Vaughn walked from the helicopter towards the blackened, heat-distorted remains of the ancient Peugeot van. In addition to his military background Vaughn was a forensic science expert with a lot of past experience in fire investigations, and he knew what he was looking for. The extreme temperatures that had ravaged the vehicle had left the shell still warm to the touch and gently smoking, even hours after the fire fighters called out here late last night had extinguished the blaze. The charred body of the vehicle’s single occupant had been removed by the police and taken away to the morgue, which had been Vaughn’s first port of call on arrival in Zaragoza very early that morning. The authority of his high-up connections meant he’d had no trouble whatsoever in having the place opened up for him and breezing through the red tape to gain private access to the body.

When the attendant had slid open the drawer and pulled back the sheet, Vaughn hadn’t flinched at the sight that would have caused most people to throw up violently. Vaughn had waited until he was alone with the corpse, then used a phone to take several photos of it. There were no longer any clothes or hair, just the crispy remains of his leather boots and belt. The body was identifiably male, though that was about as much as you could tell.

The local coroner was yet to make their report but a quick inspection of the corpse revealed to Vaughn that the official cause of death would be put down as gunshot wound. There were at least two bullet holes that he could see in the roasted flesh of the victim’s upper torso. Hence, once rubber-stamped by the officials the man’s death would be written up as a murder, though Vaughn very much doubted that the Spanish police would ever come remotely close to finding a suspect.

But while the corpse’s most identifiable feature would have no meaning for the cops, it was of prime interest to Vaughn. He’d donned a pair of surgical gloves to remove the gold and titanium denture from the dead man’s mouth. It was perfectly undamaged. After taking several photos of it, he’d dropped it in an evidence bag to take away with him. He’d also used a scalpel to slice off a chunk of the dead man’s thigh – one of the few relatively unburnt parts of his anatomy – to give to the lab in London for DNA testing. Calls had been made to ensure that nobody here in Spain would quibble over the interference with evidence. When he’d finished with the body, Vaughn had rejoined his assistant and the pilot, and asked to be brought here to the death scene.