My Bloody Valentine (Alastair Gunn) (31 page)

‘Well,’ she began buoyantly, ‘as you know, initially we thought the Judge was targeting ex-cons whose sentences had been shortened due to mitigating circumstances. Unfortunately, that line of inquiry led nowhere, because I realized that Samantha Philips’ case didn’t tally with the rest, and we were at a loss till this morning. Anyway, cutting a long story short, I now believe that all three of our victims were responsible for the death of an innocent party.’

‘Okay.’ Vaughn nodded, but his face showed none of the surprise or delight Hawkins had expected.

She pressed on. ‘You’re probably wondering how I’m going to prove that Brendan Marsh was innocent. But I don’t have to, because
he
wasn’t Philips’ innocent victim.’

‘Right.’ The DCS looked unimpressed. ‘You’re talking about the abortion.’

Hawkins felt her face sag. ‘Yes. How did you … ?’

‘Oh, you can’t have seen each other.’ Vaughn took a step towards the door, obviously aware that she’d exhausted her supply of pre-undermined revelations. ‘Steve told me ten minutes ago in the ops room. Perhaps you should do a course in inter-team communications?’
He winked. ‘Then you wouldn’t have to worry about anyone stealing your thunder.’

‘I’ll look into it.’ Hawkins crowbarred a smile on to her face as he squeezed past and left the room. She lowered herself carefully into the nearest chair and spent five minutes staring at the wall, trying to work out how a discovery she’d only just made could have found its way to Steve Tanner, and then on to Tristan Vaughn, in the time it had taken her and Mike to drive back from Bethnal Green. She came up with only one possibility.

She pulled the Airwave unit out of her bag, checking that all its various functions were turned off, cursing herself for resisting the new technology since it had been introduced almost a decade ago. Then she stood, resolving to organize a mobile for herself so she could bypass this new handset until she had mastered its treacherous ways.

But first she had a weasel to see.

52

Hawkins looked up from her email backlog in response to the staccato knock, but her office door was halfway open before she had the chance to invite entry.

‘You wanted to see me?’ Steve Tanner leaned in with a look of incredulity on his face, almost as if he thought the message she’d left with Frank, summoning him to her office on sight, had been some kind of joke.

‘Yes.’ She waved him in with the most convincing smile she could manage, conscious that this was the first contact between them since their unpleasant exchange on Tuesday morning, five days ago. For all its frustration, her seventy-two-hour incarceration at St Thomas’ Hospital had allowed them both time to reflect on what had been said. Hawkins’ temper had cooled – at least until she found out that Tanner had again beaten her to the DCS with a fresh revelation. But now she was more interested in
how
, rather than when, her adversary had come by the information. In truth, she’d rather not have spoken to him at all, but for now she was still his commanding officer, and ignoring this fact was only likely to assist him in changing it.

‘Will this take long?’ Tanner looked more self-assured than ever as he settled calmly in the chair opposite.

‘Hopefully
not.’ She noted that, behind the cockiness, Tanner’s expression was one of genuine curiosity. If she hadn’t known better, she might even have convinced herself he had nothing to hide.

She opened with a nonchalant tone. ‘Out of interest, do you use an Airwave handset?’

‘Doesn’t everyone these days?’ Tanner patted his inner pocket. ‘Why?’

‘Oh, I just got one; haven’t tamed it yet.’

‘They’re surprisingly useful once you learn how to handle them.’ The grin intensified. ‘I can show you, if it helps. Is that why you wanted to see me?’

‘No.’ Hawkins studied him. Did he know what she was about to ask, or had his comment been coincidence? She covered a scowl, opting to avoid direct accusation straight away. ‘We need to discuss the case. Have you made any progress?’

Tanner shrugged. ‘Plenty, thanks. You?’

‘Likewise. I just wondered if there was anything you’d like to share.’

‘I prefer to wait until I have something concrete.’

Hawkins fought rising irritation. ‘Look, I appreciate we haven’t exactly hit it off so far, but we still need to communicate. Otherwise, we’re giving this guy even greater scope to kill.’

‘Is that a bad thing?’ Tanner snorted. ‘No one would blame you for thinking this killer’s got a point. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if he took out a couple more before we tackle him.’

She
frowned. ‘Why would I think that?’

‘Well, his victims were hardly paragons of virtue.’

‘Perhaps not, but they all did their time.’

‘Come on, Antonia, you know as well as I do that jail isn’t the deterrent it used to be. Anyone who rattles a baby to death or mows someone down with their car and fucks off without calling for help should get a lot more than a few months inside. Not to mention your murderess.’

‘Are you saying they deserved to die?’

‘I’m saying it was still a life for a life in this country until 1965, and since they banned the death penalty the murder rate has doubled. There are plenty of people out there saying it’s time for a rethink. Maybe this guy’s just ahead of the curve.’

‘So we should all take to the streets with pitchforks?’

‘Hardly, but maybe we shouldn’t be surprised when people take matters into their own hands.’

‘It’s still vigilante justice.’

‘It’s natural law. If the powers that be don’t act, things balance themselves in the end.’

Hawkins turned away, realizing she wasn’t making any headway. The scary thing wasn’t just that someone with these views had already made it to such an influential rank but also that he had the momentum and drive to go higher, potentially into a position from which such opinions could filter back down.

‘Anyway’ – she changed tack, hoping to catch him off
guard – ‘I just spoke to the chief super. Apparently, you have new information regarding Operation Appeal.’

‘News travels fast.’

‘Yes, it does … So?’

‘Actually, I don’t feel like discussing it.’

‘Interesting.’ She leaned back in the chair, folding her arms. ‘I can understand why, having made your intentions so clear last week, you consider me the enemy. But, if and until you match or surpass my rank, I can make reasonable requests for you to explain your methods, especially when there are grounds for suspicion of misconduct.’ She paused to let the implication breathe. ‘And if you do have the DCS on side, even
he’ll
have trouble evading procedure if I write you up for insubordination. Whatever happens after that, the original black mark will stay on your record for good, and your sources will have to be revealed during the inquiry, so I’ll find out either way. It might be easier just to tell me, don’t you think?’

For the briefest moment, uncertainty entered Tanner’s expression, and then it was gone. But Hawkins had already seen it: the first tiny tremor in a hitherto unshakeable poise.

They sat in silence for a long moment, eyes locked, before Tanner caved. He explained slowly what she, and everybody else, it seemed, already knew about innocent victims and secret abortions.

‘And how did you come to discover this?’ she asked
when he’d finished, watching his face for signs of untruth.

He frowned. ‘Does it matter?’

‘That depends.’ Hawkins leaned forwards, linking her hands on the desk. ‘For now, I’m simply intrigued to know how you know.’

Tanner shifted in his chair. ‘I flexed a few rules. Don’t tell me you never do.’

‘Which rules, exactly?’

She had him cornered. He’d have to admit whatever trick he’d pulled with the Airwave unit to listen in to a senior officer’s conversation, and then that he’d tried to impress Vaughn by revealing her discovery before she had the chance.
Rookie mistake.

‘The guidelines governing requisition of hospital records.’

She blinked. ‘What?’

‘You wanted me to connect the three victims, so I asked a contact in the NHS to dig up their medical histories. I’m aware we’re supposed to submit request forms through official channels, but that can take days, and there are lives at stake.’

Hawkins felt her rage flip straight to embarrassment and muttered, more to herself, ‘That’s how you knew about the abortion.’

‘Yes. It meant all the victims had been responsible for killing innocent people. Frank tried to ring, but your mobile was off.’

‘It’s
broken.’ She breathed. ‘And then you saw Vaughn.’

‘Right.’ Tanner had obviously watched her crest fall. His bravado was back as he stood. ‘Maybe you should send out your Airwave number. You know, just in case.’

‘Yes,’ she said, hoping she wasn’t as red as she felt. ‘Maybe I should.’

53

Bull released the detector’s trigger and called up to Cheshire, a few feet in front. ‘Stop a minute.’

‘What?’ The kid turned, his boots crunching on the gritty track.

‘Stay still, man.’ Bull pointed at him, trying to tune into the sound. But as they stood there in silence, all he could make out were the swirling winds bouncing back and forth across the plain.

He breathed again, waving at Cheshire to carry on. ‘It’s nothing. Keep going.’

The kid smirked. ‘Ears playing tricks again, gramps?’

‘Fuck off.’

Cheshire turned back, carried on moving his detector from side to side, slow step after slow step, heading for the far end of the uphill track.

Bull watched him, checking he was doing it right. He shouldn’t have let the kid lead; the slow role up front was a lot more dangerous than the sweeper’s role behind. But he didn’t trust himself. His head was pounding, and the rising desert heat was only making things worse. He squinted up, checking the position of the sun through his
UV
shades. It was climbing fast and, although the temperature was probably still below thirty, in the coming hours it would hit forty-five.

Bull went back to sweeping, trying to estimate how much longer they’d need. They were about halfway between the Land Rover at the lower end of the field and the break in the Armco barriers on the road at the top of the slope. It had taken about thirty minutes to check half of one side, so another ninety to finish was about right, although they’d have to keep up their pace.

Suddenly his finger clicked off the trigger again, and he hissed at Cheshire. ‘Hey.’

The kid stopped and turned. ‘I hear it now.’

Bull nodded, listening hard, as the noise he thought he’d heard a moment before became unmistakable.

The distant sound of an engine.

He spun slowly, trying to work out which direction it was coming from, but it kept moving around in the wind. It was rare to see the enemy out on these roads, but then it was rare to see anyone at all. And there was no point lying down, trying to avoid being seen, because nobody would miss the Land Rover parked at the end of the track.

He was about to suggest they head back to the truck, but it was already too late. A black Toyota Hilux appeared around the bend to the south. For a second the sun reflected off its windscreen, stopping Bull seeing how many people were inside. If it was just one, they’d be okay. But as the truck turned down the slope towards them, he saw two figures in the cab and four more in the flatbed at the back.

He thought quickly, telling Cheshire, ‘Get on the verge.’

‘Eh?’

‘Move to the side of the track. Now.’

They both stepped carefully on to the scruffy edge of the trail, where the flattened earth of the makeshift road began to break up and become part of the field.

Bull rested the detector against his hip, freeing up both hands, one for the radio, the other for his gun. ‘Sierra three one to Charlie two one, come in.’

He released the button, dropping his arm to hide the handset, waiting for a response. But nothing came. Bad signal, out of range – who knew? He was about to try again when the Hilux turned across their position, allowing him to see that all the passengers were looking their way. The faces were Iraqi; now it was just a question of how friendly they were.

He held his breath as the vehicle got closer to the end of the track, willing it to move on. But the Hilux slowed and pulled on to the verge, next to their Land Rover. He watched the two guys in the cab check there was nobody in the other truck. Then the doors opened and all six men dropped on to the dusty ground between the vehicles. They all had guns.

‘Fuck.’ Cheshire said from behind.

‘Yeah.’ Bull didn’t turn.

They both knew who they were facing, which meant this situation had just gone properly sour.

54

The expensive-looking Audi was wrecked.

Hawkins watched the bashed-up coupé emerge, as the truck driver yanked its fitted car-cover away. The reason for the owner’s discretion became clearer still as the nearside flank was revealed. Hawkins read the word scrawled along the pale-silver panels of the dented passenger side, noting that, aside from the physical damage, writing ‘MURDERER’ along the side of this car would have taken a good few minutes. Admittedly, matching the handwriting was improbable, but they might still be able to identify the culprit.

She turned, checking the likely mounting points for cameras. Given any sense, a well-funded council like Clapham would have invested in CCTV, even on residential streets like this, especially so near the high street. They’d soon find out, anyway, because Hawkins had already requested continuous footage from every CCTV camera in a half-mile radius of each new potential target’s home.

If the killer was watching any of them, hopefully he’d have been caught on film.

She finished her sweep, relieved to find an electronic eye watching her from the top of a lamp post further
along the road. Beyond it, Amala Yasir was entering the far end of the street, returning from wherever she’d parked their car. Hawkins had jumped out when they’d arrived a few moments before, to save her having to walk. She hadn’t expected Amala to take quite so long to find a space, but neither had she anticipated such theatre outside the house they were visiting.