‘The commendation was well deserved, Brock, well deserved.’

‘Thank you, sir. It was much appreciated. And by DI Gurney.’

‘Bren Gurney, yes. And your DS, Kathy Kolla, she also performed extremely well, didn’t she? In difficult circumstances.’

Brock shifted uneasily in his seat. Sharpe’s memory for names was well known, but still, it sounded as if his boss had been checking up on his team.

‘Couple of important things I need to discuss with you, Brock. You’re familiar with the Verge inquiry, I take it?’

Of course he was-the whole country had been following it avidly since May, when the body of Miki Norinaga had been found in her bed, naked and stabbed through the heart. Her husband, prominent architect Charles Verge, had not been seen since, and the international hunt for the missing man had become a national obsession. The press carried regular reports of sightings from around the world, but none had yet resulted in an arrest.

‘It’s one of those cases that just won’t go away.’ Sharpe stirred his coffee vigorously. ‘Tabloids love it. Today he’s seen in Sydney, last week in Santiago. He’s Ronnie Biggs, Lord Lucan and the Scarlet Pimpernel all rolled into one. And he’s not just any architect. High profile, international reputation, knighthood pending-the very epitome of Cool Britannia.’ Sharpe snorted and sipped at his coffee.

‘It’s all very embarrassing,’ he continued. ‘He had some extremely important clients. Significant buildings for the German and Saudi governments, for instance, neither of which are pleased to find that their glossy new landmarks are the work of a murderer. And our friends in the Home Office are particularly cheesed off. Their new Verge masterpiece is nearing completion, a Category A prison as luck would have it-Marchdale, out in the fens. The Prince was going to do the opening, but that’s in doubt now, and the Home Secretary has been taking a lot of stick in the House. You can imagine what the press’ll make of the unveiling.