What people?
People on Facebook and Twitter. Theyre all saying it.
Facebook? Twitter? Sean asked. Its a wonder anyone gets any work done any more. Get hold of Donnelly and Sally for me. Get them back here for a briefing. Theyll need to know whats happening. Shit!
You reckon well get this one then, boss?
Does this look like a run-of-the-mill murder to you? Does this look like someone who intends to stop any time soon? Yeah. This ones coming our way. I can feel it.
Zukov knew hed used up his usefulness. Ill go track them down for you, boss.
You do that, Sean told him, watching him leave just as Detective Superintendent Featherstone entered the main office and headed his way carrying a pink cardboard folder the colour indicating the contents were confidential. Featherstone appeared to be his jovial self, despite the bad news Sean knew he carried tucked under his armpit. He knocked once on Seans doorframe before entering and taking a seat without being asked.
Morning, he began. Hows it going?
Fine so far, but Im guessing its about to change.
Hows the prep for the Allen case going?
Pretty much done, Sean told him, his eyes never leaving the pink folder. Down to the jury as to whether they believe he intended to kill the boy or whether they think it was an accident. Nothing more we can do now. The abductions and false imprisonments are beyond doubt.
Good, Featherstone answered, although he hadnt really been listening.
Sean nodded at the folder. Let me guess the banker who was murdered live on the Internet yesterday?
You heard then?
Only recently.
Featherstone tossed the folder across the desk. Courtesy of Mr Addis. Felt this was right up your street.
Thanks, Sean said without meaning it, pulling the file towards him and flipping it open to be greeted by a professional-looking photograph of the smiling victim. Not the usual holiday snap-shot. Someone important?
Paul Elkins, Featherstone explained. CEO of Fairfields Bank based in the City, so yes, hes both important and wealthy, or at least he was. If it hadnt been for the video on Your View and the rantings of the suspect I would have assumed it was a professional hit some Colombians or Russians making an example of him.
You have reason to believe he was laundering money for somebody he shouldnt have been messing with?
No, not yet, but itll need to be eliminated as a possible motive.
Of course, but
But what?
Youve seen the video looks more personal than professional.
There you go, Featherstone told him. I knew you were the right man for the job youre making inroads already. Featherstones smile was not returned. Anyway, he finishes work late yesterday afternoon and takes the tube home, shunning the use of a company chauffeur, as usual. Hes walking along the street where he lives in Chelsea when hes attacked from behind, apparently hit over the head several times and then dragged into a white van thats parked up next to the abduction site. The van takes off and not long after that hes live on Your View. As they say, the rest is history.
How do we know all this?
We have two witnesses who saw pretty much the whole thing a housekeeper on her way home and a neighbour who happened to be looking out of her window.
Sean scanned through the file, noting the details of the witnesses and the fact the victim had been hit over the head several times with something the neighbour described as a small, black bat. Looks like he used a cosh.
I reckon, Featherstone agreed.
Then hes definitely no professional.
How so?
Because a professional would have taken him out with one hit. This guys not done this before. Hes learning as he goes.
Which all fits with him being a disgruntled citizen with an axe to grind with bankers.
Well that narrows it down to just a few million suspects.
Indeed. Featherstone shrugged his shoulders and heaved himself out of the uncomfortable chair. Its all in the file what we know so far. Ill leave it with you and good luck. The Assistant Commissioner would of course appreciate a quick result medias already all over this one. He headed for the door before turning back. One more thing. Sean looked at him with suspicion. Mr Addis has decided hed like an old friend of yours on this one. Anna Ravenni-Ceron will be joining you shortly. Try to get on with her this time.
Sean swallowed hard, the excitement in his stomach unwelcome, but it was already too late. As much as he might object to the criminologist and psychiatrist being attached to his investigation, he could never deny his attraction to her or hers to him. He could almost smell her long dark hair and her soft skin, just as surely as if she was standing in the office next to him.
Ill try.
Assistant Commissioner Addis looked over the top of his spectacles at Anna, who sat on the opposite side of his oversized desk in his larger than normal office on the top floor of New Scotland Yard, his stare making her feel uncomfortable and disloyal.
You understand what I need you to do, yes? he asked her.
I understand.
Same as before. Watch him, study him, speak to him as much as you can without showing your hand and report directly back to me. In exchange you get unrestricted access to the investigation, including the chance to assist with any interviews with the suspect once hes apprehended, which Im sure with DI Corrigan in charge wont take too long.
Ill get as close as I can, she told him, but it wont be without the risk of DI Corrigan working out whats happening. Hes clever and instinctive. It wont be easy.
Youll find a way, Addis leered at her. I have every confidence in you.
She wondered if he knew somehow knew about that afternoon when Sean had visited her in her office in Swiss Cottage and theyd come so close to giving in to their desires and attraction for one another. But how could he? Then again, how did he know half the things he seemed to know?
Ill do what I can, she finally answered.
She felt him studying her for a while, searching for a weakness. You think Im being underhand in wanting him watched by someone from your profession? She said nothing. You see, Anna, Corrigan is an asset. No matter what you may think, I value him as such. But lets be honest with each other, hes not exactly conventional. Ive seen his type before the ones who need to be right on the edge all the time to get the best out of themselves. Trouble with being on the edge is youre more likely to fall. I want to see that coming before it happens with DI Corrigan. I have his best interests at heart here, which is why I value your professional opinion as a psychiatrist.
Of course. I understand. Anna didnt believe a word Addis was saying.
One thing about Corrigan that does concern me, Addis told her, is his compulsion to confront the suspects, once he has them cornered, so to speak. He seems determined to challenge them face-to-face, and alone. Any ideas as to why that could be?
Anna moved uncomfortably in her chair and cleared her throat. Was this Addis gathering evidence against Sean for some reason, or was he concerned Sean would do something to damage the reputation of the Metropolitan Police? The possibility that the Assistant Commissioner could be concerned for his officers welfare never crossed her mind.
Anna moved uncomfortably in her chair and cleared her throat. Was this Addis gathering evidence against Sean for some reason, or was he concerned Sean would do something to damage the reputation of the Metropolitan Police? The possibility that the Assistant Commissioner could be concerned for his officers welfare never crossed her mind.
Its a part of him he cant control. A recklessness that manifests itself in other ways too. She stopped, realizing shed probably said too much.
Other ways? Addis seized on it. Such as?
Such as he takes risks that others probably wouldnt, and he can be a little clumsy, socially. Can say things he immediately regrets or sometimes doesnt. She hoped Addis had bought it.
Addis said nothing for a while before grunting and shrugging his shoulders. Indeed. But why does he have this reckless need to be alone with the suspects at all? He was damn lucky Thomas Keller didnt blow his head off.
I think he needs it, Anna told him, trying to tell him the truth while also protecting Sean. To have a chance to talk alone with them, before the lawyers and procedure take over to speak with them in an undiluted way. So for a while he can observe and absorb everything about them while theyre still their true selves.
And why would he want to do that?
So next time, if he has to, he can become like them. You have to think like a criminal to catch a criminal. Isnt that what you police say?
Maybe twenty years ago, Addis scoffed.
Anna ignored him. Only with DI Corrigan the criminals are murderers. Psychopaths, sociopaths and sometimes just the mentally ill. It cant be easy, having to think like them. It must be a very dark and lonely place to be dont you think?
More silence from Addis before he spoke. Quite. And this time alone he craves with the suspects is an important part of him being able to think like them?
I believe so. He clearly learns from the encounters. I cant see him stopping, unless hes made to.
Theres no need for that just yet, Addis jumped in. Like I said hes a valuable asset to me. I wouldnt want to do anything to upset his modus operandi.
No, Anna agreed. I dont suppose you would.
Geoff Jackson sat on his swivel chair with his feet on his desk while he chewed his pen and twizzled an unlit cigarette in the other hand. Hed been staring at his screen all morning watching the footage of Paul Elkinss murder on Your View over and over again, oblivious to the constant clatter of voices and the ringing of phones in the huge office he sat at the centre of. As the crime editor for The World, the UKs bestselling newspaper, he could have had a private side office, but he liked to be in the middle of it it helped him think. He was forty-eight now and had been a journalist all his adult life. The silence of a private office would have driven him mad and he knew it. He also knew that the Your View murder was the biggest story out there and he was determined to make it his. He could smell the paperback already, maybe even a TV documentary. But first he needed to make his name and face synonymous with this murder and the other killings he was sure would follow.
Jackson sensed the editor close by before he saw her, leaping to his feet, his tallish body kept slim by smoking as often and as much as he could in this new non-smoking world, his accent-less voice made increasingly gravelly by the same addiction. Sue, he stopped her. Can I have a word?
Sue Dempsey rolled her blue eyes before speaking. What is it, Geoff? At five foot nine she was almost as tall as Jackson, with the same lithe body, her hair dyed ash blonde to hide the grey. At fifty-one she still turned heads.
The Your View murder I need you to hold the front page for me. Tomorrow and the days after that.
What? She almost laughed, walking away with Jackson in pursuit. You must be crazy.
I need this, Sue, Jackson all but pleaded, thinking of his above-average flat in Soho and the expensive thirty-two-year-old girlfriend he shared it with.
You know the score, Geoff. Everything has to be discussed and agreed in the editors meeting. I cant sanction anything alone, not in this day and age.
But you can back me up.
And why would I do that?
Because this story is the biggest thing out there. Its fucking huge.
Bigger than the terrorist attack in LA?
If it doesnt happen on our shores the readers soon lose interest you know that. This Your View thing could run and run. We need to make this story ours. This story needs to belong to The World. Dempsey stopped and turned to him. He felt her resolve weakening. The LA story will be dead news in a couple of days. I still have my contacts at the Yard. We could get the inside track. People are already talking about this guy as being some kind of avenging angel. We could even run our own public polls Do you agree with what the Your View Killer is doing or not? Its a winner, Sue. Im telling you, this is gonna be big. Remember no one believed me when I started digging up the dirt on our celebrity paedophile friends. Look how big that story got. Surely Im still owed a few favours.
I have to admit that was good work, Dempsey agreed.
It was better than good, Jackson argued. The cops didnt have a clue what was going on didnt believe what the parents of the children were telling them until I blew the lid off the whole ring. His expression of self-congratulation suddenly faded to something more serious, as if he was recalling a sad moment from his own life. I saved a lot of kids from suffering the same fate as the ones those bastards had already got their hands on.
Yes you did, Dempsey admitted. It was good work all around. All right, Geoff. All right, but no funny business. Keep it clean or it might be a journalist this madman comes after next.
And exclusivity, he almost talked over her. I get exclusivity. No other journos on the story. Just me.
Thinking ahead, Geoff?
I just want whats best for the paper.
Of course you do, she answered. Thats what we all want. OK. You have your exclusivity, but you better bring home the meat.
When have I ever not? he asked with a broadening smile.
Dont ask, she told him and began walk away before turning back to him. I noticed you still havent written the paperback about the celebrity paedophile ring. You usually turn the paperback around in a few weeks strike while the iron is hot and all that bollocks.
Not this time, he answered. As much as Id like to expose those slimy bastard celebs for everything they are, some things are still sacred. I wouldnt write about abused kids for money. Not my style.
Not going soft on me, are you, Geoff? Dempsey smiled and turned on her heels before he could answer.
Jackson made his way back to his desk whistling a happy little tune and wondering whether he should call his publishers now, whet their appetites, or wait until things had really brewed up. Until it was the only thing anyone was talking about.
Sean and Donnelly pulled up on the south side of Barnes Bridge in southwest London. The Marine Policing Unit had found a body floating in the Thames underneath the bridge, trapped by the whirlpool created by the current trying to find a way around. They climbed from their car and made their way to the small gathering of both uniformed and CID officers next to the bridge watching the police launch still trying to recover the forlorn body from behind the sanctuary of a small taped-off area of the pavement. Sean and Donnelly flashed their warrant cards to the uniformed officer guarding the small cordon and headed for the two men in suits.