‘But, sir, I’m sure he’s taken Miss Cavendish.’
‘Why, Inspector Danilov? Based on some poem printed in the newspaper?’
Chief Inspector Rock was sitting behind his desk, his arms folded and resting on his chest. A new clock was mounted on the wall above the policeman’s head. Its ticking a loud distraction.
Danilov was standing in front of him, counting off on his fingers. ‘First, Chief Inspector, Miss Cavendish never misses work. Second, her mother has reported her missing. Third, she was last seen leaving the station at 6.30 last night…’
‘She could have gone away, Inspector. Women do that all the time.’ He shook his head. ‘No, it’s too early to identify Miss Cavendish as the next victim. We don’t have enough evidence.’ His eyes darted towards his in-tray. A stack of files was waiting for review. Above his head, the loud ticking reminded him he was wasting time.
‘And there are also the characters inscribed on the body of Rossana Gurdieva.’
‘You told me it was two characters. The characters for England, apparently.’
‘Again, he’s letting us know the nationality of the next victim.’
Rock smiled. ‘I don’t have to remind you…’ He reached forward and opened a book on his desk, his finger tracing a column of numbers. ‘There are 16,458 British nationals residing in Shanghai at the moment. If you are right, and I stress if, any one of those people could be the victim. Have we checked missing persons recently?’
Danilov’s eyes looked up to the ceiling. Why was the man so slow? Why couldn’t he see what was in front of him? Why couldn’t he see the obvious?
The clock ticked over.
12.15.
Danilov scratched his head. Try once more. Help him to see. ‘It was the poem that was the final clue, sir.’
‘A lady, pearl adorned,
Her life always scorned,
In England, never a foot would set,
At one, her end be met,
Rats rotten to the core,
Let slip the dogs of war.’
‘I’m not an expert but not good poetry, is it?’
‘But it can only refer to Miss Cavendish, sir.’
Chief Inspector Rock reached to his left and pulled out a file from his in-tray. He read the title: Holiday Provisions for Overseas Sergeants and Other Ranks. He needed to sort this out and quickly. Far too much time was being lost travelling to and from the United Kingdom. There must be a more satisfactory method of arranging people’s leave.
Danilov was still standing in front of him.
‘I’m not convinced, Inspector. Carry on with the assignment you were given this morning.’
He opened the file and began to read it.
‘I don’t think you realise the urgency of this case, Chief Inspector. If we don’t find Miss Cavendish soon, she will be murdered.’
‘And I don’t think you realise, Inspector, you have no evidence she has even gone missing, let alone been kidnapped.’
Danilov was still standing there.
‘You have your orders, Danilov. Do I need to repeat them?’
‘No, sir.’ Danilov turned on his heels. ‘Come on, Strachan, we have work to do.’