The Lucifer Network by Geoffrey Archer

to the tiled mantelpiece in their Fareham living room. A uniformed sailor with his self-conscious bride.
    Sam had managed to switch off those memories eventually and had dozed a little in the early hours, a light sleep quickly broken by an early Jumbo at 4.35. He’d got up soon after seven, pummelled his brain under the power jets in the gold-tapped shower cubicle, dressed in pale cotton trousers and a polo shirt, then breakfasted on fruit and scrambled eggs at the smoked-glass table in the marble-floored living room. The glitz of the place – he hated it. It wasn’t his style.
    When his father died he’d felt abandoned, left to the mercies of a bitter mother and an elder sister who despised boys – a sister whose attitude to him had changed littleover the years and whom he now had to visit. He’d rung her a few minutes ago to say he was going to be in the area and might drop in. Dead casual. No hint of why, on the basis that an enemy unprepared was easier to overcome.
    He packed an overnight bag, because he wasn’t sure where this delving into the past would lead him, and was on the point of setting off for Hampshire when the phone rang.
    â€˜â€™Lo?’ he grunted.
    â€˜Oh good. You’re back.’ A woman’s voice, strong and jolly, which he recognised immediately.
    â€˜Steph! How are you doing?’
    Stephanie Watson. A detective chief inspector with Special Branch, a woman who’d become as close to him as any female could expect to get, short of getting physically intimate.
    â€˜I’m doing well, thanks,’ she told him cheerily. ‘Ringing to ask if you fancied a game of tennis? Gerry’s away for a few days and I’m feeling frisky.’ Gerry was the new man she’d hitched up with a couple of months ago.
    â€˜Oh, Steph! Under normal circumstances I’d take huge pleasure in knocking you around the court, but unfortunately I can’t. Something’s come up.’
    â€˜Something to your taste? In a skirt?’
    â€˜Sadly not. Family problems.’
    â€˜Oh. Sorry.’
    â€˜Don’t be. It’s probably nothing. But I need to make sure.’
    â€˜Sounds intriguing.’ She was canny enough not to press for details.
    â€˜But later in the week perhaps?’ Sam checked. ‘Or maybe a lunch?’
    â€˜You’re joking! Don’t get time for a sandwich thesedays. But I could face a curry one evening. Midweek, say?’
    â€˜You mean Gerry’ll give you time off?’
    â€˜I told you. He’s away.’ The flatness in her voice made him wonder for a moment if ‘away’ meant her new man had walked out on her.
    â€˜A curry would be great,’ he told her. ‘Give you a ring in a couple of days?’
    â€˜I’ll look forward to it. Might even challenge you to a vindaloo.’
    â€˜No chance,’ he growled. ‘You know my preferences. A flaming arsehole cramps my style with the boys.’
    Stephanie laughed. ‘You’re so disgusting, you could be a copper. See you later in the week.’
    â€˜Bye.’
    He knew that in many ways Stephanie was precisely the sort of woman he ought to pick as a partner. She was clever, witty and level-headed. Their minds sparred beautifully, but they’d never clicked physically. For a woman she was on the stocky side and he liked them more girlish. Gerry, her new man and an Armed Response Team officer, was the right size for her. Six foot two with the build of a bouncer.
    Sam grabbed his mobile phone and his wallet. He went through the routine of monitoring the security camera, then let himself out of the flat. Down in the underground garage he noticed some of the light bulbs had failed, casting dark shadows amongst the line-up of German-made cars. He made a mental note to get the caretaker to fix them, then drove up the ramp and over Kew Bridge, heading for the M3 motorway.
    He had no clear plan for the day, apart from the need