The Sect (The Craig Crime Series) (6 page)

“None. I fingerprinted the first two and ran them through the database but there was nothing.”

Craig thought for a moment then turned to Liam.

“Liam, check with the street patrols. If our victims were on the streets or runaways they might recognise their photographs.”

He saw the others’ confused looks and realised that he hadn’t covered the most basic points.

“Sorry everyone, I should have said; the girl was an IV drug user and we think she might have been a sex worker as well. She had needle tracks and HIV and there were also signs of old abuse.”

Annette interrupted. “Old abuse might mean she was known to social services. We should show them her photograph. And the local HIV clinics might know her.”

“Good thinking. Davy, do that, please. In fact send all the victims’ photos to social services, just in case. We’ll try everything we can locally to I.D. them but we think the girl may have been from Eastern Europe.”

He outlined his thoughts on trafficking and Nicky screwed up her face in disgust.

“They should be shot.”

“No argument on that.” He nodded at Carmen. “Carmen’s liaising with D.C.I. Hughes on the trafficking and Geoff Hamill will update us on any gangs.”

Liam swallowed his tea so fast it went down the wrong way and he practically coughed out, “Drugs.”

John was quick to retort. “You want some or you think someone should be looking into who supplied her?”

Liam recovered. “Supply. And I do the jokes around here.”

Craig wrote it on the board. “Drug supply, very good. Carmen, see if Aidan knows anything on that, and Liam, pick it up with Karl Rimmins.”

Rimmins was a rising star in the Drugs Squad. At twenty-seven he was already a sergeant in an area of policing where it was notoriously hard to survive, never mind get to the top. He was bright but he also had a biological advantage over his peers; Karl’s dark and dangerous looks suited the drug underworld almost too well. When they’d first met him in 2012 he’d played the hardened narc self-consciously, but the years had sharpened his glance and now the look in his eyes wore him. Craig hoped the world he policed didn’t drag him down but he wouldn’t have been the first officer to go astray.

Jake cut across Craig’s thoughts. “If the girl was a prostitute and a user, did you find anything similar on the first boy?”

Mike answered him. “When we found the tattoo on both of them we wondered what else they might have in common so we looked for signs of prostitution and drug use on the lad, but there was nothing. Although…”

He handed over to John.

“There was no sign of recent sex on either body but there
were
signs of past anal penetration with the boy, most likely consensual and in the past couple of years. He looks late teens so probably just after he’d reached the age of consent, but he’d also been abused post-mortem with…”

Craig raised a hand to halt him. “Just before John elaborates, this is a murky case and likely to get even more so. What you’re about to hear is hard core, so be warned.”

He glanced at Nicky and she opted out gratefully, leaving someone else to minute the meeting as she headed for the canteen. When she was safely through the double-doors John elaborated, describing in graphic detail the abuse carried out on their first John Doe and the injuries that it had caused.

“In your pack you’ll see photographs of his internal and external anal injuries. The minor internal abrasions were most likely from consensual sex, the major tears weren’t, but thankfully they were made after death. There’s also a photograph of the object that caused them; it was left with the body after death.”

Ken had said nothing since the start of the briefing, just nodded quietly and taken notes. Now he gasped. But it wasn’t a gasp of horror; it was a gasp that said he’d seen this before. Craig seized on it.

“You’ve seen this elsewhere?”

“When I was posted to the Middle-East.” Ken had travelled a lot of the world with his job. “It was administered as a punishment for homosexuality in some religious countries where it was taboo. Sometimes to elicit a confession as well. But the victims were always alive when it happened.”

John leaned forward eagerly. “Did they use the same type of instrument?”

Ken shook his head. “They used increasingly large objects, but it had the same effect.”

Craig’s heart sank at the mention of religion and punishment; men too often twisted belief to suit their own ends. He doubted that their killer was on God’s side, but with the bodies’ washing possibly meaning purification, some warped religious sect could feasibly be part of their case.

“Thanks, Ken. Mike, any other similarities between the victims? Apart from the bleach and the P.M. tattoo?”

Augustus shook his head and then added. “But we’re waiting for the tox-screens on all three.”

After a moment when no-one added anything Craig summed up.

“OK, we have a third victim, found a few hours ago. Another young male. Let’s see what he brings. Meanwhile, Davy – you lead on the I.D.s and forensics with Des, and get that tattoo translated. Liam – pursue the street patrol angle for all three victims; see if anyone knows them. And check the drugs angle with Karl. Ken – you help Davy with the social services links and anything else he needs. Carmen – you’re on Vice and Gang Crime; I want to know who trafficked the girl, if she was. Let’s keep this tight, everyone; we have three victims and we can’t let the trail run cold.” He nodded to the visiting scientists. “Thanks for coming. Do you mind if I join you for the third P.M.?”

John rose to leave. “I’ll see you there in an hour.”

The group dispersed and Craig beckoned Jake and Annette into his office just as Nicky reappeared. She screwed up her face.

“All done?”

Annette made a face. “Yes. You did the right thing leaving. If I hadn’t needed to hear it I’d have left as well.”

Nicky smiled gratefully. “Coffee for three coming up.”

They entered the small office and arranged themselves around the desk. When Nicky had brought in the drinks Craig began.

“Joanne Greer. Where are we?”

Annette swallowed a mouthful of coffee and shook her head. “Up the creek at the moment. Greer has hired a crack legal team and they’re pulling the case against her to bits.”

Craig frowned. “How far can they get? She confessed on tape.”

It was Jake who answered. “Entrapment. It’s what their whole appeal hinges on; they use the word in every other email to the P.P.S. They’re saying that Greer would’ve said anything to keep Ershov happy because she loved him.”

Craig exhaled noisily. “No-one’s that stupid, not even someone in love.”

Annette shook her head. “Sorry, sir, but that’s what she’s arguing and…” She glanced at him apologetically. “When you hear the tape for the first time that’s what comes across. She sounds like a besotted woman telling her lover the story he wants to hear.”

Craig raked a hand through his hair. After a moment’s angry silence he sighed.

“What does our side say?”

Annette tried for an optimistic smile. “They’re not as pessimistic as I sound. Both our lawyers and The Met’s say it was a solid bust, but that it will come down to what a new jury thinks on the day.”

Craig rose and walked to the window, gazing out at the river below. He imagined Yemi doing the same at the Thames. Without turning round he said.

“Annette, find out where Yemi is tomorrow morning and arrange a conference call for the four of us. Book an hour; I want us to get our ducks in a row.”

She nodded. “OK, I’ll let you know what time. But…”

He swung round. “More good news?”

She winced. “Sorry.”

He reminded himself not to shoot the messenger and waved her on.

“The court date’s been changed.”

Craig was only half listening, already imagining Joanne Greer preening herself in the witness box. “To when?”

“To the Friday after Easter. April tenth.”

He thudded into his chair. “It can’t be! It’s too soon.”

She glanced at Jake and they nodded in unison. “I’m sorry, but it is, sir. Greer’s defence team pushed for it because their senior barrister has major surgery scheduled. Apparently it can’t be moved so the judge gave in.”

“More like they wanted to catch us on the hop.”

This was just what he needed; three dead bodies and an appeal coming that could last for weeks. He chastised himself immediately. He wasn’t the only one involved; John would be tied up on the forensic side and Liam would be called to give evidence as well. The others watched his expression change from incredulity to rage and then settle on a closed eyed shrug. When Craig reopened his eyes he was resigned.

“OK, take me through it again from the top.”

****

Mike Augustus stared at the body on the table and then across it at his boss. John’s expression was as quizzical as his own. The boy’s body was perfect, or as perfect as a dead body could be. No scars, no needle marks and no anal tears; no signs of a struggle, past abuse or abrasions anywhere, apart from the manacle marks on his limbs. If they hadn’t known that the lad had been drowned they would have thought that he was asleep.

John pushed a strand of hair off the youth’s thin face, speaking into the microphone as he did.

“Fair-skinned, Caucasian youth of slim build. Aged between sixteen and twenty years. Eyes blue, hair dark blond. No obvious injuries except ankle and wrist abrasions. Tattoo on his right inner arm.” He paused, shaking his head and turning off the mike. “I wonder what his story was.”

Mike glanced up from the corpse, his face the picture of innocence, as if the horrors they saw every day never touched him. He looked so much younger than his forty-one years that he made John, only three years his senior, feel like an old man.

“You mean how did he meet his killer?”

That wasn’t what John had meant but he claimed it just the same. “That and what was his life like? With the others we at least have some clue to their lifestyle, but this boy…”

As his voice tailed off he knew they were both thinking the same thing; this boy looks just like I did when I was young. No sign of drugs or sex, or anything really; a bit thin but otherwise just a regular healthy teenager who someone must have noticed had gone. Neither of them said the words because to have done so would have implied that their other victims had somehow deserved their deaths, and that wasn’t true or what they meant. Nothing warranted what had been done to these three and everyone deserved someone mourning them somewhere.

What they actually meant was that the boy seemed low risk, as if his lifestyle couldn’t have exposed him to any threat. It was judgemental and the scientist in both men dismissed it immediately, but it was more than judgemental; they couldn’t have been more wrong.

****

When Craig entered John’s office two hours later it was with an apology on his lips.

“Sorry. I got caught up on the Greer appeal. Anything useful on the P.M.?”

John pushed a single sheet of paper across the desk, watching as Craig read it with widening eyes. He glanced up from the page.

“Nothing?”

John shook his head. “Nothing except drowning, a bleach wash and the same tattoo on his right arm. Not a mark on him apart from the restraints, and no sign of drugs, sex or alcohol; although his tox-screen isn’t through yet. This kid looks like a boy scout.”

Craig shook his head immediately. “He wasn’t or he wouldn’t be dead. His lifestyle just isn’t visible.”

John frowned. “You’re talking as if this is a judgement killer.”

Craig grimaced; it was the first time the idea had been vocalised but it was spot on. Liam had mooted disapproval as a motive but it had taken John to crystallise the idea.

“I suppose I am.” He paused and then spoke more firmly. “Yes. I am. That’s exactly what I think. I think that this is someone who judged our victims and found them lacking somehow, so he sentenced them to death.”

“He?”

“Or they. I’d be surprised if this was a woman, but you’re right, there’s nothing to rule that out.”

He fell silent for a moment and John stayed silent too, knowing that Craig’s quiet was the prelude to an exposé not a request for comment. The two men sat, one listening to the wall clock tick and wondering what to cook for dinner that night, the other organising his thoughts on the case. John was just on the point of choosing curry when Craig spoke again.

“Let’s say…” He stopped, letting the ticks fill the room, then he restarted, more energetically than before. “Let’s say that each of our victims was living a lifestyle that was somehow less than ideal in the killer’s eyes.”

John interrupted, all thoughts of cooking gone. “The girl was a sex worker and drug addict…”

“The first boy might have been gay and the second one…”

There was silence while both of them stared at the walls.

John spoke first. “The second boy did something that didn’t leave marks.”

“Not on him anyway. OK, let’s say that our John Doe number two had committed some evil; murder, rape, whatever, none of which would have marked him, but would still have ruined his victim’s life.”