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I smiled and said, “I was going to ask the same thing, but Detective Dehan is so much more direct and succinct.”

He leaned back in his chair and frowned. “And absolutely correct, of course. Which is why I have not called you into my main office in the Commons, but rather invited you to this far less formal, unofficial office. I certainly did not mean the invitation to be inappropriate in any way.”

“That’s good to hear. So how can we help you, Mr. Caulfield?”

“Well…” He nodded a few times with his fingers laced across his belly. “There are rumors going around Westminster that the murder of this poor girl might be linked somehow to an MP. If that were the case, clearly there would be a serious national security issue, and I am afraid the government is not always as forthcoming or transparent as it ought to be when it comes to sharing information with the opposition.”

Dehan frowned and suddenly grabbed her hair and tied it at the back of her neck, like she was sending it to the naughty mat. “I still don’t understand, Mr. Caulfield. I can see that the Home Secretary, or his aides, might have access to information about an ongoing investigation, but how would you be entitled to that information?”

He blinked again, several times, and almost looked embarrassed. Finally, he said, “If it were a matter of national security, then the shadow Home Secretary might be entitled to have sight of that information…”

I nodded, frowning like that made sense and putting him at his ease. “I am curious,” I said, “as to what makes you think there might be a national security issue in this case.”

Now he was on safer ground again. “Well, that is what I was hoping you would tell me, as everybody else seems to be very tight-lipped about it. All we are getting is rumors that Lord Chiddester’s daughter might have been involved with people who might have had ties with terrorists.”

I frowned deeper, like this was news to me. “May I ask you who suggested that idea to you?”

“I am not at liberty to say.”

Dehan laughed and shook her head. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You want us to share confidential information with you about an ongoing investigation, when we are only guests in this country, but you won’t tell us the source of your rumors?” She shrugged and spread her hands. “Forgive me but, what’s in it for us? Why would we play this game with you?”

He sighed. His face said he was regretting having called us. “Westminster is full of people who share information. Sometimes it’s to curry favor, sometimes it’s a trade, sometimes it’s a sale, for hard cash…” He paused, looking first at me and then at Dehan. “And sometimes it is out of loyalty and idealism. Even if I were to give you names, they would mean nothing to you. It is the vine, the bush telegraph of Westminster. All I can tell you is that, if the rumors are true, it would mean a very serious breach of security within the establishment.”

I leaned forward and put my elbows on my knees. Then I looked him squarely in the eye. “So you want to know if Katie Ellison was involved with somebody who posed a threat to British national security?”

His breathing quickened barely perceptibly. “Yes…”

“We haven’t found any indication of that, Mr. Caulfield. But I can tell you that I, personally, know who killed her, and why. And I am closing in on him. So be reassured, there is no threat to your national security, and her killer will soon be behind bars.” I glanced at my watch. “I’m afraid we have to go. You take care now.”

I stood and Dehan stood with me. He watched us and his jaw went slack. We crossed the room, gave him a nod and let ourselves out. I closed the door and his secretary looked up at us and smiled. “Leaving so soon?”

I nodded. “Yeah, you take it easy.”

I crossed the floor to the landing, then stopped like I’d forgotten something and crossed back to Caulfield’s office. His secretary half stood, looking alarmed. I frowned, shook my head at him and opened the door.

The white door behind Caulfield’s desk was open. Caulfield was standing, staring at me. His expression was one of anger. Opposite him was a slim, dark-haired man of about forty-eight, in a pinstriped suite. I nodded at Caulfield. “Sorry, I thought I forgot my hat, but I didn’t bring one.”

I closed the door and Dehan and I made our way down the stairs to the street. Once outside, it was good to feel the river breeze on my face in the muggy heat. Dehan stood, squinting up at me. “What was that about, Sensei? Going back like that?”

I looked up at the low ceiling of gray clouds, then frowned down at her. “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not sure.”

TWELVE

We were standing in the Victoria Tower Gardens, just beside the Houses of Parliament. We were leaning on the wall, in the shade of the giant chestnut trees, looking out over the Thames. Overhead, the seagulls had stopped laughing at me and instead seemed to be screaming, “Oh God!” to the heavens in their ugly, squawking voices.

“I noticed the door,” I said to Dehan. “The whole office was obviously improvised. That whole area: Little College Street, Great College Street, Cowley, Barton, they’re all given over to the use of back bench MPs, to run campaigns, meet delegations…”

She was nodding. “A spillover from the main government offices in the Houses of Parliament.”

“Exactly. He wanted to meet us unofficially, so it made sense to use an office one of his minions was probably using for something else. But it struck me when we went