‘What about it, Porter? That can wait, quite frankly. This takes priority.’

‘But, sir, the links between them are—’

‘The links between them are weak and circumstantial, Porter.’ Campbell’s voice cut across Porter’s. ‘We have no body, no firm evidence apart from that which points to her own father, which by the way you’re now suggesting may not in fact be a suicide, the more I hear.’

Porter opened his mouth to speak, but Campbell wasn’t finished. His voice reminded Porter of the whiny drone of hedge trimmers.

‘We’ve got two murders to solve already without turning a perfectly good suicide into a third, and adding a missing person on top. What we need is to close the book on whoever attacked our officers, and to establish how far up this drug ring goes.’

Porter stared at Campbell now with undisguised contempt.

A perfectly good suicide?

Had he really just said that? That was as clear an indication as to where Campbell’s priorities lay as any Porter had ever witnessed.

‘Until I’m convinced otherwise, we do not go anywhere near Alexander Locke. That’s one political applecart I don’t intend to upset unless or until we absolutely have to. For now, Bolton is our chief suspect, and I expect you and your team to focus all your attention on him and his associates. We get the evidence and we bring them in, but not before. I don’t want that prick Jasper looking that smug again. Ms Barclay has waited thirty years for somebody to ask where the hell she’s gotten to. I’m sure she can wait another week or two until we clean up this mess. Are we clear?’

Porter swallowed down a dozen more colourful career-limiting responses, and nodded slowly.

‘First briefing five o’clock today, then, please.’

Campbell smiled and held Porter’s gaze for a few seconds before turning his attention back to his beloved paperwork. Porter saw it for the dismissal it was and headed out to find someone to vent to.

Styles held out a mug as Porter walked past, like a caffeine version of a marathon runner visiting a water stop. Porter slowed as the cup changed hands, and completed his circuit of the desks until he reached his own and sat to face his partner.

‘Well? Did the Man from Del Monte say yes?’

Porter’s mouth twitched at the corners, stopping short of a full-blown smile.

‘Yes and no.’

‘Oh, you know how I love it when you go all cryptic and mysterious.’

This time Porter couldn’t help but smile. He quickly filled Styles in on his conversation with Campbell.

Styles shrugged. ‘You win some, you lose some. Could be worse. So we’re shelving Natasha for now?’