‘Exactly.’

‘Then he wanted us to find her. He’s getting even more fearless,’ said Harper. ‘He’s taking risks. He might have taken her out by the park and transported her here. Pretty risky.’

Harper let the thought take him. Marisa was different. She hadn’t been staged to look like something else. Not this time. Maybe the killer was feeling the urge and losing his control. Maybe he was feeling the pressure mounting.

‘I hope you find a slug in her body somewhere.’

‘No doubt,’ said Selinas.

‘Listen, get it to Ballistics, tell them to give me a call.’

‘Will do.’

Harper looked down at the brown-haired woman at their feet. ‘If the bullet and the boot polish match up, then I’m going to ask to take this over. Sorry to butt in like this.’

‘Reckon you might need to,’ said Selinas.

‘I’ll get Lafayette to square it with your squad.’

Harper moved in and sat on the platform by the body. His mood changed. He wanted to reach out, put his hand on her, pull her out of that horrible painful position. Even though she was dead, you still empathized with the body. It still hurt to see it cold and in a position of pain.

Why had the killer gone for Capske and now Marisa Cohen? Were they randomly chosen? What if Abby Goldenberg was linked somehow?

Harper wasn’t sure. Even if Marisa Cohen was also the victim of some hate crime, David Capske hadn’t been. Or, Harper suddenly thought, he hadn’t reported it. The link was Leo Lukanov or someone connected to Lukanov. He called Eddie across.

‘Eddie, see if you can talk to Lucy Steller and any friends of David Capske. Ask about hate crime. Did he ever get targeted?’

‘I’ll get on to it,’ said Eddie.

Harper looked at the hands again. The marks of someone thrashing about for freedom. The water must’ve been so damn cold. How long would a body last? An hour at most.

Harper stood up. He turned to Eddie. ‘He was here for an hour, sitting by the water’s edge as she froze to death. Tell Crime Scene. He might have left something.’

Harper looked down and shone a flashlight into the dark water. ‘Eddie, I don’t think she’s got a blouse on. Tell Selinas to keep a look out.’ Harper leaned out further and tried to peer through the water. The woman’s bra was dark against her white skin. He felt intrusive, like a voyeur, but he leaned in closely. ‘Come on, you bastard, what were you doing? Did you tattoo her too?’

Harper walked along the sea front, trying to locate the position the killer would have watched from. He knew that the killer liked the excitement of getting seen, so he presumed he’d sit somewhere he could see the floating body and the road. Harper moved right to the edge of the platform, out to the last raised post. He knelt and looked. It didn’t take long. This killer wasn’t hiding his mark. There it was, a small, neatly carved 88 on top of the post.

Interrogation Room, North Manhattan Homicide

March 9, 8.41 p.m.

Harper sat with Blue Team watching Garcia interrogate Lukanov. ‘It’s not him,’ said Harper. ‘He might be a little cog in this wheel, but he was in here when Marisa Cohen was killed.’

‘How tight is the link?’

‘I followed the body to the morgue. Dr Pense looked it over. Three similarities. The boot polish, the same caliber bullet with a close head-shot, and she had something tattooed on her chest.’

‘What was it?’

‘88.’

‘Shit.’

‘And then something indecipherable.’

‘No idea what it says?’

‘We don’t know yet, but it’s our guy.’

‘So Lukanov is out of the picture.’

‘For now,’ said Harper. ‘Denise is working on this new information. She says that the writing on the corpse is important to him. He does it before they’re dead. It might dehumanize them.’

‘What about Esther? Did she have a number on her?’

‘No, there’s no record of it. I’ve got the autopsy photographs coming across, so we’ll have a look ourselves. Seems that they ignored the overkill once they had evidence linking this mugger to the crime.’

They looked through the two-way. Garcia slapped the table and stood up. A moment later, he appeared in the observation room.

‘He’s trained,’ said Garcia. ‘No other explanation. They’ve trained him. I’ve seen it before. No answer is the only answer. Or else you just tie yourself in knots. Martin Heming is their lead, right? He might have a military background. We should check it out, find out what we’re up against.’

Harper looked across. ‘You’ve got no subtlety, that’s the problem.’

‘Fuck you,’ said Garcia. ‘You going to do better?’

Harper went to the wall and picked up a big file of information. ‘The game has changed. If Lukanov didn’t do it, then we need information from him, not a confession. Information needs a different approach. I got a lot of background on this Leo Lukanov from Eddie and you guys. We got plenty of stuff on him. Let’s draw him out.’

Harper stood at the door of the interrogation room and stared at the sad figure before him. He sat opposite the big man as Eddie slipped in behind and leaned against the wall. ‘You remember me?’ said Harper.

There was no response. Harper nodded. ‘You fought well in the alley. Hit me hard. You got the build. Could be a fighter if you put your mind to it.’

Leo Lukanov continued to stare at the table. Harper pushed a packet of cigarettes across to him. ‘Take one. You’ve had a tough night.’ Harper paused. ‘They set us up when we’re useful, then abandon us, don’t they? This is what they do.’

Lukanov looked up. Harper caught his eye. ‘I’m talking about bosses. People in charge. People who think they know better. You know the kind of people I’m talking about, Leo. People with all the orders — but you know what? Where are they when the shit hits the fan? Where are they, Leo?’

Lukanov reached out and took a cigarette. Harper waited. He needed the man to engage. Harper withheld the matches and stared up at the wall. Finally, Leo looked up. ‘You got a light?’

‘Sure,’ said Harper. He leaned forward and struck a match. Lukanov dragged hard on the cigarette.

‘People like you are in the front line. You’re taking all the risks, while someone sitting back there is drinking a cold one. I tell you something, Leo, if I could have my way, I’d get rid of bosses and orders. The reason they give orders is because they’re too scared to do the job themselves. Look at this. Will you take a fucking look at it.’

Leo looked up, as Harper flicked through a sheaf of paper. ‘You know what this is? This is paperwork. They want us to go out and risk our necks and they want fucking paperwork.’

‘It’s bullshit,’ said Leo.

‘It is bullshit. But if I don’t do it, I get canned. You don’t follow orders, what do they do? Smash your car? Beatings?’

Leo turned his head away.

‘I know about the beatings, Leo, and the threats — they told me.’ Harper watched. It was a bluff, but not a big one. ‘Think about this, Leo. When you joined up, did they ever tell you that they wanted a fall guy, someone to go down, while they escape? I bet they didn’t sell it like that, did they?’

‘No.’

‘Let’s just complete this paperwork and get you out of here. Far as I can see, you didn’t lay a finger on anyone until things got intense. You hit me, but you could argue you didn’t know who the fuck I was. I didn’t show any ID, right?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Any lawyer with half a brain could get you off. So let’s just get this done right now.’

‘How so?’

‘Ticking boxes, Leo, that’s all I’m doing. I’m a trained fucking box ticker. You think cops are thick? Now you know why.’

Leo laughed.

‘That’s right, Leo. We’re a bunch of sheep. No one’s independent. No one’s operating from personal integrity. I bet it feels like that with you, doesn’t it? You don’t call the shots any more.’