‘Come in and sit down, Inspector.’
Danilov strode into Chief Inspector Rock’s office. The studied informality of Boyle’s day was gone. The picture of racehorses behind the desk had been removed and replaced by a blackboard. The desk itself, formerly covered in pictures of Boyle’s wife, ashtrays, cigar and cigarette boxes, and the detritus of the day, had been cleared. A tray had been placed in each corner, one marked ‘In’ and the other ‘Out’. The in-tray was empty while the out-tray was full. And where a large onyx ashtray had once sat, there was now one of the new intercoms. Miss Cavendish was available at the touch of a button instead of the traditional loud bellow.
In the centre of the desk, a pristine blotting pad sat with three pens at its head: one blue, one red and one black. Next to it, at a ninety-degree angle, lay a black desk diary with Rock’s name engraved in gold on the cover
Danilov sat in the single bentwood chair facing the desk. He heartily approved of the Chief Inspector’s neatness. It wasn’t quite perfect, though. The pens were ten degrees off the horizontal. He wondered whether he should point it out.
Rock took out a file from the desk drawer. Danilov didn’t know he had a file. Certainly, none had existed in Boyle’s day. Miss Cavendish would have told him if it did.
‘Danilov – a Russian name, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Straight down to business. None of the small talk or offers of cigarettes that had been Boyle’s way of opening any conversation.
Rock’s eyes scanned the document. ‘Joined the force in 1925. Previously with the Russian Imperial Police?’
‘Yes, sir. Based in Minsk.’
‘But you’re not Byelorussian?’
Danilov was surprised. Not many Englishmen knew Minsk was in Byelorussia. ‘No, sir, my father was in the Imperial Civil Service. A vice-governor, seconded from Moscow. I stayed in Minsk and joined the police.’
Rock’s eyebrows flickered slightly. ‘Not a normal career for the son of a vice-governor?’
‘No, sir.’ Danilov thought back to the arguments with his father. Long, bitter arguments. His father had been disappointed in his choice. ‘The only good police force is one that employs fewer criminals than it catches,’ he had said during one of their fights. But the words had only spurred him on to join up and make a difference, however small.
‘Hmm.’ Rock stroked the end of his moustache with his right hand, pressing the immaculately groomed hairs back into a position they had never left. ‘It says here, you were seconded to Scotland Yard In 1911.’
‘Yes, sir. I spent two years in London. We never did catch the Russian anarchists we were searching for.’
Rock looked up from the file. ‘Before or after Sidney Street?’
‘During, sir. I was in the initial raiding party and stayed till the end.’
‘So you saw Svaars and Sokoloff being carried out?’
Danilov nodded. ‘I tried to negotiate with them in Russian, but they were having none of it. As Latvians, they saw it as their duty to die.’
‘Hmm. Before my time, I’m afraid. Who did you work with?’
‘Deputy Commissioner Stevenson.’
‘Again, never knew him. Didn’t join the force until 1918, straight from the Military Police.’
‘So I heard, sir.’
Rock stared at him before returning to read from the file. ‘Married with two children?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Danilov waited for the next words from Rock.
‘Separated from wife and children during the Revolution. They are presumed missing…’
‘Not true, sir.’
Again the flicker of the eyebrow. ‘Really? My sources are usually impeccable.’
The source was obviously the one person who knew everything that was happening in the station: Miss Cavendish.
‘My wife and son were last seen in Vladivostok. My daughter, Elina, is with me in Shanghai. I was reunited with her last year.’ Danilov looked at his feet. ‘I will find my wife and son, sir. They are out there waiting for me, somewhere.’ Cartwright’s sneer came back to him. ‘The supposedly great detective who can’t even find his own wife.’ He looked up and stared at his new boss. ‘I will find them one day.’
‘Hmm. I’m sure you will, Danilov. Never married myself; couldn’t find the right woman or the right time. Married to the job, I think.’
Danilov stayed silent.
Chief Inspector Rock closed the file, setting it back in the drawer in the desk. He leant forward, folding his arms on the white blotter. ‘Listen, Danilov. You have a reputation as a maverick. In my force, there is no room for those who don’t play by the rules. There are procedures to follow, forms to be filled in, plans to execute. We will be professional. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Rock leant back and smiled again. The smile of a cat who has just eaten the cream. ‘Now, tell me about this attempted murder.’
‘Not much to say at the moment. A naked woman found running through the streets of Shanghai.’
‘She was shouting your name, I believe.’
He was well informed, thought Danilov. ‘Apparently, she was, sir. She’s in Shanghai General at the moment, under sedation.
‘Why was she shouting your name? ‘
‘That’s what I have to find out, sir.’
‘Do you know the woman?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
Chief Inspector Rock raised one eyed quizzically.
Danilov felt he should explain. He hated explaining. ‘She has over one hundred and fifty cuts to her body and is wrapped in bandages. I was unable to see her face.’
Chief Inspector Rock rubbed his nose as if removing a fly that had landed there. ‘No identification?’
‘She was just wearing underwear when she was found. No ID on her.’
Rock cleared his throat. ‘Well, get on with it, man. Find out who assaulted this woman and find out quickly. Look for the patterns. Has anybody else been assaulted in a similar way recently? Has anybody just been released from prison with a record of offences against women? Has anybody been charged with a similar assault but released?’
Danilov was impressed. These were exactly the questions he had been asking himself, searching for the patterns in this crime. ‘I agree completely, sir, Detective Sergeant Strachan is checking as we speak.’
‘Good, make sure he doesn’t slacken off. I heard his mother was recently murdered,’ Rock said bluntly
He was well briefed. ‘Correct, sir.’ Danilov looked for a trace of empathy in the face of the man sitting in front of him but found none.
‘Make sure he works hard. Nothing like work to help a man get over grief. Give him no time to brood, Danilov.’ Rock returned to the papers in front of him, picking up the red pen to write something in the margin.
Danilov realised the interview was over. ‘I look forward to working with you, sir.’
Rock coughed again. Without looking up, he said, ‘Likewise, Inspector Danilov. Catch the man and catch him quick. I want this solved.’
‘I think this could be more difficult and dangerous than we think, sir.’
‘What’s that?’ Rock’s eyes darted up from his memo. ‘Difficult and dangerous? Utter tosh. He’s just another criminal who deserves to be caught.’
There was a single rap on the door. Danilov could see two shapes through the frosted glass.
‘I said I wasn’t to be disturbed.’
The door opened anyway. A flustered Miss Cavendish and a cool Strachan were framed in the doorway.
‘I’m sorry for intruding, Chief Inspector, but Detective Sergeant Strachan needs to see the inspector urgently.’
Rock sighed. ‘What is it, man?’
‘A body has been found at the Shanghai Club, sir. A murder…’
Danilov nodded once and stood up. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Chief Inspector.’
‘Of course, Danilov. Report back to me as soon as you’ve finished with the crime scene. I want to know everything.’
Danilov hurried out of the door, hearing Chief Inspector Rock’s words repeated as he left the office. ‘I want to know everything.’
He didn’t bother to answer.