‘Yeah,’ replied Stacey. ‘Full of leisure. I picked the wrong job, didn’t I?’

‘But you love your job. How is the case going?’

‘I didn’t think you had taken me out to dinner in order to talk shop. Anyway, part of the reason I came out with you is because I need to take my mind off of it all. It’s pretty full on at the moment.’

‘I can imagine. Any sign of Pat?’

‘Who?

‘Patrick O’Neill, your missing officer. The one working with CEOP.’

‘Do you know him?’

‘Not really, but our paths crossed once upon a time, a while back.’

‘Right. No, not a peep. Poor guy. My heart really goes out to him. It’s like half the force is looking for him. But no one has a clue where he might be. You’ve read the transcripts?’

‘Oh, yes. Impressive stuff. We’re dealing with someone with a high level of intelligence, very slick. First class in fact. I have no doubt it’s the same person that your team are looking for. I’m so glad I’m involved in the case. So much more exciting when you’ve got access to the inside info. Especially when you’re facing someone in the psychopathic equivalent of the premier league.’

‘Steady on. You sound like you’re verging on admiration.’

‘Maybe I am. Let’s face it: the vast majority of criminals out there are stupid. Really stupid. That’s why they get caught. They don’t plan, they overlook the obvious, they get overly confident. You get a case like this, where someone has been active for years and never so much as shown up on the radar, I can’t help but feel a certain sense of awe.’

‘So I see.’

‘Sorry. It’s just that I live for this stuff, I really do. The whole cat-and-mouse thing, it’s such a buzz. This is like a chess game. You don’t want to play against someone who is useless – it’s over much too quickly. You want someone who challenges you, makes you think. I’ve actually written my own computer program that compares and contrasts types of activity. It’s fascinating, especially when you look at the guys at the top. If I were going to be a criminal, that’s the sort of criminal I’d want to be. An artist, not a hack. There’s a lot of scum out there, Stacey, a lot of losers; some people don’t even deserve to live at all, let alone prosper. The thing about your job is that most of the time you’re scooping up the stuff that floats to the top; the real geniuses always keep their heads down. A lion attacks the sick and weak from the herd and what is left is stronger, more efficient; in the same way every two-bit killer you arrest leaves a more sophisticated, slicker pool of criminals behind.’

‘I hadn’t thought about it like that. You saying I should give it up? Leave it to the vigilantes?’

‘Why not? You’ll never eliminate crime completely. All you can do is try to keep a lid on it. And for your own sanity, try to work only on the cases where your opponent’s skills are a match for your own. You have many great skills, Stacey. I can tell. You may be closer to cracking this case than you know.’

They smiled at each other again as they lifted their glasses in unison and took deep sips of their wine. There was something tangible in the air between them. You could almost feel the electricity.

Stacey looked directly into Jacques’s eyes and smiled again, toying with her wine glass.

‘I think I need to say something. If we decide to take this any further, it has to be on my terms.’

‘And what terms are those?’

‘I’m not looking for anything serious. My life is complicated enough. I don’t need someone to come along and fuck things up for me; I can do that myself.’

‘Carrying a little baggage, are we?’

‘Don’t even go there, Mr Bigshot Psychologist. We take this one night at a time.’

Jacques nodded thoughtfully. ‘Okay, then that leaves only one question for me to ask.’

‘What?’

‘Do we go to your place or mine?’

Home for Dr Jacques Bernard during his stay in the UK was an executive apartment just off the Strand in a plush block reserved exclusively for professors and wealthy postgraduate students of the university.

Stacey’s heart had sunk when he first mentioned that he had been assigned student accommodation, but it quickly turned out that the place was more than pleasant enough. It was a comfortable studio flat decorated in a modest but cosy manner.

A slightly smaller-than-average double bed was up against one wall. Across from that there was a tiled area with a sink and tiny cooking unit. A small area in the centre served as the living room, complete with a two-seater sofa and a folding wooden table with a couple of chairs.

Two of the four walls were lined floor to ceiling with more books than Stacey had ever seen in her entire life. She stood, awestruck, casting her eye along row after row of volumes. There were dozens of books on psychology and forensics, of course, but also dozens more on the law, computing, history, chemistry, mathematics and philosophy. A whole curriculum’s worth of knowledge. ‘Have you read all these?’ she asked, almost absent-mindedly.

‘What’s the point in having shelves full of books that you’ve read?’ replied Jacques with a grin. ‘I hope to read them all one day. In the meantime, they are just there to make the shelves look good.’

He began inching closer to her. She stood in the centre of the room, facing him as his eyes bored into her. In an instant his arm was round her waist and he was pulling her towards him. His other hand moved to the side of her face, smoothing down her hair. She buried her head in the side of his neck, enjoying the tickling sensation of his moustache against her cheek. She could feel his heart beating against hers. She gave a soft moan and then used both her hands to draw his face towards hers. They kissed. It was a long, passionate kiss, and when they broke apart she had to gasp for breath.

He sank to his knees, pressing his face into her chest, into her belly. She looked down to see his delicate mop of brown hair moving across her torso. A sense of ease slowly washed over her.

He deftly removed her top and his mouth moved up to caress the space between her nipples. His fingers spread wide and felt good against the cold skin of her back. A thumb slid back and forth slowly across one of her shoulder blades.

He pushed her back against the edge of the small bed and they fell on to it as one, sinking slowly into glorious oblivion.

She awoke in the morning alone in the bed. A delicious smell was hanging in the air – a mixture of coffee and something sweet. She pushed herself up on her elbows and saw Jacques sitting at the small desk at the end of the bed. He was completely naked apart from a pair of boxer shorts, his legs crossed, staring intently at the screen of his laptop.

‘Good morning,’ she said softly.

In one seamless movement Jacques turned to face her and eased down the lid of the computer, switching off the screen but keeping the machine itself running. In that split second Stacey had caught a glimpse of what had been on the display – a series of windows with dozens of short lines of writing on the left-hand side of the largest box. Her brow curled into a frown as she looked across.

‘Just catching up on work emails,’ he said with a grin as he stood up and walked towards her. ‘I’ve made coffee and I’m warming some croissants. How many would you like?’

‘I thought you’d be having a lie-in.’

‘Didn’t seem fair when you have to get up. Besides, I wanted to make you breakfast.’

Up until then there had been no awkwardness, nothing uncomfortable. But all of a sudden Stacey felt incredibly vulnerable. Sex, especially with the best part of a bottle of wine inside her, was one thing, but sitting and having a cosy breakfast, that was true intimacy. She didn’t feel ready for that. She knew she had to get away.

‘Thanks, but it’s getting late. I’d better get going. I’ll grab something on the way.’