5

      Crane and Drake were issued with day passes at the reception desk by the entrance on Kingsway. The nervous young man stood wringing his hands while they were signed in before stepping forwards to lead them through the library to the lifts. As they rose through the building they were afforded a view down through the circular hoops of the staircase that wound around the central atrium.

      Doctor Janet Lempel, the faculty dean, was in her forties. Slim and keenly intelligent, she shook their hands and thanked her assistant before dismissing him. They followed her to a small office with a narrow window that offered a view of the dome of St Paul’s. The dean sat down and linked her fingers together on the desktop.

      ‘I understand this is a private investigation,’ she said, looking them over. ‘Why isn’t it being handled by the police?’

      ‘I can’t answer that,’ Crane said.

      ‘I suppose they have better things to do with their time.’

      ‘Most missing persons cases turn out to have a perfectly simple explanation,’ Drake offered. ‘People disappear of their own free will and come back when they are ready.’

      ‘Mr Drake is a former detective inspector with the Met,’ explained Crane.

      ‘Ah.’ The dean nodded. ‘I understand, but I’m still not sure how I can help.’

      ‘Our starting point is Howeida’s safety. It’s important that we form a picture of her. What kind of person she is, what her habits are. For that we need to speak to people who know her.’

      ‘I haven’t had much contact with her. I tend to be up to my neck in administrative tasks, but I do remember meeting her and being impressed by how single-minded she was. She’s doing a master’s degree and we are hoping she will carry on to do a doctorate. Certainly, I got the impression she wanted to make the most of her time here.’

      ‘At the LSE?’ Crane asked.

      ‘In London, in this country.’ The dean held her hands wide as if to emphasise her point. ‘Considering her background, I think it’s safe to assume she values her freedom.’

      The dean picked up her telephone and pressed a button. ‘After your call I took the liberty of trying to round up a few of her friends. They’re waiting for you.’

      There were three of them. All young women in their mid twenties. They occupied a table in the café in the plaza next to the library. Drake decided to take a backseat and let Crane handle things at this stage. The conversation was dominated by the odd one out of the trio. While the other two spoke in quiet, measured tones, it was the gregarious American who set herself up as the authority. Savannah was the only white girl out of the three. Skinny, with voluminous red hair that hung down over her shoulders. She shared a flat with Howeida.

      ‘Howie’s just awesome. And I mean, super intelligent.’

      ‘Howie, that’s what you call her?’ Crane glanced at the others.

      ‘That’s what I always call her. It’s just easier.’

      ‘Right.’

      While Savannah rushed on, the other two nodded and murmured monosyllabic responses but said little. When Crane tried to engage them they would demurely agree, giving way to another torrent of excited chatter from their self-appointed spokesperson.

      ‘I mean, I’m just a little old girl from Virginia, and then I meet her and she comes from this totally, like, medieval place where she can’t go out without a male cousin to chaperone her and she knows so much!’

      None of them had any idea of where Howeida might have gone, or why. She had simply vanished.

      ‘One day she was there and the next, she wasn’t. It’s so strange.’ The smaller of the other two was Adela. She had a round face framed by dark hair that made her resemble a cat.

      ‘You were hired by Marco?’ Crane detected a certain degree of suspicion in her tone.

      ‘Do you know him too?’

      Adela and the South Asian woman, Meena, exchanged looks.

      Crane smiled. ‘Whatever you tell us is confidential.’

      ‘We only met him a couple of times,’ said Adela, glancing at Savannah. ‘He’s a little older.’

      ‘A little?’ Meena blurted out, only to immediately fall silent again. Crane turned to her.

      ‘Did that make things uncomfortable?’

      ‘Not uncomfortable.’ She was struggling to find the words. ‘Just a bit awkward. I mean he was trying really hard to be nice, but too hard, you know?’

      Drake noticed how Savannah had fallen silent. They talked for a while longer but it was clear the girls were eager to get away, citing classes or assignments. Drake stepped in to take their contact details while Crane handed out business cards.

      ‘Please, if anything springs to mind, no matter how trivial, just give us a call.’

      ‘I always wondered what went on in places like this,’ said Drake once they were safely outside in the plaza behind the college.

      ‘We need to talk to them separately.’

      ‘Agreed. What did you make of the dean?’

      ‘She’s trying to protect herself.’ Crane nodded at the building behind them. ‘These places receive so much overseas sponsorship they are sensitive about bad publicity.’

      ‘Howeida’s background.’

      ‘Exactly. Our friend the dean is motivated less out of a concern for her safety than for the dent this might put in the university’s reputation. She doesn’t want to scare people off.’

      ‘Which explains her eagerness to cooperate. What did you make of the girls?’

      ‘A lot of animosity between them. We need to break them up.’

      ‘Agreed. You can have Miss Savannah all to yourself. Our Virginian friend.’

      ‘Thanks a lot.’ Crane looked up and down the street. ‘Not a bad place to be.’

      ‘You’re thinking of what the dean said, about this being an opportunity for Howeida?’

      They turned and began walking in the direction of The Strand. Students wandered by them going to and from lectures, meetings, lunch.

      ‘I wonder if there is anything to that, the idea of new found freedoms.’