“Zilch. The guy’s either a fantastic actor or, more likely, he didn’t know what I was talking about. But the bottom line is, I’ve been well and truly closed down.”

“Troy, don’t beat yourself up. I really appreciate you trying to help. I’ll keep working away at this end and see what breaks.”

“Look, Nic, I’ve been on the force for twenty-three years and I’ve only got two more to go, so I don’t really give a shit. If you need me, I’ll be there for you.”

* * *

Vargas finished the daily team briefing and returned to his office along with Torres. The hunt for García’s hiding place and his killers was not progressing well. It had been four days since the discovery of the San Francisco phone number, which had offered a glimmer of light before being snuffed out. Torres could tell his boss was rapidly descending into a dark place.

“Chief, I think I’ll pay another visit to García’s flat. I feel we may have missed something.”

“Okay. Take Alex with you. But, before you go, can you ask one of the team to bring me the García evidence bag?”

“Sure thing, chief, but there’s not a lot in there.”

Thirty minutes later, Vargas emptied a small pile of random objects from a transparent plastic bag onto his desk. They were the possessions García had on his person at the time of his arrest. The tiny collection included a battered brown leather wallet containing a small amount of pesos and dollars, a set of flat keys, a squashed pack of Marlboro Red containing four cigarettes and a disposable plastic lighter.

Vargas had seen everything before but found it strangely cathartic to check every item again. He flicked open the wallet, desperately hoping to find something he might have missed. But there was nothing. All the items were regular, run-of-the-mill belongings that anyone might own. His focus moved on to the small brass ring holding the keys to García’s flat. Something seemed wrong. He grabbed his mobile and speed-dialled Torres, who answered after a couple of rings.

“Juan, are you guys at the flat yet?”

“Yes, chief, we got here ten minutes ago.”

Vargas picked up the key ring and held it tightly in the palm of his left hand. “Go to the front door and tell me how many locks it has.”

Vargas held his breath as he waited for Torres to come back on the line.

“Two, chief. It’s got two locks.”

Vargas leapt to his feet in triumph. “Then why are there three keys on García’s key ring?”