of tension between the two Met officers, "the killer achieved the sense of omnipotence he was after through the overt mechanics of the crime: I mean the abduction of the victim, the restraining and the gagging, the rituals of burning and incising. But in this case, in Queen's Wood, those earlier behaviours weren't enough. Whatever he gained from the earlier crimes-let's continue to posit it was power-was denied to him with this one. That triggered a rage within him that he hasn't so far felt. And it was a rage that surprised him, I expect, since he's no doubt come up with an elaborate rationale for why he's been murdering these boys and rage has never come into the equation. But now he feels it because he's being thwarted in his desire for power, so he feels the full brunt of a sudden need to punish what he sees as defiance in his victim. This victim becomes responsible for not giving the killer what he's got from every other victim so far."
Robson had been looking at his notes as he spoke, but now he raised his head, as if needing to be told he could continue. Lynley said nothing. Hillier nodded curtly.
"So he turns to physical abuse with this boy," Robson said, "in advance of the killing. And he feels no remorse for the crime afterwards: The body's not laid out and arranged like an effigy. Instead, it's dumped. And it's placed where it might have been days before anyone stumbled upon it, so we can assume the killer's keeping watch over the investigation and making an effort now not only to leave no evidence at the scene but also to run no risk of being seen. I expect you've talked to him already. He knows you're closing in and he has no intention of giving you anything henceforth to connect him to the crime."
"Is that why there are no restraints this time round?" Lynley asked.
"I don't think so. Rather, prior to this particular murder, the killer thought he'd achieved the degree of omnipotence he's been seeking for most of his life. This delusional sense of power led him to believe he didn't even need to immobilize his next victim. But without the restraints, as things turned out, the boy fought him, and that required a personal means of dispatching him. So instead of the garrotte, the killer uses his hands. Only through this personal means can he regain the sense of power, the need for which motivates him to kill in the first place."
"Your conclusion, then?" Hillier asked.
"You're dealing with an inadequate personality. He's either dominated by others or he pictures himself as dominated by others. He has no idea how to get out of any situation in which he perceives himself as less powerful than the people round him, and he particularly has no idea how to get out of the situation he's currently in."
"The situation of the killing, you mean?" Hillier clarified.
"Oh no," Robson said. "He feels perfectly capable of leading the police on a merry chase when it comes to murder. But in his personal life, he's caught by something. And in such a way as to perceive no escape. This might be employment, a failing marriage, a parental relationship in which he has more responsibility than he likes, a parental relationship in which he has long been the underdog, some sort of financial failure he's hiding from a wife or life partner. That sort of thing."
"But you say he knows we're on to him?" Hillier said. "We've spoken to him? Been in touch in some way?"
Robson nodded. "Any one of those is possible," he said. "And this latest body, Superintendent?" This last he said to Lynley alone. "Everything about this body suggests you've come closer to the killer than you realise."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BARBARA HAVERS WATCHED AS BARRY MINSHALL-AKA Mr. Magic-closed up his stall in the alley. He took his time about it, every movement designed to communicate how much trouble the rozzers were causing him. Down came the display of saucy playthings, all of which had to be placed with undo gentleness in collapsible cardboard boxes that he kept stashed in a pile in a cubbyhole designed for this express purpose above the stall. Put away were the gag items in a similar fashion, as well as a number of the magic tricks. Every object had its particular storage spot, and Minshall made certain it was deposited there in an exact position known only to