“Generally speaking, yes,” he said.

“Neil Greenham tells me there’s a divide between the assessment people and everyone else round here, with Ulrike on the assessment side. He indicated that’s a trouble spot.”

“That’s just Neil,” Kilfoyle said. He shot a look towards his helper and lowered his voice. “He hates being out of the loop. He takes offence easy. He’s keen to have more responsibility and-”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why’s he keen to have more responsibility?”

Kilfoyle moved from the Wellingtons to the remaining life jackets that had not been chosen for wear by the team going out on the Thames. “Most people want that in their jobs, don’t they? It’s a power thing.”

“Neil likes power?”

“I don’t know him well, but I get the feeling he’d like to have more say about how things are run round here.”

“And what about you? You’ve got to have bigger plans for yourself than volunteering in this kit room.”

“You mean here at Colossus?” He thought about this, then gave a shrug. “Okay, I’ll play. I wouldn’t mind being hired to do outreach when they open the Colossus branch north of the river. But Griff Strong’s angling for that. And if Griff wants it, it’s going to be his.”

“Why?”

Kilfoyle hesitated, weighing a life jacket between one hand and another as if he were also weighing his words. He finally replied, “Let’s just say Neil was right about one thing: Everyone knows everyone else at Colossus. But Ulrike’s going to make the decision on the outreach job, and she knows some people better than others.”

FROM THE BENTLEY, Lynley phoned the police station in South Hampstead and brought them into the picture: the body found that morning south of the river, which was possibly one of a series of killings…if the station would allow him a conversation with a certain Reverend Savidge who might soon be phoning them about a missing boy…Arrangements were made as he crossed the river, heading diagonally through the city.

He found Bram Savidge at his ministry, which turned out to be a former shop for electrical goods whose whimsical name Plugged Inn had been economically used as part of the church’s moniker, Plugged Inn to the Lord. In the Swiss Cottage area of Finchley Road, it appeared to be part church and part soup kitchen. At the moment, it was operating as the latter.

When Lynley walked in, he felt like an overweight nudist in a crowd wearing overcoats: He was the only white face in the establishment, and the black faces looking him over were doing so without much welcome. He asked for Reverend Savidge, please, and a woman who’d been dishing out a savoury stew to a line of the hungry went to fetch him. When Savidge turned up, Lynley found himself face-to-face with six feet, five inches of solid Africa, which was hardly what he’d expected from the public school sound of the man’s voice on the speakerphone in Ulrike Ellis’s office.

Reverend Savidge appeared in a caftan of red, orange, and black, while on his feet were roughly made sandals, which he wore without socks despite the winter weather. An intricately carved wooden necklace lay on his chest, and a single earring of shell, bone, or something very like dangled just below the height of Lynley’s eyes. Savidge might have just stepped off the plane from Nairobi, except his clipped beard framed a face not as dark as one would have expected. Aside from Lynley, he was actually the lightest-skinned person in the room.

“You’re the police?” That accent again, speaking not only of public schools and a university degree, but also of an upbringing in an area that was a far cry from his present community. His eyes-they were hazel, Lynley noted-took in Lynley’s suit, shirt, tie, and shoes. He made his evaluation in an instant, and it wasn’t good. So be it, Lynley thought. He showed his identification and asked if there was somewhere private for them to speak.

Savidge led the way to an office at the back of the building. They wound there through long tables set up for use in eating the meal being dished out by women wearing garb not unlike Savidge’s own. At these, perhaps two dozen men and half as many women wolfed down the stew, drank from small cartons of milk, and slathered bread with butter. Music played low to entertain them, a chant of some sort in an African tongue.

Savidge closed the door on all this when they got to his office. He said, “Scotland Yard. Why? I phoned the local station. They said someone would come. I assumed…What’s happening? What’s this all about?”

“I was in Ms. Ellis’s office when you phoned Colossus.”

“What’s happened to Sean?” Savidge demanded. “He didn’t come home. You must know something. Tell me.”

Lynley could see the reverend was used to being instantly obeyed. There was little doubt why this was the case: He dominated by simple virtue of being alive. Lynley couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a man who so effortlessly exuded such authority.

He said, “I understand Sean Lavery lives with you?”

“I’d like to know-”

“Reverend Savidge, I’m going to need some information. One way or the other.”

They engaged in a brief battle of eyes and wills before Savidge said, “With me and my wife. Yes. Sean lives with us. In care.”

“His own parents?”

“His mum’s in prison. Attempted murder of a cop.” Savidge paused, as if registering Lynley’s reaction to this. Lynley took care not to give him one. “Dad’s a mechanic over in North Kensington. They were never married, and he had no interest in the boy, before or after Mum’s arrest. When she went inside, Sean went into the system.”

“And how did you end up with him?”

“I’ve had boys in my home for nearly two decades.”

“Boys? Are there others, then?”

“Not now. Just Sean.”

“Why?”

Reverend Savidge went to a Thermos, out of which he poured himself a cup of something fragrant and steaming. He offered this to Lynley, who demurred. He took it to his desk and sat, nodding Lynley into a chair. On the desk, a legal pad held jottings, things listed and crossed out, circled and underlined. “Sermon,” Savidge said, apparently noticing the direction of Lynley’s gaze. “It doesn’t come easy.”

“The other boys, Reverend Savidge?”

“I have a wife now. Oni’s English isn’t good. She felt overwhelmed and a bit overrun, so I had three of the boys placed elsewhere. Temporarily. Till Oni settles in.”

“But not Sean Lavery. He’s not been placed elsewhere. Why?”

“He’s younger than the others. It didn’t feel right to move him.”

Lynley wondered what else hadn’t felt right. He couldn’t help concluding it might have been the new Mrs. Savidge, inadequate in English and home alone with a household of adolescent boys.

“How did Sean come to be involved in Colossus?” he asked. “It’s quite a distance for him to go there from here.”

“Colossus do-gooders came to the church. They called it outreach, but what it amounted to was talking up their programme. An alternative to what they obviously believe every child of colour would get up to, given half the chance and absent their intervention.”

“You don’t approve of them, then.”

“This community’s going to help itself from within, Superintendent. It’s not going to improve by having help imposed upon it by a group of liberal, guilt-ridden social activists. They need to toddle back to whichever of the Home Counties they came from, hockey sticks and cricket bats well in hand.”

“Yet somehow Sean Lavery ended up there, despite your feelings.”

“I had no choice in the matter. Neither did Sean. It was all down to his social worker.”

“But surely, as his guardian, you have a strong say in how he spends his free time.”

“Under other circumstances. But there was an incident with a bicycle as well.” Savidge went on to explain: It was a complete misunderstanding, he said. Sean had taken an expensive mountain bike from a boy in the neighbourhood. He’d thought he’d been given permission to use it; the boy had thought otherwise. He reported it stolen and the cops found it in Sean’s possession. The situation was considered a first offence, and Sean’s social worker suggested nipping any potential for illegal behaviour in the bud. So Colossus came into the picture. Savidge had initially, if reluctantly, approved the idea: Of all his boys, Sean had been the first to come to the notice of the police. He was also the first who wouldn’t attend school. Colossus was supposed to remedy all this.