Murder Path (Fallen Angels Book 3) (5 page)

He was into BDSM?  That’s where I remember him from.  He was in the club the night it was raided.  He was in a booth with a short, stout man and a tall, extremely lithe young brunette woman.  This doesn’t feel like the ‘Angels’.  That’s not what Eve and Adam are about.  They wanted to expose killers, yes, but not kill them.  Could this be something to do with the other man?  What did Eve call him?  The man who makes murderers?

‘While we are treating this as a ‘Fallen Angels’ reveal, we want to keep this one quiet for now.  Not only because we need to get more facts on the table, but also due to the high profile nature of the victim/potential murderer.  So no leaks at all people.’

That’s Laurent striding up to the front of the room.  He’s looking agitatedly excited.  Interesting.  Has he got the DNA results in?  If this was the Angels, there won’t be any DNA traces left, it’s not their style.  If it’s the other man?  Perhaps?  What about the victims?  He’s showing Cruikshank a sheet of paper, Jerry is leaning over it as well, they both look shocked.  Why?  What could be more shocking than what they are currently talking through?

‘Listen up people.  We have the DNA results back from the victims and also from a sample of blood and a hair that were found at the murder scene.  We can confirm that all thirteen limbs were indeed from the missing women, so can categorically conclude that we are dealing with another mass murderer.’

She is pausing and looking at Jerry.  Jerry is shaking his head in disbelief.  Why?

‘The DNA from the blood sample found at the crime scene has been matched to that of Rebecca Angus, the escaped mental patient.’

What!  No, that’s wrong.  Rebecca has been with me all the time.  That can’t be true.

‘The second DNA sample, from the hair we found, matches that of Detective Inspector John Saul.’              

I stare at the screen in utter astonishment, trying to absorb the words Cruickshank has just said.  My DNA.  My DNA at the murder scene.  Someone is setting us up.  Is this another fucking test?  Is this the Angels playing us again, seeing how we will react?  Or is this something different?

‘From this point forward, Angus and Saul are our prime suspects in this investigation.  GCHQ have also just provided Laurent with some interesting information.  They have seen chatter and searches on the internet to do with ‘Fallen Angels’, ‘John Saul’, ‘Rebecca Angus’, ‘Jessica Seymour’, ‘The Seymour Family’, along with a dozen other things related to the recent crimes we and DCI Strange have been investigating, all from the same IP address.  All from the same location.  All in the last hour.  That location is right here in the middle of Edinburgh, in St Giles apartments, off the Royal Mile.  We will be mobilising an Armed Response Team immediately.’

Shit.  That’s sooner than I thought.

‘Rebecca, they are onto us.  You need to start prepping for evacuation right now.’

Chapter 6

The sun slinks, midway through its afternoon descent, a vibrant suffusion of yellow mellowing in the pale blue, cloudless sky, setting life to the sandstone of the old buildings in the Royal Mile.  Shadows are starting to form on the right of the street, a little respite from the heat for the revellers and passers-by enjoying the many sideshows and entertainers of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.  The area outside St Giles Cathedral is cordoned off and a few Catholics are stood at the tape, placards hoisted high, still proclaiming the innocence of Archbishop Liam O’Driscoll. 

From Bank Street, the road just up from St Giles, intersecting the Royal Mile, the sound of screeching tyres bursts through the hubbub of the Fringe crowd, heads turning from the entertainment to see three police vans pull up outside a restaurant called ‘Angels With Bagpipes’.  Three doors slid open in unison on the sides of the vans and in convoy a stream of Armed Response Officers alight them, heading off down St Giles Street.

DCI Cruickshank jumped out of the front of the lead van as DCI Strange did likewise from the one behind.  Cruickshank strode toward him, walkie-talkie in hand, already sounding off orders to the gaggle of ARO’s.

‘Every exit covered, every street corner around the building manned.  An officer on the doors to each of the floors and two on the lifts.  I want four on the roof with eyes on everyone going in and out of the building.  One through six, you are frontline, up to floor five and wait for my command.  Everyone, on my mark, positions.  Go!’ 

*

An unnatural calmness pervaded the apartment as Rebecca quietly, yet stealthily moved around the living room, depositing various toys and pieces of equipment belonging to Jacob into a large plastic tub she held in her hands.  With ruthless efficiency, she had all of the loose accoutrements securely stowed in a few minutes and placed a lid on the tub, dropping it next to a large holdall bag by the front door: just as it opened and Saul walked in, his features agitated.

‘They are in the street already.  Have you got everything packed?’  Saul asked, quickly bending over to peck Jacob, who was sitting in his pushchair just inside the door, on the forehead. 

‘All done.  You just need to double check all the rooms and then do a door clear.  Then a bleach spray of everything.  Sorry John, I didn’t realise that they would be keeping an eye on what I would be searching for on the internet.’  Rebecca answered, not breaking stride or even looking at Saul as she rescanned the living room, eyes darting into every corner, making sure she had everything.

‘You don’t need to apologise.  There was always that chance.  But we’ve just got to follow the plan now.  It’s going to be tight though.’  Saul answered as he trotted over to the bedroom and started to check it. He knelt down and checked under the bed, then inside the cupboards and drawers.  Satisfied, he pulled the door closed, shouting ‘Clear’ then moved into the bathroom and repeated the same searches, the same door close and the same ‘Clear’, before turning back to the centre of the living room and scanning his circumference, Rebecca, in tandem, doing the same. 

‘All looks clear Rebecca.  You get yourself and Jacob out while I do a final bleach spray.  I’ll meet you at Dynamic Earth in ten minutes.  Just remember, they aren’t expecting an old woman with a young child in a pushchair.  Use that if they see you, play it up.’  Saul instructed, turning and looking at Rebecca for the first time since he entered the apartment:  looking at her blue rinse wig, her gaunt and lined features and at the classic Chanel two piece suit, Jaques Vert white blouse and the black LK Bennett sling back shoes she wore.  ‘You look good rocking an old woman.’ he finished, smiling nervously as he leant over and kissed her forehead gently.

‘Not half as good as you rocking the old fart get up.’ Rebecca answered, her tone just as worried.  ‘Hurry up and watch your back.’ she finished, heading towards the door, turning Jacob’s pushchair as she did, putting her left hand on the door handle and slowly turning it.

*

Six sets of black hobnail boots hammered in unison off the oak stairs, their deafening footfalls augmented and amplified in the confined stairwell as they ascended to the fifth floor.  Cruikshank’s patent leather brogues were drowned out in comparison, but her footfalls marched in time. Strange struggled to keep up. 

‘You might want to think about the noise a little.’ he wheezed after them.  ‘You could wake a bloody corpse.  I thought this was a stealth mission.  It’s about as stealthy as a hippo in a mud bath.’

Cruickshank, not breaking stride, looked back and glared at him with venom before arriving at the landing to the fifth floor, following her ARO’s into the carpeted corridor.  Strange was a few seconds behind and entered the corridor just as the first two ARO’s were getting a battering ram into position, the four other officers with their guns trained on the solid oak door.

‘Remember, we are dealing with potential murderers here.  Who knows how they will react to being confronted.  You have my authority to shoot to kill if you feel there is a threat to one of your colleagues.’  Cruikshank whispered with force, backing up against the wall a few feet down from the door.

Strange joined her, shaking his head disapprovingly as he listened to her last comment.  ‘Do you not think ‘shoot to wound’ would be a better policy in the circumstances?  We need them alive.  We need to find out what the hell is going on.’ 

Cruickshank turned towards him, her eyes fuming and her features furious. ‘My case Strange: I do it my way.  On my mark men, burst the door down.’ she added, not taking her challenging gaze off Strange.

‘NOW.’

*

Rebecca opened the solid oak front door and stepped out into the empty corridor, flashing Saul a concerned smile as she backed Jacob’s pushchair out, pulling the door closed after her.

Saul grabbed a large canister of bleach from a long aluminium and glass coffee table and started to spray it over every surface, wall, door and piece of furniture in the room.  He put a hand over his mouth and nose as a mist of the pungent gaseous liquid floated around the room, shafts of sunlight causing rainbows in the air as they refracted off the bleach.  He did the same in the three other rooms before depositing the empty container in the plastic tub by the front door. 

He then crossed the room to a full length window that looked out over another block of apartments across a narrow alleyway, a similar window exposing an empty room beyond, meeting his gaze.  He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a small, stained soft toy, Jacob’s favourite teddy, Ian Bear. 

‘You could have an important role to play in making sure Jacob is safe little feller, so be brave.’ Saul whispered softly as he gently positioned the bear on a small table next to the window, sitting looking out to the opposite apartment.

*

The solid oak door burst open into an empty room, a din of ‘Go, Go, Go’s!’ immediately following the resounding thud of the battering ram and the rip of metal as the locks were smashed from the frame.  The ARO’s swarmed into the room, guns enacting a stuttering dance as they were pointed into every corner of the empty space. 

‘Clear!’ Three shouted as Four, Five and Six quickly headed off to the side rooms, and with the deftness of ballet dancers, raised their legs in unison, mid stride, and simultaneously kicked the doors in, to another deafening din.  Three more ‘Clears!’ joined the still reverberating echoes of brute force, which slowly dissipated as the three men stepped back into the living room.

Cruickshank entered and looked at the obvious emptiness with features furrowed in frustration mixed with fury.  With deliberate steps, she started walking around the perimeter of the room, taking in every nuance, nook and cranny of the walls, floor and ceiling.

‘Spotless Strange, absolutely spotless.  Can you explain how that could be possible?  Could Saul be that calculating as to throw us on a wild goose chase?’  Cruikshank questioned with an undercurrent of sarcasm in her tone.

Strange walked through the centre of the room as the four ARO’s streamed out into the corridor behind him, heading for the window which overlooked Waverley Station and Princess Street beyond.  ‘He is the kind of character that will leave nothing to chance.  He likes to be in control.  He has an amazing memory, photographic I would say and will use that to work through likely ‘what-if’ scenarios.  What I can’t imagine is why he would feel the need to play this scenario:  what if the police were monitoring our internet feed and we needed to distract them while we made our getaway.’

Cruickshank entered the first door she came to on her methodical recce of the perimeter, entering and carrying on her analysis around the edge of the empty bedroom.  ‘For a person who is so in control, who has the foresight to plan something like this, I can’t see how he could be a victim, I can’t see how he would allow himself to become a victim.’  Cruikshank mused loudly, making sure Strange heard her from the bedroom.

Strange sighed heavily, his features disconsolate and disappointed at once, as he looked down to the floor, seeing a Wi-Fi router sitting in the corner of the room, at the apex of the window he was standing at, and the window facing the apartments opposite. ‘Just because he likes to be in control and likes to leave nothing to chance, doesn’t mean that he has always been able to do that.  When you have a child, and they have a serious illness, and you can do nothing about that illness, it changes you.  It changed John.  He wasn’t in control, and as much as he tried to get the best help for Jacob, everything about the illness was down to chance.  Sorry, I can’t believe that John was involved in starting a chain of events that led to his son and wife’s death.  As for what happened after that: I think he is trying to gain control.  I think he is trying to control chance.’

Cruickshank walked out of the bedroom and glared over to Strange, whose back was to her.  ‘You are going to need to break those rose tinted spectacles very quickly if you expect to be of any use to me.  Facts Strange, work with the facts.  Saul has led us to an empty apartment.  He has deflected us for god knows what reason.  Possibly so he and his mental sidekick can perpetrate another crime.’ she answered, her voice raised and still angry as she walked into the next room.

Strange looked up from the Wi-Fi router and out of the window to the apartments opposite.  There was an old, grey haired man in a stylish suit staring at him intently.  Strange approached the window and looked back at him, noticing his left arm was stretched out slightly, the index finger of the left hand pointing towards a small table.  He also noticed red scabbing on the top of the hand.  He immediately looked up to the old man’s face and saw that his lips were moving. 

‘We…do….’ Strange murmured, shaking his head slightly.  The old man repeated the phrase.  ‘We didn’t do it.’ Strange murmured again, his features filling with surprise as he mouthed silently, ‘John?’  The old man nodded, then emphasised his pointing.  Strange followed the arm and finger down to the table, to the small bear that sat staring back at him.  ‘Ian Bear?’ Strange mused quietly, a look of confusion on his features as he looked back up from the bear, to display that confusion to the old man: but the old man was gone.

‘Daydreaming out of the window is not going to get us anywhere.  Neither is your loyalty to Saul.  Start getting with the game plan Strange and acting like a DCI or I might just have to have a word with your Super.’  Cruickshank loudly admonished as she slowly strode around the wall and window, her compulsive walk being halted by the presence of Strange in her path. 

Strange faced up to her, his demeanour conciliatory, body language open, yet assured as he looked down to Cruikshank’s agitated expression.

‘Gaynor.  You will have to forgive me, I haven’t had the time to get fully up to speed with the events of last week, so I am behind the ball on the facts as they pertain to John.  What I do know is that all through the events at Featherstone Hall, all John was interested in, was finding out what was happening and more importantly, why.  He knew that there was evidence incriminating him and he brought most of it to my table.  From what I have seen so far of the happenings here this week, he has done the same with you.  He pointed you in the right direction on the reveals by the Fallen Angels and did warn you about your team.  I get that there is a large amount of incriminating evidence more than suggesting John and Rebecca’s involvement in this and I am not for one minute suggesting that isn’t the case.  But I have an open mind, not a locked and prejudiced mind.  Knowing John as I do, there is still a very big part of me -a very, very big part of me-, that thinks he is doing exactly the same as us: trying to figure out what the hell is going on.  And knowing John as I do, I can tell you right now, he will be doing a damn sight better job of it than we are!’