‘I am happy to help, so far as I can. I will do anything to get the child back. Her loss would be disastrous for the school. Most of our income comes from overseas children. It would be catastrophic if this situation were not resolved expediently and satisfactorily.’

Becky and Mann exchanged glances. The headmaster was not making the best of impressions.

‘Sometimes the child will tell us that they have been invited somewhere, then we ask for it to come in writing in some form or another—an email has become an acceptable method. If we do not know the person then the usual thing is for the housemistress or master to contact them to ensure that they are prepared to take full responsibility for the wellbeing of that child whilst they are off school grounds. If we are satisfied that all is in order we authorise.’

‘The child is collected from where? This office?’

‘No, not generally. Ordinarily, the child has been invited to go with another pupil and is simply picked up at the same time. It’s always on a Saturday after the matches and match teas are done. The children tend to gather in the various common rooms. Those that have an exeat get picked up from there.’

‘And in Amy’s case?’

‘The request came in email form. I have it here.’ He handed it to Mann. ‘I believe she received a text telling her to meet her host at the side entrance that leads to the car park.’

‘And in between those two things? Who phoned and checked this person out?’

‘I am afraid it wasn’t done. The housemistress forgot to do it. She has been having some personal problems recently and…’

‘So none of your staff got a look at the person?’

‘No. I’m afraid not. Can I just say that we have never encountered a problem of this type before. We would expect to be confident that the child was going home with someone they knew. Amy is twelve. We expect the child to be quite responsible by that age.’

Mann was not warming to Mr Roberts.

‘What would have been going on at the school at that time?’

‘It was Saturday afternoon so all the pupils would have finished morning lessons. They would have been either at sports matches—playing games against other schools—or unwinding in common rooms.’

‘Do you have a photo of Amy?’

‘Yes.’ Headmaster Roberts went to his desk, dug into a file, and produced one standard Christmas shot for the child to take home to the parents in the holidays. He also had one of her and the other four members of the school chess club. The third picture was of Amy holding a picture she had drawn. It had

runner up

written beneath it. She was short and square—a plain child with glasses and a mouth full of braces.

‘So, what kind of child would you say Amy is? Would she go with someone she didn’t know? Someone she didn’t feel comfortable with?’ asked Becky.

Mr Roberts screwed up his face ‘It’s always possible. She wasn’t so much of a loner, but she is self-contained—she is happy to go along with things. She is used to a system. She doesn’t often step outside that. She’s been boarding here since she was six. It was the first time she had ever had an exeat in all those years.’

They left the headmaster’s study and turned to walk down the long, straight, flagstone corridor that led through the two sets of fire doors to the side entrance and the visitors’ car park.

‘So this is where the girls saw her?’ asked Mann as they stopped just inside the side exit. ‘Strange that none of them got a good look at him. Did they say if he was English? Chinese? Did he have a beard? Was he bald?’

‘I’m afraid they didn’t take much notice. They were on their way to tea after a hard-fought netball match. They were hungry.’

‘Not the kind of child that stuck out then?’ Becky asked.

‘I suppose not, but she is a contented child—solid. She has her friends in the chess club. She is never alone for long.’

They moved outside to the top of the steps.

‘One last thing.’ Mann turned to Mr Roberts before leaving. ‘Have you heard of CK Leung?’

Mr Roberts shook his head. ‘We always dealt with Amy’s mother.’

‘Thought so…You’d have taken better care of his daughter if you had.’

17

They spent the afternoon at the office in south London. The building had been constructed in the sixties and hadn’t been refurbished properly since then. It was seriously jaded: polystyrene ceiling tiles on the linoleum flooring. It was a warren of small offices and long corridors.

Becky worked in a unit of ten. Her usual partner was Sergeant Jimmy Vance. He looked like a seventies cop: his hair was dangerously close to being a mullet, short on the top, long on the sides, and he wore brown slacks and a paisley shirt. There were sixty others in the SOCO department, most of whom were working on the kidnapping.

Superintendent Proctor called Mann into his office to welcome him and have a one-to-one. Proctor was a tall, long-legged man with a head of short-cropped wavy silver hair. He thanked Mann for coming and asked him to pull up a chair.

‘Sorry about the state of this place. We are waiting to be relocated to a purpose-built office a few miles away.’ He had a straight-talking Yorkshire accent. ‘We have assigned DC Becky Stamp to be your partner whilst you are here because we feel she has the insight into the case you are looking for. She was instrumental in finding out about the other kidnaps, befriending and liaising with the Chinese parents in those cases, and we are fortunate she managed to get the information she did—as you know, the Chinese community often chooses to keep itself to itself.’

‘I’m sure we will work well together. She seems very competent, thank you.’

‘We will be happy to cooperate with any line of inquiry you wish to pursue. Our sole aim is to get this girl back. We have allotted you an office, but basically we will meet here every morning and keep in touch by phone throughout the day. I don’t expect you to be here more than you have to, but I do expect to be kept informed night and day. I hear that you are a man who likes to do things his own way—I have no problem with that, so long as you run things past me first.’

Mann thanked Proctor for his support whilst thinking,

Don’t hold your breath. I’ll phone when I want

something—till then, don’t expect to see me.

Jimmy Vance was waiting for Mann in the corridor outside. He pulled him to one side and grinned at Mann.

‘Watch her—she doesn’t take prisoners.’

‘Thanks for the advice.’

‘Another thing…’ He leaned in to say what he had really come to say—the reason why he was waiting for Mann in the corridor. The smile disappeared. ‘…her husband, Alex, watch him. Becky knows how I feel about him—he’s a nasty bastard. He was done for GBH when he was young. Beat the other guy with an iron rod and almost killed him and it wasn’t for lack of trying, if you know what I mean. I wouldn’t put it past him to knock her about. She’s like so many strong women. She’s tough at work and soft at home…

Jimmy was all set to open the floodgates of information when Becky came looking for her new partner.

‘Not telling tales on me, are you, Jimmy?’

He held his hands up in a ‘Who me?’ gesture and grinned.

‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’ Jimmy stood and watched them leave.

‘He’s a nice guy,’ said Becky. ‘I am really fond of him but he doesn’t have a family, just a dog, and he has adopted me to worry about.’ She gave Mann a sidelong glance that said she could guess what Vance had said. ‘He really doesn’t like my husband.’

‘Really? He never said.’ Mann shook his head. They headed out towards the car park. By the time Mann got back to his accommodation at six he felt the jetlag hit. It was a beautiful Georgian terrace at the top of Highbury Fields. He thanked Becky for the lift and got out of the car.