In the event the only people on the premises were the landlord, whose name was Jack Pickering, and his wife Mandy. They were still clearing up after a long day.

They were both middle-aged and plump. He had a hard, lined face and a beer belly, and she was painfully thin with skin that sat in folds beneath her eyes.

Drummond made them sit in the bar as officers searched the place. He then piled in with questions while they were still reeling from the shock.

They both denied knowing anyone named Maria Rodriquez. But the husband flinched slightly when he was shown the woman’s passport photo.

‘Think carefully before you answer, Mr Pickering,’ Drummond warned him. ‘The woman is wanted on multiple counts of murder. She claimed her latest victim – another police officer – earlier this evening not too far from here. If we find out later that you lied to us you’ll be in deep, deep trouble.’

Pickering hesitated, then looked at his wife before he spoke. ‘She was here a few days ago. But only the one time.’

‘Who was she with?’

He swallowed, took a deep breath, said, ‘Whatever’s going on I’ve not been involved. I just run this pub.’

‘So who was she with, Mr Pickering?’

He looked at his wife again, and this time she grabbed his arm and said, ‘Tell them, Jack. Don’t let that bastard drag you into something as bad as this.’

Pickering nodded and turned back to Drummond.

‘She was here with Roy and Danny,’ he said.

‘You mean Roy Slack and Danny Carver?’

He nodded again. ‘Roy owns this boozer. I just work for him. He was here alone and then she arrived with Danny. They were only here for about forty-five minutes.’

‘And then where did they go?’

He shrugged. ‘I dunno. They left.’

Drummond held up the key ring taken from the hotel safe.

‘The woman had this with her. What does it open?’

Pickering frowned. ‘It’s the key to the garage out back. I’m under strict orders never to go in there. So I don’t.’

I didn’t believe him, but that was something we’d come back to later. First we needed to look inside that garage.

The contents of the garage came as a shock to all of us. It was an assassin’s lair, and it caused a wave of nausea to wash over me.

‘This is fucking unbelievable,’ Drummond said, and he wasn’t wrong.

The motorbike took up much of the space, but my eyes moved directly beyond it to a large table. On it there was a semi-automatic sniper rifle, no doubt the one used to kill the Commissioner. There was also a large commando knife, a garrotte and three mobile phones.

The only thing missing was the person who had been making use of them.

‘There’s enough stuff here to keep forensics busy for a month,’ Drummond said.