The silence that followed Dr. Reed's pronouncement was heavier and more profound than any that had come before. It filled the small study, thick with the horror of her words. DC Harris stared at her, his face ashen, all the colour drained from his cheeks.
"One person?" he finally choked out, his voice thin. "They want to do all of that… to one person? It's not possible."
"Oh, I assure you, it's very possible," Dr. Reed replied, her tone devoid of comfort, a simple statement of academic fact. "It's the logical endpoint of their entire project."
DI Miles Corbin felt as though the floor had dropped out from under him. He leaned against Arthur's desk for support, the polished mahogany cold against his hands. For a moment, the sheer scale of the evil they were facing threatened to paralyse him. Then, the detective in him took over, clawing its way back from the abyss. He pushed himself upright, his expression hardening into a mask of grim resolve.
He strode to a clear space on the wall, grabbing a marker. He drew a large, simple outline of a human figure. At the top, he wrote a single word: MASTERPIECE.
"Right," he said, his voice sharp, forcing the other two to look at him. "We can't afford to be horrified. We have to be pragmatic. If they are going to harvest all five traits from one person, then that person must possess all five traits to a degree of near-perfection." He turned to Reed. "Evelyn. Break it down for us. What does this person look like?"
Dr. Reed nodded, stepping forward into the role of profiler. "We're not looking for a normal citizen, Inspector. We're looking for a modern-day archetype. A polymath. A 'Renaissance Man' or Woman."
She began to list the attributes, pointing to the corresponding victim's photo as she spoke.
"They need the Perception of the Oculist's victim—so, someone with an artist's eye, a surgeon's insight, or a strategist's foresight.
"They need the Structure of the Architect's victim—a person in peak physical condition, an elite athlete, a dancer, someone whose body is a testament to discipline and form.
"They need the Instinct of the Pathfinder's victim—a survivor, someone resourceful, perhaps with military training or a history of navigating high-stakes situations.
"They need the powerful Identity of the Echo's victim—a strong public profile, someone who is well-known and whose sense of self is unshakeable.
"And finally," she gestured to Arthur's empty chair, "they need the Will of the Puppeteer's victim. Unbreakable mental fortitude. Legendary stubbornness. A leader."
Harris let out a low whistle. "Guv… a person like that doesn't exist. How do you search a database for 'archetypal willpower'? A decorated soldier isn't also an Olympic swimmer. A famous artist isn't also a FTSE 100 CEO. The criteria are contradictory."
He was right. The profile they had just built was that of a superhero, a mythological figure, not a person of flesh and blood. For a moment, a crushing sense of impossibility descended on the room. They knew what they were looking for, but the person themselves was a phantom.
Corbin stared at the list of impossible traits on the wall. A person like that doesn't exist. He thought about it from a criminal's perspective. Arrogance. Theatrics. Pride.
"You're right, Harris," he said slowly, a new thought taking shape. "A person like that is too perfect, too famous on a global scale. Too protected." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "So, what if the cabal isn't looking for someone who is all these things now, but someone who represents them for this area? The killers are based here. They operate here. They're arrogant. They would want their masterpiece to be a local jewel, the crowning glory of their Essex operation."
He walked over to the map of the county pinned to the wall and drew a thick circle around it.
"We're not looking for the most perfect person on Earth," he declared, his voice filled with a new, urgent purpose. "We're looking for the most famous, accomplished, and resilient person in Essex."
The impossible search suddenly had a boundary. It was still a monumental task, but it was a task.
Corbin turned to Harris, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made the young DC straighten up.
"Forget everything else," he commanded. "Get me a list. Start with politicians, celebrities, successful business leaders, retired military heroes with local ties. Find out who is the most impressive, most celebrated, most unbreakable person in this county."
He tapped the empty silhouette on the wall.
"That's who we have to save."