‘We need the radiator fixing—’

‘I can’t be in two places at once,’ he replied. ‘There used to be three caretakers here. Now there’s only two. One man per shift. And every night I have to do everything –and all the time my pager going off like the bell on a bleeding ice-cream van.’

‘So come when you’re ready—’

‘Well, it’ll be when I’m ready, won’t it?’ he countered. ‘I’ll try and be up there in a hour or so.’

Irritated, Kim clicked the pager off and looked out of the nurses station window on to the ward. Everyone was quiet, only one female patient reading a book, her light making a moody puddle in the semi-dark. It was getting colder and – despite the administration memo warning against spiralling electricity costs – she turned on the second bar of the electric fire. All was silent and calm, she thought with relief. Eleven p.m.

Turning back to her notes, Kim was surprised when the caretaker suddenly walked in, tossing his bag down on to the floor.

‘Be quiet! You’ll wake the patients.’

Ignoring her, he walked over to the radiator and felt round the back. In silence, he took a key from his bag and stuck it into the release knob and a hissing sound emerged.

‘Oh, Christ! You’ve got a bleeding leak, as well,’ he said, his hand reaching under the radiator. ‘You never said anything about a leak.’

‘I didn’t know there was one,’ Karen replied. ‘The radiator wasn’t working—’

‘Well, it’s working now. And it’s leaking now,’ he replied, exasperated, as he knelt down. ‘Look at this,’ he told her, jerking his head towards the bottom of the radiator. ‘Look, see that? That’s water, that’s what that is. Pass me my bag.’ Impatiently, he rummaged through the contents, then took out a monkey wrench and handed the nurse a torch. ‘Hold that, will you? This shouldn’t take a minute.’

And as she did so a man passed, unseen, by the double doors of ward. Tentatively he paused, looking towards the nurses’ station and seeing that the nurse and caretaker were occupied, their stooped figures clearly visible in the bright office light. Beyond the station the rest of the ward was in darkness, even the reading light now turned off. Checking that no one was watching him, the man moved to the side rooms, checking the names on the three doors.

She had been sleeping, but Abigail’s eyes opened in panic as a hand suddenly covered her mouth, and a man – hardly discernible in the darkness – leant down over her.

‘Shut up!’

Terrified, she struggled, her screams muffled as he picked her up, finally losing consciousness as the chloroform took effect.

In silence, Emile Dwappa checked that the corridor was empty, then lifted her on to his shoulder and made for the back stairs only feet away. An instant later the exit door closed behind them, the nurse still talking in the room beyond.

53

London

After cleaning her teeth, Roma tucked her shirt into her skirt and brushed her hair, fixing it tightly into a ponytail at the back of her neck. Checking her reflection one last time, she left the Ladies and walked out into the corridor, heading towards the squad room.

As she entered, one of the older detectives, Jimmy Preston, stood up.

‘There’s been a woman snatched over at the Whitechapel Hospital. The officer in charge thought we should know.’

Roma frowned. ‘Why?’

‘The ward sister said that the woman’s called Abigail Harrop. She’s Ben Golding’s girlfriend.’

Behind them, Duncan rolled his eyes. ‘Bloody hell—’

Roma cut him off. ‘Does Golding know?’

Jimmy shrugged. ‘Dunno.’

‘Find out,’ she said, beckoning for Duncan to follow her into her office. Once there, she launched into him. ‘This feels wrong.’

‘What does?’

‘All of it! Everything to do with Ben Golding. His brother’s death – which he insists was murder – and Diego Martinez and Francis Asturias being killed. All of them involved with that skull. And now his partner’s been abducted. Come on, Duncan – it’s all related. It has to be.’ She paused, thinking aloud. ‘Martinez was murdered in London. Ben Golding found his brother’s body in Madrid, and Francis Asturias was killed at the Whitechapel Hospital. All places Golding could have been.’

‘You think he killed his own brother?’

‘I honestly don’t know,’ she said, shrugging. ‘Leon Golding was unbalanced – everyone said that, even Carlos Martinez. He told us that Diego found the Goya skull and gave it to Leon. An incredibly valuable artefact that everyone wanted. Then Leon was found dead—’

‘Because his brother killed him?’

‘He could have done. He knew Leon would trust him. He was the only person Leon would trust. He could have killed him.’

Duncan shook his head. ‘For what?’

‘The skull!’ she retorted. ‘Remember what we were told – it’s worth a fortune.’

‘But Golding’s a doctor. What would he want with it?’

‘Money?’

Duncan pulled a face. ‘Nah, I don’t believe it.’

‘All right, let’s take it step by step. Ben Golding was called in on the Diego Martinez murder to give his opinion on the surgery the head had undergone. What if he knew we would call him in? He’s the leading expert in London, so it would be natural to involve him. And, being involved, he would know everything that was going on with the case from the start.’

‘But we found his card in the victim’s pocket,’ Duncan said, ‘with Leon Golding’s mobile number on the back.’

Twisting her pen in her hands, Roma continued. ‘Ben Golding knew we would become involved after Leon’s death, because we’d eventually tie him to Diego Martinez and the skull. Remember how he denied knowing whose mobile number it was on the back of the card?’

‘But someone else could have planted that card to put suspicion on Ben Golding—’

‘Just go along with me for a minute, Duncan. Golding saw Francis Asturias’s reconstruction of Diego Martinez, but he said that he didn’t know the victim. Surely, if he was innocent, he would have admitted he knew him?’

‘But it was Leon who knew Diego Martinez, remember? Ben Golding hadn’t seen him for a long time.’

‘He’s not a stupid man, he would have remembered … And then there’s the Goya skull. Francis Asturias must have reconstructed it. He was the obvious choice. And then what happened? He was killed. And the last number listed on his phone records? Ben Golding.’

‘You really think a respected surgeon would kill for a skull?’

‘I don’t know,’ Roma admitted. ‘But I’ve been thinking about it for a while and wondering about the Golding brothers. We know Leon was unstable, but what about Ben? In comparison to his nervy brother he might seem very stable, but perhaps he’s not quite what we think he is.’

Duncan took in a slow breath. ‘All right, I hear what you’re saying … But now his girlfriend’s been abducted, and Golding’s out of the country. So it can’t be him.’

‘But is he out of the country?’ Roma queried, standing up. ‘I want you to get a file on Leon Golding. His life, how he died. I want to know everything about the man.’

‘We’ll have to go through the Spanish police—’

‘So do it!’ she snapped. ‘Leon Golding was an art historian. What was he working on? Find out. I want his notes, his computer documents—’

‘From Spain?’

‘Don’t argue with me, Duncan,’ she said wearily. ‘Just get the information. But keep it quiet. Jimmy can know, but no one outside the department, you hear me? No one is to know about this.’ She glanced at her watch hurriedly. ‘And find out about Ben Golding too. I want to know all there is to know about those two brothers. Everything.’

Duncan had been trying for nearly fifteen minutes to make himself understood by the Spanish police when Jimmy Preston came into the squad room and rescued him, gesturing to Duncan repeatedly until finally he covered the mouthpiece.