‘Leah!’ he bellows.

Leah, Nelson’s admin assistant (or secretary, as he likes to call her), edges cautiously into the room. She is a delicate, dark girl of twenty-five, much admired by the younger officers. Nelson, though, sees her mainly as a source of coffee and an interpreter of new technology, which seems to get newer and more temperamental every day.

‘Leah,’ he complains, ‘the screen’s gone blank again.’

‘Did you switch it off?’ asks Leah. Nelson has been known to pull out plugs in moments of frustration, once fusing all the lights on the second floor.

‘No. Well, once or twice.’

Leah dives beneath the desk to check the connections. ‘Seems OK,’ she says. ‘Press a key.’

‘Which one?’

‘Surprise me.’

Nelson thumps the space bar and the computer miraculously comes to life, saying smugly, ‘Good afternoon, DCI Nelson.’

‘Fuck off,’ responds Nelson, reaching for the mouse.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Leah’s eyebrows rise.

‘Not you,’ says Nelson, ‘This thing. When I want small talk, I’ll ask for it.’

‘I assume it’s programmed to say good morning,’ says Leah equably. ‘Mine plays me a tune.’

‘Jesus wept.’

‘Chief Superintendent Whitcliffe says everyone’s got to familiarise themselves with the new computers. There’s a training session at four today.’

‘I’m busy,’ says Nelson without looking up. ‘Got a case conference out Swaffham way.’

‘Isn’t that where they’re doing that Roman dig?’ asks Leah.

‘I saw it on Time Team.’

She has her back to Nelson, straightening files on his shelves, and so fails to see the sudden expression of interest on his face.

‘A dig? Archaeology?’

‘Yes,’ says Leah, turning round. ‘They’ve found a whole Roman town there, they think.’