2
Detective Superintendent Featherstone entered the main office of the Special Investigations Unit in New Scotland Yard and made his way to the goldfish bowl of a room that belonged to Detective Inspector Sean Corrigan. He opened the door without knocking and tossed a pink cardboard file marked confidential on to Corrigans desk to grab his attention. Sean flicked the file open before looking at Featherstone, whod slumped into the seat opposite clutching another pink folder, and then his eyes returned to the file where he was confronted by crime scene photographs of William Dalton his throat cut and face disfigured with dried blood congealed around his gaping mouth. He flicked through the first few photographs, making a special note of the victims hands, from which the fingernails had been removed, leaving behind bloody stumps. Sean winced and looked away for a second.
I hope he was dead before he had his nails pulled out, he said.
And before he had his teeth removed, Featherstone added, making Sean look up. The blood and swelling in and around his mouth was caused when our killer extracted some of his teeth using a combination of knife and, most probably, pliers too early to say for sure; nothing was found at the scene.
Sean nodded to show he understood. Who was he?
William Dalton, Featherstone answered. Eighteen years old, homeless and addicted to crack. Home was a disused garage in Mint Street, Southwark thats where he was killed. He sustained a significant injury to the back of his head, and then theres the damage caused by removal of the teeth and fingernails, but that wasnt what killed him. There were two distinct wounds to his neck and throat: his throat was cut straight through the trachea which wouldnt necessarily have killed him, but the second wound sliced open his carotid artery. He bled to death, or at least thats what it looks like. Wont know for sure until the post-mortem.
Again Sean looked down at the photographs and then to Featherstone. Unusual and significant injuries, he admitted, but why give Special Investigations the case? He could have been in debt to a particularly nasty drug dealer. Maybe they tortured him to find out if he had any drugs or cash hidden away. Teeth. Fingernails. All looks like torture. He didnt tell Featherstone about the images the crime scene photos had conjured up in his mind a madman stabbing and pulling at the victims teeth and nails, his face contorted with the effort, yet in control. Unafraid. Calm.
Firstly, Featherstone explained, Assistant Commissioner Addis is aware of the case and has insisted that you take it on. His apologies, by the way. Hes away at a conference in Bramshill, otherwise hed have briefed you in person.
And ?
And, Featherstone told him, leaning forward and tossing the other file on to his desk, this isnt his first kill.
Sean tentatively opened the new file and was again greeted by crime scene photographs: a young womans body lying on the wet ground behind a large wheelie bin. Other photographs showed close-ups of wounds similar to those William Dalton had suffered: teeth and fingernails traumatically removed. He also noted that her clothing appeared to have been pulled and torn and assumed the worst had happened, but again he said nothing, knowing that Featherstone would start talking soon enough.
Her name is Tanya Richards, Featherstone obliged. Twenty-three years old. A known prostitute. Ran away to the big smoke from some shithole in the Midlands a few years ago. Soon discovered the streets arent paved with gold and started using heroin. Prostitution paid for the drugs. Not an unfamiliar tale.
Sean acknowledged this with a nod.
Her body was found not far from where she lived, Featherstone continued. She had a room in a dump of a flat in Roden Street, Holloway. When she wasnt there she was working the streets around Smithfield Market during the night looking for punters. He left plenty of DNA, only its not on file, so looks like he has no previous.
Could the DNA be from a punter? Sean asked.
Unlikely, Featherstone answered. Looks like she was on her way to work when she was attacked. Judging by the contents of her handbag, she was careful.
Condoms? Sean guessed. Yeah, Featherstone confirmed, and plenty of them. Also we found semen smeared on her abdomen that matches that found inside her, so everything points to it being the killers. Featherstone shook his head. Strange thing to do wipe himself off on her belly.
He was marking her, Sean said before he could stop himself drawing a concerned look from Featherstone. Raping and killing her wasnt enough, he tried to explain. He wanted to mark her.
Why? Featherstone asked.
That, Sean answered, I dont know yet. He turned his gaze back to the photographs, wishing he could be alone without being disturbed by Featherstones clumsy observations. His understanding of this killer was coming together faster than in any of his previous cases, as if the year-long gap since his last significant investigation had sharpened his instincts and senses. He needed this killer more than any of his team could possibly understand.
While his mind was engaged with the faceless killer whod turned his fantasies into reality, using the helpless Tanya Richards as a conduit for his warped desire, Sean threw out a question to keep Featherstone occupied: Was the same knife used on both victims?
Hard to say, Featherstone admitted, inhaling deeply before continuing. Neither victim was stabbed slashed, but not stabbed. Makes it difficult to be certain. Maybe the post-mortem will help.
Sean started flicking through the file with an increased sense of urgency. Something told him every second could be vital. When was she killed?
More bad news, Im afraid, Featherstone answered. Only ten days ago. This ones not a once-a-year killer, Sean. Hes running hot.
I didnt hear anything, Sean told him. Didnt see anything on the news.
A prostitute and heroin addict murdered in London, Featherstone explained with a shrug. Not exactly front-page material. The first murder got a mention on the local news nothing more. Theyll be all over it now though, thats for bloody sure.
But the fingernails and the teeth, Sean frowned, that must have got the interest of the media?
Ah. Featherstone cocked his head to one side. Would have, only the MIT who picked up the Richards case had the good sense not to mention the fact shed had her nails removed. They let on some of her teeth had been pulled out, but kept quiet about the nails.
To eliminate nuisance callers claiming responsibility, Sean said.
Exactly, Featherstone confirmed. Had we let it be known her nails were removed too, the better crime journalists out there might have started getting suspicious. The MIT reckoned they could explain the teeth away as a pissed-off pimp pulling out her gold teeth for their cash value.
Sensible, Sean appreciated their thinking, but why mention either?
Trying to drum up some sympathy, Featherstone explained. Not easy getting the media interested in a dead prostitute, or the general public for that matter. It was hoped that by making it clear she suffered, we could tug on a few more heartstrings loosen a few lips.
Doesnt seem to have worked, Sean replied.
No, Featherstone admitted, sounding sad and worn out by yet another violent death few would care about.
Both men were silent for a while before Sean spoke again. Unusual, he said. Looks like it has to be the same killer, yet we have a male and a female victim. So, unless hes bisexual, the motivation cant be entirely sexual, despite the fact the female victim was raped.
Dalton doesnt seem to have been sexually assaulted in any way, Featherstone added, but again, its too early to say for sure.
So whats his motivation? Sean directed the question at himself rather than Featherstone. If killing is his motivation, then hes a very dangerous and rare animal. A killer who kills because he likes it rather than to cover his tracks or out of panic thats about as bad as it gets.
Rare like Sebastian Gibran? Featherstone asked, dragging a ghost from the past into the small, warm office. Remember him?
Im not likely to forget him, am I? Sean sighed, memories of the most dangerous killer hed ever dealt with swarming into his mind.
He was something else though, wasnt he? Featherstone reminded them both. Pure bloody evil, that one.
Evil? Sean answered. Not sure that exists. He was just wired differently.
You mean wired wrongly? Featherstone checked.
Sean ignored the question. He had everything anyone could ever want, but it wasnt enough. Killing made him feel like he was some sort of god that taking life was his entitlement.
Do you think we could have another Sebastian Gibran here? Featherstone sounded concerned. The last thing we need is another Gibran on the loose.
I doubt it, Sean reassured him. Gibran was exceptional. A one-off. This ones profile should be more straightforward. Gibran constantly changed his method so we wouldnt make a link. This one has varied the sex of his victims, but hes already showing a strong dedication to a particular method. And taking the teeth and fingernails almost certainly souvenirs. Gibran only took memories. He glanced down at the files on his desk, the brutal crime scene photographs staring back at him. All the same, we have a very dangerous individual on our hands. He drew a breath. Ten days between the murders?
Thats right, Featherstone confirmed.
Not good, Sean replied, shaking his head. He chewed his bottom lip, deep in thought for a few seconds before continuing. Maybe well get lucky. Maybe hell slow down for a while use his souvenirs to relive the killings keep his urges at bay. The image of a faceless man touching, smelling, tasting the extracted teeth and fingernails flashed in his mind.
You dont really believe that, do you?
Sean shrugged.
Anyway, Featherstone tried to look on the bright side, itll be good to have a proper Special Investigations case again. Cant have been much fun, being loaned out to other MITs these last few months.
Dont forget Anti-Terrorist, Special Branch and anyone else who was short of manpower, Sean reminded him.
Indeed, Featherstone agreed. Nothing Addis could do to stop that happening. Cant justify detectives sitting on their backsides doing nothing, not in this day and age.
No, Sean admitted. I suppose not.
Still, Featherstone perked up again. Your units back now with a proper investigation.
So it would appear, Sean said, but without any cheer, although inside he felt himself coming to life adrenalin and ideas, memories and anticipation beginning to flow through his body, sparking the darkest areas of his being that had lain dormant for months. Dark areas that he knew were dangerous to him and everything hed achieved in his life, just as he knew that the answers tended to lie hidden in that darkness. Answers that could help him catch a killer before he claimed more lives.
Speaking of investigations Featherstone appeared to change tack, you should know that this will be my last.
Sean leaned back in his chair. Oh, he managed to say. He liked and trusted Featherstone. With him gone, there would be no protective buffer between him and Addis. Worse still, Addis could put someone else in charge of overseeing Sean and his team. Addiss own man or woman. His own gamekeeper. How so?
Time for me to call it a day, Sean, he told him. Ive done more than my thirty years. Could have gone a couple of years ago. Was clinging on in the hope of making it to Commander, but its pretty clear thats not going to happen. Every time it looks like it might, I get passed over by some graduate on accelerated promotion. Who gives a fuck if they dont know their arses from their elbows, right?
Will you be replaced? Sean asked.
You mean will you get a new boss? Featherstone smiled, sensing Seans concern. Who knows? Thats Addiss call.
Great, Sean moaned.
Youll survive, Featherstone assured him. They were silent for a while before he spoke again. I was meaning to ask: hows DS Donnelly getting on?
Dave? Sean asked, confused.
Since the shooting, Featherstone added. Not an easy thing to take a life.
If he hadnt shot Goldsboro, Sean reminded him, Goldsboro would have shot me. Daves got nothing to feel guilty about.
We dont all process these things the same way, Featherstone told him. We dont all have your clarity of thought.
Sean knew what he meant: if it had been Sean whod pulled the trigger and killed Jeremy Goldsboro the suspect in their last major investigation he would have felt no guilt. It would simply have been something he had to do. Well, the inquiry concluded it was a justifiable shooting. I think weve all moved on.
Good, Featherstone replied, though he seemed less than convinced. Well, speaking of moving on, he added, getting to his feet, time I wasnt here. Good luck with this one.
Thanks, Sean replied.
Oh, one last thing, Featherstone turned at the door. Addis wants Anna Ravenni-Ceron to work alongside you on this one. Given the nature of the killings, he feels the input of a psychiatrist would be useful. Since youve worked with her before, he thought best to stick with her.
Sean felt an instant stab in the heart and a tightening in his stomach. Hed barely seen her in over a year, but his feelings about Anna remained confused. The only stability in his life came from his family and his job. Anna was a threat to both. Fine, he answered without elaborating.
Regular updates would be appreciated, Featherstone told him as he left. And watch out for the press.
Seans eyes followed Featherstone across the main office and through the exit before he took a single photo from each file and slumped back in his chair looking from victim to victim. The more he looked, the more he was sure the killers motivation was the act of killing. For some reason he felt compelled to kill.
Again Sean found his thoughts turning to Sebastian Gibran. He threw the photographs back on to his desk and cursed under his breath. Shit.
David Langley sat at his desk in the managers office of the Wandsworth branch of Harpers Furniture store. Forty-two years old, six foot tall and muscular, he looked fit, tanned and handsome in an everyday way, short brown hair pushed back from his face to show off his deep green eyes. The office was hidden away from the customers who patrolled the showroom outside looking for bargains in the seemingly never-ending All must go! sale, the office was crammed with cheap, utilitarian furniture, filing cabinets and computer equipment. The Christmas decorations had been removed from the showroom on 2 January, but a few tattered and depressing remnants still hung in the office.