She seemed far too brisk and chirpy for so early in the morning, thought Annie, not at all a morning person herself. Especially a morning after the boozy night they’d had. At least it was quiet in the flat. No kids screaming next door. No domestics from upstairs. Maybe Ian would be quiet. And a cup of tea in bed. Now, that was a rare treat.

She checked her watch. Half past seven. She had better get a move on; there was a lot to do today. Banks would already be at the postmortem. Then she remembered last night’s conversation, the card with the number on it. She still had it in an envelope in her bag. She would have to get it fingerprinted as soon as possible. And Banks would want to know everything Alex had told her. She reached for her handbag and checked her notebook. Thank God she had written it all down. Then she realized another thing. From this moment on, she couldn’t leave Alex and Ian alone. Until she could organize a shift of watchers, she would have to stick with them herself, or get someone else to do it. Her unexpected visitor didn’t sound the sort who would stop at a broken finger.

When Alex came back, Annie asked if she could use the bathroom.

“Of course,” said Alex. “It’ll take Ian half an hour to get out of bed, and I’ve got breakfast to make. Take your time.”

Annie luxuriated in a hot shower and then brushed her teeth so long that she probably wore off most of the enamel. She had forgotten to do it last night, so she was making up for it now. Luxury. When she looked for some paracetamol in the bathroom cabinet, she noticed a strip of contraceptive pills. So there were to be no more children, at least not for the time being. It was none of her business, and she felt vaguely guilty about even finding them. But it was her nature to pry, and when she did, she found nothing more of interest. No prescription drugs. No illegal drugs. No guns.

She hated dressing in yesterday’s clothes, but she had no choice. She thought of asking Alex for a loan of clean underwear but felt too embarrassed. The best she could do was turn her knickers inside out and pretend they were fresh. The bra was fine, and her jeans, but she could do with a different top, and she had no time to go home before she went to the station.

Things progressed slowly through tea, cornflakes and toast and marmalade, and eventually they were all ready for off. Though she felt she was perhaps being paranoid, Annie went out of the door first and glanced up and down the landing. Nobody around. She held her breath as they went down in the lift, half expecting the doors to open at six or four and for some heavies to get in. But they had it to themselves the whole way down.

She had been a bit anxious the previous evening about leaving her car parked in the street, expecting the wheels to be gone, or worse, but Alex had told her not to worry, and it was just as she had left it. Though Ian’s school was hardly more than a ­couple of hundred yards away, they dropped him off there first and made sure he was through the doors before driving to the station. If Winsome, Doug or Gerry noticed that Annie was wearing the same clothes as yesterday when she entered the squad room, they were too polite to say anything. She remembered once in her early days she had turned up at the station in yesterday’s clothes, and all the blokes had nudged one another and whispered and smirked. They wouldn’t let her forget for the rest of the day. And if she had compounded the error by turning up with an attractive female civilian in tow, their imaginations, and comments, would have known no bounds. Annie introduced Alex to her colleagues, then took her over to the annex.

She could see Alex’s eyes wandering everywhere, an expression of intelligent curiosity on her face as they walked among the lab-­coated techies and the various machines and computer stations.

“I hadn’t thought it would be so high-­tech,” Alex said.

“No expense spared for crime fighting,” said Annie as they entered the Fingerprint Development Laboratory, Vic Manson’s domain. “Except when it comes to our wages, of course.”

Manson was at his desk already, poring over a stack of photographed fingerprints. He covered them with a folder when he saw there was a civilian present. Annie wondered why. It wasn’t as if Alex would recognize someone’s fingerprint from a photograph. Normally, of course, no one would go to Manson’s office for fingerprinting; that would be done down at the custody suite. But Manson had all the latest technology, and instead of ink and paper, he simply scanned Alex’s prints, leaving out the broken one, into the computer after Annie had explained what they were after. “These will be erased as soon as we’ve finished,” Manson assured Alex, who said she didn’t really care, as she had nothing to hide.

“Getting fingerprints from porous surfaces is much easier than it used to be a few years ago,” Manson explained as he held the card by its edge between his thumb and forefinger. “But the quality still depends on how much the handler secreted. Paper and cards such as this one are absorbent, you see, so we need to use special chemicals to make them visible. It may take a little time.”

“He was sweating, if that helps,” Alex said.

Manson looked curiously at her.

“The man who gave the card to me,” Alex explained. “He’d just had to walk up the stairs to the eighth floor, you see. The lift’s on and off, and it was off when he came. He didn’t look very fit, either.”

“Excellent. That should help a lot,” said Manson. Then he waved his hand. “Now if you’ll give me a little time, I’ll get back to you later. I’ve still got a mass of work to get through from the hangar and the crash scene first, but I should be able to find time to fit this in sometime later today.”

“When do you think you’ll have a result?” Annie said. “It’s all connected, we think. The crash. The hangar. This man.”

“I’ll do my best to have something by the end of the day,” said Manson.

“Can you run it against NAFIS, see if you can come up with a name?”

“NAFIS? You’re a bit out of date, Annie. We’re more advanced than that now. I can run it against IDENT1, Eurodac, Europol and Interpol databases, too.”

“Well, I suppose that gives us one good reason to stay in the EU.”

Manson laughed. “We can even check with the FBI, if you like.”

“You know me and technology, Vic. I’m just a silly slip of a lass. Europe wouldn’t be a bad idea, but I don’t think we need trouble the Feds just yet.”

“Will do,” said Manson. “I’ll give you a bell.”

Annie thanked him and shepherded Alex out of the lab. She looked as if she wanted to stay and watch, but Annie knew Manson wouldn’t like that. Like many a scientist, he wanted to preserve the mystique, the magic, mystery and secrets of his profession, like the conjuror who won’t reveal how he pulls a rabbit out of the hat.

“What now?” said Alex as they walked back down the corridor toward the squad room.

“Work for you, after the sketch artist. Me, too. I have to go to Leeds this morning.”

“What about—­”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of before I go anywhere.” There was no point now, she thought, in keeping the surveillance from Alex. Especially as knowing that there would be someone watching over her might ease her stress levels. Doug Wilson could take care of it for today, he said. She knew that Banks would approve, as Alex had now become a priority, if not a major witness. She was the best lead they had to Morgan Spencer’s killer and to another member of the gang. “Ian will be fine at school, and you’ll be fine at work, but I’ll make sure there’s someone keeping an eye out for both you, and someone to take you to pick up Ian and go home.”

“But how will I know he’s real?”

“You’ve already seen him. In the squad room.”

“The one who looks like Harry Potter?”