lack of contemporary mention in the medieval era. Of course, just because they didn’t actually exist doesn’t automatically mean no one could invent one now. Certainly, the pattern and depth of contusions indicates that pressure seems to have come from above and below – assuming the victim was prone. It would have been nasty. However, I’m less convinced that this mesh is the source of the force applied, rather than having merely transmitted it to the body. It’s quite possible the netting was just being used to restrain the victim while he was crushed.’ He looked at the two detectives, his metal-framed glasses glinting in the cold clinical lights. ‘It’s your job to ascertain whether it may be a gangland punishment of some sort. That’s beyond my remit. All I would do is to point to the absence of any conventional signs of violence. Punches, kicks, stab wounds and so forth. A very disciplined gang, I would say.’

‘What about the broken nose?’ Gillard said.

‘Sustained pressure not trauma,’ Delahaye replied. ‘You get a nosebleed either way, of course. Gangland or not, I’d be happier to know what type of machine did this, whether it be hydraulic press, stamping equipment or something else, before passing judgement.’

‘Rainy, perhaps we can make that a project for you,’ Gillard said. ‘Research the type of industrial machines that can cause this injury. Everything, from forklifts to hydraulic presses, where gradual pressure is possible. Maybe start with the Health and Safety Executive, see what guidance they can offer.’

‘That sounds like quite a wee task.’

‘I’m sure you can get me some ideas by tomorrow morning.’

‘Oh aye, and I’ll have figured out cold fusion by teatime,’ she muttered.

Gillard shared a look with a smirking Delahaye, then asked: ‘Can we have a look at the rest of him?’

‘Of course,’ Delahaye said, undoing the zip on the body bag to the bottom.

The florid mauve patches were less marked further down the body, but the tops of the thighs and both kneecaps bore vivid purple diamond-shaped impressions. ‘You may recall from my report that the pressure on this kneecap was enough to snap the patella. That takes quite some doing.’

‘Whoever did this to him was very imaginative about it,’ Gillard said.

‘I do agree,’ Delahaye said, then looked to Gillard. ‘So have you made any more progress on finding who it was?’