What the hell was going on? Why were they talking to Bishop about her? He had never been her commanding officer. She’d resisted a transfer to the nascent profiling task force, principally because it was Tony’s personal fiefdom and she had wanted to avoid working closely with him for a second time. But in spite of her best intentions, she’d been sucked into an investigation that should never have needed to happen, and in the process had broken rules and crossed boundaries that she didn’t want to think too closely about. She certainly didn’t want the interviewers who were considering her for a senior analyst’s post to be confronted by Paul Bishop’s dissection of her past conduct. He’d never liked her, and as Carol had been the most senior officer involved in the capture of Britain’s highest profile serial killer, he’d reserved most of his anger about the maverick operation for her.

She supposed she’d have done the same in his shoes. But that didn’t make her feel any happier with the notion that Paul Bishop had just walked into the room where her future was being decided. All of a sudden, Carol had lost her appetite.

‘We were right. She’s perfect,’ Morgan said, tapping his pencil end to end on his pad, a measured gesture that emphasized the status he believed he held among his fellow officers.

Thorson frowned. She was all too aware of how many things could go wrong when unfathomable emotions were dragged into play in an operation. ‘What makes you think she’s got what it takes?’

Morgan shrugged. ‘We won’t know for sure till we see her in action. But I’m telling you, we couldn’t have found a better match if we’d gone looking.’ He pushed his shirtsleeves up over his muscular forearms in a businesslike way.

There was a knock at the door. Surtees got up and opened it to admit Commander Paul Bishop. His colleagues didn’t even glance up from their intense discussion.

‘Just as well. We’d have looked bloody stupid if we’d come this far and then had to admit we didn’t have a credible operative. But it’s still very dangerous,’ Thorson said.

Surtees gestured to Bishop that he should take the chair Carol had recently vacated. He sat, pinching the creases in his trousers between finger and thumb to free them from his knees.

‘She’s been in dangerous places before. Let’s not forget the Jacko Vance business,’ Morgan reminded Thorson, his jaw jutting stubbornly.

‘Colleagues, Commander Bishop is here,’ Surtees said forcibly.

Paul Bishop cleared his throat. ‘Since you’ve brought it up … If I could just say something about the Vance operation?’

Morgan nodded. ‘Sorry, Commander, I didn’t mean to be so rude. Tell us what you remember. That’s why we asked you to come along.’