‘I know where they are, but I’m looking for the Flying Squad offices, which I was told were in Rigg Approach.’

‘The Sweeney work out of that place over there, not a nick,’ he said, pointing to a two-storey, grey brick office building with a flat roof. ‘I know most of the lads, as they’re regulars at my van. Anyone in particular you’re looking for?’

‘The DCI. I’ve got an appointment with him.’

‘Bill Murphy? That’s his office on the top floor – far right. I don’t think he’s in yet, as he hasn’t been down for his usual bacon and egg roll.’

‘Thanks for your help.’

Jane crossed the road and on closer inspection thought the building looked run-down. Although there were large windows on both floors, the ground floor ones all had faded white metal Venetian blinds, which were closed. The metal front door had a numbered push-button entry pad above the handle, and an intercom on the wall beside it. As Jane pressed the button on the intercom, she wondered what the building would be like on the inside.

‘How can I help you?’ a female voice asked over the intercom.

‘I’m WDS Tennison. I’m here to see DCI Murphy.’

‘Is he expecting you?’ the woman asked, in a haughty manner.

‘Yes, he is. I start on the Flying Squad today and was told to report to his office for ten a.m.’

‘It’s only 9.30, and he didn’t mention you to me – new officers generally start on Mondays.’

‘I’ve been in court all week and . . . Look, I’m getting soaked out here. Can you please open the door or tell me the number for the entry pad?’

The woman sighed. ‘I suppose so . . . The squad office is on the first floor.’

Jane thought the woman was rude and wondered if she was a detective on the squad or clerical staff. As she waited for the electronic lock to be released, she flapped her coat to remove some of the rain. As it was her first day on the Flying Squad, Jane wanted to look good and had worn a blue two-piece skirt suit, white blouse, stockings and black high-heeled shoes. She heard the electric lock on the door buzz, and leant forward to open it. Her hand was on the round knob when the door was pulled open with force from the inside, causing Jane to stumble forward. She felt a hand grab her arm tightly, stopping her from falling over.

‘You all right, luv?’ a deep male voice asked, as the man helped her straighten up.

Jane was dwarfed by the man. She noticed he had a pickaxe handle in his left hand. He was about six foot seven, with wide shoulders and a muscular frame. He had blond hair, blue eyes and boyish looks. He was dressed in a white England rugby shirt with the red rose emblem on the left breast.