“That’s not possible,” said Banks.

“Oh? And why not, Superintendent Banks?”

“No physical evidence. Dodgy memories. Missing statements. With all due respect, ma’am,” Banks went on, “you’re a civilian. So is Mr. Moss. Most of the people you’re talking to here are veterans of many investigations, and the fact of the matter is that you simply can’t investigate a crime that happened almost fifty years ago in the same manner as you can investigate one that happened yesterday. All you have to go on is the accuser’s statement. I understand all about cold cases solved by new DNA evidence. They’re the ones that make the news, and I’ve seen New Tricks, but those are the exceptions. Do we even have any DNA in this case, for example?”

“I have no idea,” said Margaret Bingham, clearly irritated by Banks’s objections. “That’s for you to determine. And I may be a civilian, as you say, but I am the police and crime commissioner, and I have every right to ask my officers for their best efforts. That’s what I’m asking. You put as much time, effort, intelligence and investigative skills into this as you would into a sexual assault that happened yesterday. Believe me, you’ll have all the resources you need at your disposal.”

That was a good opening move on his part, Banks thought. Piss off the bosses and the crime commissioner at the first big meeting of the new job. But he’d never had much time for Margaret Bingham and her agendas. She and Adrian Moss would make a fine team. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.

McLaughlin cleared his throat again. “Though the Met is technically in charge of Operation Yewtree, Mr. Burgess here from the NCA will be bringing his expertise of the Child Exploitation and Online Protection command to bear on the case.”

Burgess tipped his hand in a mock salute. “At your service,” he said.

“What will your role be?” Banks asked.