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Phiri’s coffee was notoriously strong and he only ever served it as he drank it – with three sugars and powdered milk.
    ‘You’ll have some, Faizal.’ It was not a question. It had taken Riedwaan twenty years with the police to learn which battles were worth fighting. This was not one of them and he accepted the cup without demur.
    Phiri opened the Manila folder in front of him. ‘I have an unusual request to make, Dr Hart,’ he said, steepling his fingers over the single page of spidery notes, the careful handwriting of a man who had started school at twelve.
    ‘You know about the policing cross-border cooperation agreement signed between the South African government and some of our neighbours?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Clare. ‘It was signed in April as I remember.’
    ‘Correct,’ said Phiri. ‘Extremely tricky negotiations, as you can imagine. Very often what South Africa offers regionally isseen as interference, domination even, rather than cooperation.’ Phiri looked pained at the thought.
    ‘The agreement focuses on terrorism and weapons of mass destruction and car hijacking syndicates, doesn’t it?’ asked Clare.
    ‘That and the upsurge of armed gangs. We know that increasing numbers of soldiers from our … how shall I put it … less affluent neighbours are moonlighting as hired guns in South Africa for cash-in-transit heists and armed bank robberies. So the South African Police Service is providing expert assistance to our neighbours’ developing police forces.’
    Clare looked from Phiri to Riedwaan. Riedwaan had just ventured his first sip of coffee and had a stricken look on his face. He was not going to be of any help.
    ‘That’s not my field of expertise at all,’ she said. ‘I specialise in head cases: psychological crimes, sexual murders in particular.’
    ‘I know,’ said Phiri, impatient at having his presentation speeded up. ‘That’s why I’ve called on you. One of the subclauses – 6.6 of the agreement if you want to read it – deals with unusual violent crimes. The current terminology for predatory sex crimes, serial rape or murder and unusual crimes against children.’
    ‘It excludes the more usual murders or assaults of children,’ Riedwaan added, ‘committed by their very own loving parents, teachers, relatives and—’
    Phiri cleared his throat. ‘Thank you, Faizal. It was the best that could be produced in a short period. At least we’ve something to work with.’
    ‘I do apologise, sir,’ said Riedwaan with just sufficient sincerity to pacify his boss.
    ‘As I was saying, Dr Hart,’ said Phiri, turning back to Clare, ‘section 6.6 deals with unusual violent crimes. As you know, fewof our neighbours have either the manpower or the scientific expertise to investigate crimes such as these. We’ve had our first request for assistance of this nature. I’m very keen that we’re successful with this particular case. It’ll go some way in showing that the agreement’s worth something and that we can provide a service beyond our borders.’
    ‘So what happened where?’ asked Clare. ‘And why me?’
    ‘We’ve had a request from the Namibian police, from Captain Tamar Damases of their Sexual Violence and Murder Unit. Faizal said she was keen that we ask you.’
    ‘Ask me what exactly?’ asked Clare.
    ‘That you go up to assist with an investigation. She thinks they need a profiler.’ Phiri picked up his rose-speckled cup and sipped and put it back on its saucer. The clatter was loud in the silence. He was the only policeman Clare knew who drank from a cup and saucer. His mother had given the set to him when he had been made a senior superintendent. She did not think it fitting that her only son should drink from the chipped assortment of mugs the rest of the force used.
    ‘I’m flattered that you asked me,’ Clare said into the silence that stretched between them. ‘But surely it’d be easier if someone employed by the police went up. Captain Faizal,