Half an hour later they were driving through heathland towards the sea. Yellow-tipped gorse and brown heather, a hint of the purple to come once that too was fully in flower. The road ended at a terrace of white cottages stuck out on their own. A grey sea churned in over a narrow strip of beach behind the cottages, and to the right stood several police vehicles. Two uniformed officers were preventing people in the nearby car park from venturing onto the heath and one of the officers waved down Holm as he drove up. Holm lowered the window and slipped out his identification.

‘I’m looking for Detective Chief Superintendent Cornish,’ Holm said. ‘Is she here?’

‘MI5?’ The officer peered down at Holm’s ID and raised his eyebrows at his colleague. He pointed across the heath to where several figures in white suits ghosted back and forth in a clump of stunted pines. ‘She’s over there.’

Holm thanked the officers and parked up.

They got out of the car, walked towards the trees and were met by an officer with a tablet which, when Holm flashed his ID once more, was thrust out for a signature.

‘I don’t think so,’ Holm said. He tapped his nose. ‘Not for Five, huh?’

For a moment the officer looked as if he was about to make a scene, but then he shrugged and let them pass.

‘Sir?’ Javed said.

‘A trace,’ Holm said. ‘As in we don’t want to leave one.’

Cornish stood over by the clump of pines conversing with a couple of white-suited CSIs. She had her back to them as Holm and Javed approached but was instantly recognisable from the long blonde hair which lay tightly plaited down to the small of her back. She had an inch or two on both the CSIs and a stature that suggested she could hold her own against anyone in a fight, male or female.

‘Stephen,’ Cornish said as she turned, offering her hand and smiling. ‘Great to see you again.’

Holm reached forward and took her hand. It seemed ridiculously formal considering he’d made love with this woman, lain in a post-coital embrace, their sweat mingling as their heartbeats slowed.

‘You too, Billie.’ Holm smiled back. Cornish looked as good as ever. Better. He had trouble believing she was forty. ‘It’s been a long time.’

‘Yes. The last case we worked on together was the girl we found in the Thames upstream of Teddington Lock. Three bin liners containing the body parts, the bags weighed down with bricks. If you remember, she was the wife of a right-wing nutcase who was planning to blow up a synagogue. She tried to do the right thing, but he killed her before she could report him. Of course in a strange way she still managed to put him behind bars. All’s well that ends well, hey?’