‘So, in short, it goes to the tip?’ Hoskins asked, clearly exasperated by the bureaucratic lingo.

‘In short, yes.’

‘Do you ever get mobile phones turn up in the rubbish?’ Gillard asked.

Perkins laughed. ‘Last year there were over 7,600 mobiles left on trains coming into Waterloo. But generally not in the waste receptacles. They tend to be left on seats or in luggage, coats or jackets. That makes commuters look like a very careless bunch, but actually it’s simply a result of the enormous numbers of people that use the railway. In 2018 there were 94.4 million passenger journeys. We are Britain’s busiest railway station,’ he said proudly.

Within twenty-four hours of her being reported missing, the search for Beatrice Ulbricht had been ramped up into a major investigation, using the Holmes-2 major inquiry database. As senior investigating officer, Gillard had a team of eight officers drafted in purely to look through CCTV, while another twelve detective constables dealt with the calls received from the public on the information line. The Metropolitan Police had allocated two officers to interview fellow students and friends in London, while the British Transport Police had offered a liaison officer. A press conference was due to take place at six that evening with a formal public appeal, but already the early editions of the free London papers, widely distributed across Surrey’s commuter network, were carrying the story. The front pages carried glamorous pictures of Beatrice in evening dress, embracing her violin, wavy hair cascading over one shoulder. The inside pages showed a series of hazy stills from the railway’s CCTV cameras, of her carrying a violin case and wearing the distinctive fedora.

Gillard had set up an incident room meeting for one p.m. as a working lunch, with sandwiches provided from the chief constable’s personal budget. There was no surer sign of a high priority case than bought-in food.

He was under no illusions. The major effort was being made to coincide with the arrival from Germany of Karl-Otto Ulbricht, Germany’s Minister of Justice and father of the missing woman. He would be accompanied in his brief trip to Mount Browne by the British Home Secretary. They would arrive around six o’clock.

No pressure, then.

Gillard’s first port of call on return was the surveillance suite. This was part of Mount Browne’s forensic centre, and was set up to provide the equipment needed to review CCTV. This was the first time they’d ever had the staff to fill every desk. They were led by DC Carrie Macintosh, who had just transferred over from Police Scotland. Ms Macintosh, inevitably known as Rainy, had abandoned her seven-year career as a junior doctor because of the stress and long hours. With spiky hair, a no-nonsense demeanour and an earthy Glaswegian sense of humour, she fitted in well with the largely male CID. One of the lads, all agreed.

‘Have you managed to trace her?’ Gillard asked.

‘Nope, she’s vanished, sir.’

Hoskins had managed to establish that Ms Ulbricht had got up from her seat in carriage eight and, taking her violin, had moved through into carriage seven. After that the trail went cold and Rainy’s team had made little progress ‘The CCTV in number seven didnae work,’ she said. ‘One camera produced nae image at all, and the other image was snowier than a blizzard.’