The article’s headline was MP’S DAUGHTER DIES IN TRAGIC ROAD ACCIDENT. Shelton scrolled down. There were three images, the largest a picture of a young woman with a lopsided smile and tousled blond hair. She was younger than twenty, although something in her eyes hinted at experience beyond her years.

‘Bingo,’ Shelton said. ‘Nailed it.’

Ben and Wolf leaned close to the screen and stared hard at the girl’s face. Ben’s blood turned cold as he realised that Shelton was right. Wolf looked at Ben and nodded, thinking the same thing. She was the girl in the video, no question about it.

The image below showed a middle-aged couple who were obviously the girl’s parents, photographed outside an elegant Edwardian country home with a tall wrought-iron gateway in the foreground. The husband was tenderly comforting his wife, who was distraught and had her face pressed into his shoulder. The third image, below, was of the wreck of a two-seater sports car embedded in a tree and so badly smashed up that its front end was squashed like a concertina all the way up to its shattered windscreen.

‘Annie Dudley,’ Shelton said. ‘Nineteen years old, a model student at Sussex University. Travelling home alone from college when she lost control of her BMW Roadster on an empty road, for reasons as yet unclear. There were no witnesses. She suffered multiple injuries. Died instantly at the scene. Neat way to disguise the real cause of death, eh?’

‘Nice work,’ Wolf said acidly. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time someone pulled that trick.’

‘A private funeral service will be held on March twenty-eighth at the parish church of St Mary the Virgin in Hanbury, near the family home,’ Shelton read from the article. ‘That’s tomorrow, isn’t it?’

Ben nodded. He examined the picture of the parents. The man was tall, well-dressed, trimmer and more ruggedly handsome than the average politician. ‘Who’s the father?’

‘Some politician,’ Wolf said noncommittally. ‘Another fucking suit. They all look the same to me. At least this one still has his hair.’

Shelton turned away from the computer and raised his eyebrows at them. ‘Why, that’s Tristan Dudley, MP for Worcester and party favourite. Can’t say I know all that much about the guy, except that he’s one of the biggest names in British politics right now. Could be our PM one day. “Teflon Tris”, some of his rivals call him.’

‘Why?’

‘Because nothing ever sticks to him. I’ve read a couple of rumours that Dudley has managed to escape a number of scandals that would have been political death to most of his peers. Of course, he wouldn’t be the first politician to earn that kind of nickname.’

‘Friends in high places,’ Wolf said. ‘Useful thing to have.’

‘You have to wonder how useful,’ Ben said. ‘And how high.’

Shelton gave him a quizzical look. ‘Meaning?’