'We've got a blood group match from the victim to the white shroud and to the black plastic sheet. We hope to have a DNA match by tomorrow morning,' said Jorge. 'It looks to me as if they put him face down on the plastic to do the surgery.' He gave Falcon the measurements between a saliva deposit and some blood deposits and two pubic hairs which all conformed to the victim's height.

'We're running DNA tests on those, too,' he said.

'What about the acid on the face?'

'That must have been done elsewhere and rinsed off. There's no sign of it.'

'Any prints?'

'No fingerprints, just a footprint in the top left quadrant,' said Felipe. 'Jorge has matched it to a Nike trainer, as worn by thousands of people.'

'Are you going to be able to look at those bins tonight?'

'We'll take a look, but if he was well wrapped up I don't hold out much hope for blood or saliva,' said Felipe.

'Have you run a check on missing persons?' asked Jorge.

'We don't even know if he was Spanish yet,' said Falcon. 'I'm seeing the Medico Forense tomorrow morning. Let's hope there are some distinguishing marks.'

'His pubic hair was dark,' said Jorge, grinning. 'And his blood group was O positive…if that's any help?'

'Keep up the brilliant work,' said Falcon.

It was still raining, but in a discouragingly sensible way after the reckless madness of the initial downpour. Falcon did some paperwork with his mind elsewhere. He turned away from his computer and stared at the reflection of his office in the dark window. The fluorescent light shivered. Pellets of rain drummed against the glass as if a lunatic wanted to attract his attention.