After dropping Saoirse off at the London Met, Simon and Ralph spent half the day staking out the flat, waiting for Marcus to return. Flemming and Heart were busy tracing Marcus’ family for more information, but a phone call in the afternoon brought no new intelligence. The parents were long dead from cancer and his professors at university merely confirmed that Marcus was a quiet but rather smart young man who hadn’t been in class in a few months.
“Being a psychopathic killer takes time,” Ralph commented without humour, “just like any hobby. I imagine he’s had to skip a few classes.”
Simon would have liked to apologize for what had happened the previous night, but somehow he couldn’t find words. He would also have liked to explain to Ralph how strangely at ease he felt in his presence, a
