

#  Frankenstein.com

### Hylton H Smith

### Published by Promethean

Copyright by Hylton Smith 2012

Smashwords Edition

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher,

Promethean

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Cover Image Courtesy of Matt Hale

www.timefreezer.co.uk

# Chapter 1

D.S. Stephanie Baker reeled away from her workstation, pushing her chair over as she fled to the restroom. She was retching as she passed colleagues, who were alarmed at the expression of terror on her face. The disturbance brought Jack Renton out of his office.

"What the hell's going on?" It was D.I. Ben Adams who brought everyone's attention to her work-screen. The images were still playing on a loop. The camera was annoyingly zooming in and out of focus. The corpse was horrendously disfigured. A few more officers turned away from the workstation and Renton asked one of the females to check on Stephanie. The concentration within the huddle was lanced by Renton's phone ringing.

"Jack, it's Greg, if you haven't got your system up on the screen yet, you'd better do it now."

Renton replied quietly to the Medical Examiner. "We have it running Greg. At least I assume we're watching the same thing. How did you get on to this?"

"A colleague from Lincolnshire called me to say it popped up when he booted up the system at 7.25 this morning. Apparently it's all over the country."

Renton tried to gather his thoughts, while he was still watching the loop. There was no audio commentary, but text had been embedded in the video, acting like subtitles. This message was also on a loop. 'Do not judge before evidence is assessed. It is being delivered to Tynemouth Priory as you watch. Click the link before you depart.' Renton responded.

"How can it be all over the country?"

"Come on Jack, even I know that the system is designed as an Intranet as well as having an internet capability to Google for information in the public domain. It looks like the former has been compromised. My colleague rang because of the reference to the Priory. Your phone is going to get hot any time now."

"Ok, thanks Greg." Turning back to Ben Adams, he passed on Greg Watson's assertion regarding the impending maelstrom into which they were going to be sucked. Adams nodded and said they should be careful about clicking any links.

"It could crash the whole system, or plant a virus, or God knows what. We don't even know if this is genuine or some kind of hoax." The entire gathering was gripped by inertia as Stephanie returned; she looked pale and drawn but declared it was due to the over-indulgence in breakfast rather than a direct reaction to the butchery. Nobody believed her; they had all been a little forewarned when Ben Adams had conveyed that there was something horrific on screen, before they actually saw the video. Stephanie had been hit with it unexpectedly. The debate over clicking the link was abruptly resolved when Chief Constable Bernard Cousins rang from the Durham H.Q.

"Jack, I have been called by one of my technicians. If you haven't already done so you must sw...."

"We have Sir, and we're just taking in the possible consequences of clicking the link."

"Well don't wait, my guys have already done this and it goes to a website. You need to check it yourself and note all relevant details. It's self-explanatory and very worrying. Get back to me as soon as you've got the details."

Adams clicked with some trepidation.

'Welcome to Frankenstein.com. This site is for updates on the 'corpse' which is about to be discovered in Tynemouth Priory. The police have been informed, so they can't deny what is fact. However, they will not reveal evidence until they are ready. This site will provide that evidence and update it regularly. It must be appreciated that the site will only be accessible until the server is forced to close it down. Fortunately, by using fragmented domain names and relevant meta-tags, it will pop up somewhere else. The internet will take over control. Once the hits reach a certain level, the world-wide appetite will predominate over the cumbersome spider-crawling by search engines. That is the beauty of the net. It has already started – the stats are changing so fast that analysis is pointless, and the police have yet to collect the bodies.'

Renton slumped into a chair and buried his head in his hands. He looked up just as the phones began their chorus. He saw everyone staring at him, expecting some direction. All he could do right now was to get to Tynemouth. Even though the locals were now at the scene, they would have to respect forensic and medical examination priorities. He asked Stephanie to hold the fort while he and Adams set off for the coast. He checked with Greg Watson again and was assured that Clive Donoghue's forensic team were on their way. Watson had something to add.

"The producer of the video was helpful with the inclusion of a sophisticated magnification device while the loop is paused. The resolution capability was incredible. It suggested two things which we will have to check at the scene, but it means that anyone who has seen this video on our Intranet or the website can also conclude precisely what I have. I think I should travel with you on this occasion Jack."

Renton asked Adams to pick up Greg at the mortuary. He knew all hell was going to break loose and it was just as well he could use the trip to Tynemouth to gather his thoughts on how to handle things. Watson shifted Renton's perception by his declarations.

"It seems quite obvious from the magnification that the butchery has been performed by a novice, if one assumes they were trying to convince the observer that this was the corpse of a single person. First impressions were that it was a transsexual. I doubt that very much. The second point is, in my opinion, of more concern. Every amateur sleuth, pathologist, or psychologist will join in the fray. Subject to getting the remains back to the lab, I estimate that there are potentially parts from at least five different people involved. However, the video is cleverly shot in black and white, with flicker patches to make it appear very old. That's why my estimate may be proved wrong." Adams swerved unconsciously and Watson reminded him that it would be wise to slow down and maintain his focus on getting them to the priory in one piece.

"The torso, head, arms, legs and genitals don't match up visually. This is where my assumption will be tested. At the joints, the red meat is pared back to reveal the connecting bone. It's either a ploy to hint that the job is roughly done, or the intent is to actually make sure we test all available DNA to reveal how many bodies we are talking about."

Renton was quiet. Then he drew the attention of the others to the final part of the message on the website.

"It stated that the police had not yet 'collected the bodies.' The statement was – bodies – plural."

The rest of the journey was completed in silent contemplation. Renton's mind wandered to how the conviction of the serial killer, beginning with the murder of Alistair Banks in 2018, had been pivotal in bridging the rift between his professional and private lives. His wife Jane had initially blamed his dedication to his work as the root cause of their problems, now she was encouraging him to continue. He had enjoyed this period so much. Although he still lived apart from Jane and his son, Daniel, they had all grown closer. When he suggested he was ready to take early retirement in a couple of years, she resisted it, saying that she had been affected badly by having to bring Daniel through his childhood alone. Now that their son was almost ready to apply to university, things were so much easier. The two intervening years had been blissful, and now he began to feel a cold sweat at the thought of another high profile investigation trashing all that had become precious in his private life. The words of Ben Adams while driving into the Priory car park echoed loudly in his mind.

"This case will be played out in the living rooms of the world – just like modern warfare. Welcome to the third decade of the twenty-first century."

The 'goods' were thankfully undisturbed, but there was already a crowd of local residents and reporters to contend with. A coffin awaited them. They were expecting a bag, a container, or a blanket to contain the prime exhibit. A simple, but expensive casket was puzzling. Donoghue and his squad were already busy, and had marked off the various areas of access for the relevant expertise. "The coffin is yours Greg," said Donoghue, "we'll open it for you and take pictures before the contents are disturbed. Once you have what you want loaded on to the transport vehicle we'll grab the coffin." The biting December onshore wind completed the grisly scene on this day, the fifteenth of the month, 2020. On a warm summer's day the ruin conveyed an image of comfort, a sentry against the ancient foes from the North Sea. Today, in the march toward winter, it spoke of the utter futility of resisting the elements.

As the lid was carefully eased off, the shivering officials were met with yet another surprise. There was a hole in the chest where the heart should have been and it seemed to have the hallmarks of an electric routing tool. The organ itself was wrapped in a sheet of greaseproof paper, as if it was something the village butcher would have provided for the evening meal. There was no note or instruction – nothing to indicate why this had been done after the video had been uploaded. For now, they decided to refer to the heart as a trophy taken and then passed on. Greg Watson did not need to elucidate on his observations from the film being accurate. The head was that of a woman aged around 40-50, with dense black hair, probably artificially coloured. The torso was also female, but much younger looking, judging by the shape, very slender frame and youthful, wrinkle-free skin. The breasts were cosmetically enhanced according to those who professed to know about such things. The arms were almost certainly male, being very hairy and muscular. The length also suggested someone over 6 feet tall. The legs were also deemed to be male, judging by the misalignment to the female pelvis, and they were each adorned with a small tattoo, which were partly obscured by the longish red hair on both thighs and calves. These observations would have to be backed up with laboratory data in the coming days, but the genitalia only needed visual assessment to declare separation from a male of the species, with blonde hair. The probability of Greg Watson finding anything to refute his earlier statement that five different bodies had contributed to the joined-up human jigsaw was remote. Ben Adams muttered through his freezing lips.

"Frankenstein.com - that must be the chosen trade mark of the killer." Both Renton and Watson tried to speak at the same time, and the D.C.I. gave way.

"Don't be too sure that this is a single killer acting alone here Ben; there's a lot of work involved in making the movie and overseeing its distribution, then there is the small matter of procuring five corpses, performing the dismemberment, and then joining the bones in a crude but effective way, with chain links. Also, it would have been a monumental task to get this coffin and its contents here in such a relatively good condition." Adams nodded as Renton added his insight.

"Didn't the myth suggest that Frankenstein took parts from people who were already dead before he subjected them to high voltage? This atrocity we're looking at must surely be constituted by poor souls who were killed in order to participate." He then decided he should switch on his mobile and open the flood gates.

The first message was from Stephanie. 'The website has attracted so many hits that the server has crashed, so it is now out of action, even before it was closed down. Cousins' technicians are frantically trying to discover how Frank, as they are now calling him, hacked into the Intranet and informed the entire countrywide force, within an instant of anyone booting up the system at any time, from any location. Uncle Bernard is going ape-shit, not a pleasant sight. The really bad news is that Frank is still ahead, because people around the world are inviting him to place content on their sites and linking them to others. Our phones are overloaded and we've been tipped off that a delegation from London is headed north. Hope you won't be too long in returning as there's something potentially recognisable on the video, through a skylight. I first thought it was the outline of the top of a building but with higher magnification it turned out to be a computer generated image the sender included for our attention. It is a gothic-shaped gravestone with a number on it where you would expect a name.' Renton stifled his concern over the London squad and reflected once more on the 2018 case. He concluded that he was about to experience the subtle differences between a serial killer and mass murder, whether the latter was carried out by one or more perpetrators.

There was also a message from Jane. 'We heard about your case on the news, and Daniel was straight on to the website. I couldn't watch the video. He was mad that it went off before he had texted his friends. It's awful, ring me when you can.' He could not banish the conversation they had a year ago. He had been offered a gentle step toward retirement in the statistics department. Jane taunted him by saying he wouldn't last five minutes.

'You have a problem with authority Jack, you'd be as miserable as hell. Just stay in your present job until they either throw you out or they find you something more acceptable.' He had to admit he felt proud to have been a part of Ben Adams' step up from Detective Sergeant to Inspector, and Stephanie's consequent recognition. He had also managed to prise D.S. Sam Gibson, who had contributed so much to the Alistair Banks case, from the Middlesbrough branch of the Three Rivers force. It was frustrating that Sam was currently on vacation. He rang Cousins.

"I have the details from the video and they check out with the 'creation' at the Priory. I'm going to wait a while longer to have a word with Clive Donoghue before returning to Newcastle. I understand your technicians are trying to determine how Frank got into the system. My question right now is how to handle Frank going forward. Even if we could shut him or her out of the Intranet, he or she has the rest of the world on the team in terms of letting everyone know what has been done or about to be done. Our normal way of not releasing certain information to the public is under serious threat. Frank's going to play chess with us. We won't come out of that too well unless we can maintain the Intranet as our prime contact point with Frank. This is just a thought Sir, and ties in with my next question. Who is going to handle the press and the 'bomb disposal' squad from London?"

"Yes, I also see this as a tricky call, and the London delegation will not be open to allowing an external presence to operate within the Intranet. The fact that it has been penetrated already will count for nothing with them, even though they have apparently accepted that the Trojan horse gained access at their core, before the regions were uplinked. As far as the press is concerned, I'll handle those on our patch. I can't say what will develop nationally as yet, but this will be discussed with the bomb disposal squad, as you refer to them, and I'll handle them for as long as I can so that you can get on with due process of the evidence."

"Thank you Sir, I want to check with Watson on return, with regard to how long each of the five victims has been dead. It strikes me that it's likely to have been some time in the planning and maybe we should get on to missing persons lists ahead of the DNA results coming in." C.C. Cousins was happy with this approach and Renton hailed Ben Adams to the car.

"What do you think about splitting our efforts along the lines of communication with Frank as one task, and the hard evidence as the other?"

"It sounds good if I get to do the evidence."

"I knew you would get your preference in first. Ok, you work with Sam, and see if you can get him to postpone his leave. He doesn't go away anywhere and he has no family other than his daughter in New Zealand. I'll work with Steph – Sam is better at the detail and she has more to offer in lateral thinking."

"Lateral thinking? It was always called disobedience when I cut my teeth. You've got a deal."

"So will you get right on to Sam?"

"No need Boss, he texted me to say he had heard like everyone else, he's at his desk." Renton managed a painful smile as they climbed out of the car, despite Adams' manoeuvre, and the wind progressing to a gale.

Greg Watson was not hopeful, even with his fancy new 'time of death' equipment, that he could be as precise as Renton hoped.

"I agree with your opinion that these people may have been dead for some time, and that could be our problem. Their parts are in good condition, and if that means they have been frozen for a long time, it would affect our new technique. In general, both methods we use are more helpful when we're talking hours rather than weeks or even months. It may require your lists of missing persons to go back some way Jack."

Renton turned back to Adams. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get over and see if Donoghue has anything of interest yet. If he hasn't we can get out of this bloody wind and head back. I'm depending on you being proactive with the evidence Ben; I'm no longer directing it. That was the deal unless you are having second thoughts."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." Donoghue was surprised at Adams' explanation of his temporary role, and his eyebrows testified as much. He shouted to one of his assistants.

"Angela, go ahead, show D.I. Adams your little discovery." She scuttled back to the coffin and motioned for Adams to follow her.

"Help me turn the lid over." On the underside, two lengthy numbers had been carved. They each had ten digits. Angela was having difficulty making herself heard because of the rising wind, even though they were inside the tent. She mumbled something, and then produced an instrument which lit up the numbers with a soft glow.

Adams shouted, "Blood?" She nodded and he lip read DNA. She maintained that the smears of blood appeared to highlight the numbers as one would do with a font in Microsoft Word.

"They were applied very carefully, and there's no smudging."

"What?" She leaned close to him and repeated her claim by shouting directly into his ear.

"Oh I see," said Adams. She didn't step back immediately and he said, "Is there something else?" She blushed, as she had never been so close to Ben Adams before. She snapped back into focus as she realised he still hadn't guessed how much she liked him. When he returned to the car, Renton and Greg Watson were ready to go. He told them that Donoghue was still at the marking up stage apart from Angela's find.

Renton remarked, "Steph said there was a number on some computer image on the video, but didn't say how many digits it had. Let's go and we, sorry, you can check it out." They left and drove into the watery sun, not expecting a snowfall before they pulled into the station car park.

# Chapter 2

The London party had wasted no time in getting to Newcastle. The head of Law Enforcement in the UK, Nigel Bradstock was still based in the Midwest (Birmingham, Manchester and Liverpool), even though the age-old rift between the regional arms of the Colony had been substantially healed. The Colony, which was basically Britain's clone of the Mafia, had been decidedly quiet since the miraculous new entente cordiale. Despite this cosy interlude, Bradstock had chosen to remain in Birmingham. He had finally ascended to Sir Nigel, and wanted to achieve more stability between the Police, H.M. Intelligence and the tentacles of the Colony, before the inevitable relocation to the Capital. The current events with the Intranet did nothing to smooth the path he had planned so carefully.

He did not travel to Newcastle on this occasion, but both Renton and Cousins knew this was just temporary relief for the Three Rivers force. Instead, Bradstock elected to go to London to oversee the problems facing the I.T. people in restoring impenetrability of the police Intranet. The party of three breezed into Durham H.Q. without their usual swagger. Bruce Middleton was known to the hosts as an uncompromising stickler for procedure. Kyle Jennings had been involved in the commissioning of the entire regional software link-up. The third male was not recognised when he was introduced as Charles Welling. Middleton outlined the agenda which had to be followed; it was accompanied by Bradstock's signed covering letter. In summary it stated that the system must be checked and verified by Jennings as having no identifiable anomalies before proceeding to step two. However, they declined to say what that step would entail. This provoked Renton to outline what had been found at the Priory, and his need to get on with the investigation.

"You'll have the full cooperation of the Newcastle force with your project and I'll convey to my staff just how important this is. If this helps you to proceed quickly to step two I'll ensure that I'm available for you at that time." This was interpreted by Middleton as a slur on the I.T. mission.

"Not at all," said Renton, "I'm sure C.C. Cousins will endorse our concern that your housekeeping must come first. You people have basically the same objective as I do, we must both identify the cause of our predicament. You're searching for a breach, either by an external hacker, or an internal error. I'm trying to find a madman in a population of millions, even if we exclude grandmothers and invalids. I'd rather not bore you with platitudes such as 'the first twenty-four hours in a case like this is crucial.' You really must excuse me, and in any case C.C. Cousins has much more knowledge of our systems than I do, that's why I'm often labelled as a dinosaur. I'll keep in touch with respect to step two. It's reassuring to meet you all." Cousins muttered an obscenity under his breath, as he smiled in apparent agreement with Renton.

Meanwhile, Frank had not been idle. The offer of hosting the latest updates, from other website owners, had been accepted. Some had already been closed down by the servers, and others had succumbed to pressure from the UK government. However, in many other parts of the world, the uncensored second video was playing freely, despite overtures from the British Prime Minister. The police Intranet had received the upload after the momentum had been re-established on the open internet. The corpses which had contributed to the human jigsaw were lined up on the floor of what looked like the same room as the first video. Attention was drawn to the order, from left to right, so this was obviously significant.

The remains which had faces were heavily disguised with theatrical makeup. On the extreme left were the legless male body, and a second male with no arms, which was indeed over six feet tall. The three remaining victims were 'arranged' to possibly suggest they were of less importance. The headless female was on the left of the three, and had by far the darkest skin of all five. The female with the missing torso had the legs crossed and they were placed directly beneath the head. The male corpse which had no genitalia had evidence of other mutilation, but the striking aspect was how the extracted penis and testicles had been brutally hacked out. There was very little bone and tissue remaining to keep the legs and torso connected, and it was laid out in a haphazard way. Only the first two seemed to command respect from the perpetrator. Renton and Stephanie eventually paused and zoomed on to the skylight and the number was still there. It was however different from the ones on the underside of the coffin lid, and the one which Stephanie had copied from the first video. They looked at one another and came to the same conclusion simultaneously. Having watched the first video again they kept pausing and zooming in on the skylight. After an interval of a running minute, then pausing and zooming, the number changed. Repeating this many times, they had all five numbers, which included the two from the coffin. They immediately began to analyse them in the order they had retrieved them.

Nothing stood out immediately. Stephanie was doodling while Renton took a call from Eva Roberts. All of a sudden she smiled. "That's it," she declared, "we were right, those bodies on the left seem to be different." She listed them in the left to right order from the second video, and then placed the numbers in the order they appeared in the skylight. She confirmed that when the first video was played from the start, the order was always the same, but it wasn't the time which triggered the change, it was the pause action. Once more she concentrated on the numbers.

Legless Male Body 2007200218

Armless Male Body 1506199822

Headless Female 1703197743

Female No Torso 0706200020

Male No Genitals 1809198733

Although the first two were the same as those inscribed on the coffin lid she could not find anything to corroborate the inference of which came first. Renton was still talking on the phone when Stephanie shouted to nobody in particular.

"Yes! - Oh, I'm sorry Sir." Renton asked Eva Roberts to hold. "What have you got Steph?" She handed him the sheet and spoke in a low voice.

"They are dates of birth and age. The ones from the coffin seem to be referring to the corpses on the left in the second video, but I can't be absolutely sure of that." He patted her on the back and asked her to bring Ben Adams into his office. He apologised to Eva Roberts.

"Sorry about that, Stephanie got a little carried away. Anyway, as I was saying, I'm not surprised that you called. I think that the only people who don't know about this case must be undiscovered tribes in the Amazon rain forest. I'm hoping you're calling because you would like to help out."

"This isn't my specialist field Jack. Serial killers generally work to a pattern of separate acts with a time interval in the discovery of each victim. This sounds like long term preparation and then revelation of multiple killings."

"Well, it's not like anything I've had to deal with either, but I don't have a choice about whether or not to investigate."

"When you put it like that I suppose I could keep in touch by video conference. It seems that's how you are going to have to deal with whoever is behind this. I don't think it would be sensible for me to come over right away. Let's see what develops."

"Ok Eva, I'll get together what we have so far and transmit it to you soon." When Ben Adams walked into the office he was with Greg Watson. Stephanie joined them. Renton mentioned the conversation with Eva Roberts and then told Adams that the evidence Stephanie had discovered was now in his ball court, to progress with Sam Gibson.

"I suggest you begin looking at missing persons and see if anything jumps out." He was about to outline how he and Stephanie would pursue the communication with Frank when Watson interrupted.

"As I suspected, these victims have been dead some time and I can only give you approximate data. The two which Stephanie believes are somehow different were terminated at least nine months ago, whereas the others suffered more recently – around four to six weeks back, eight at most. However, I do have to revise my earlier declaration that the butcher was amateurish in terms of surgical techniques. Now that I've seen the bodies from which the parts were taken, there is a different picture. The legless and armless males in the second video were meticulously precise and neatly conducted. The others were the exact opposite – heavily mutilated. Either we have two operatives involved or Stephanie is right, the two corpses on the left of the second video have been treated very differently. The assembly process of the parts for the first video does not show this two-tiered approach, almost as if the composite result was unimportant in this respect. I'm not sure what to make of this, yet it disturbs me. It is over to you I'm afraid."

Eva Roberts had been of great help to Renton in profiling the serial killer two years ago, and in predicting how the pattern of communication would evolve. He would send her the updates as soon as Stephanie could package all relevant information together.

*

Meanwhile Bradstock was weaving his web in London. He stood over the I.T. team constantly, and contacted Interpol with regard to finding the source of genuine posts made by Frank, on those overseas websites which their servers refused to block from the net. The only thing Interpol came back with was something he already knew, that the posts were coming from IP addresses which were in commercial internet booths from around the UK. However, the effort was not entirely fruitless, insofar as it provoked a call to Jack Renton which could have been Frank.

"Please listen, don't speak. I am willing to re-engage with you via your Intranet on one condition. Think about this. I will call you back."

"Hello, hello, I can't hear you." The line went dead. The voice, as expected was heavily distorted, but was almost certainly male. Renton's frustration was coming to the boil when his phone rang again.

"Get your people to leave the Intranet alone for now, and you will get the information before the internet does. What is posted on the web will depend on how much mutual trust develops between us." The line went dead again. Even if they had been ready to trace the calls, less than fifteen seconds was far too short. Renton told himself that the calls would have been made from public lines, but he knew there was trouble ahead.

"That's all we need," he said to Stephanie, "Bradstock will shit himself when I pass Frank's ultimatum on to him."

"Sir?"

"It would have been a pleasure to see him squirm under any other circumstances. Sorry Steph, Frank wants to keep us up to speed by continuing to invade the Intranet."

"How do we know it was Frank?"

"We don't really, but we have to take the calls seriously. If it is Frank and we ignore the offer, the situation could get worse. We really could do with Eva Roberts' input, but old Sir Nigel needs to be put on the spot first."

Clive Donoghue had begun to blitz the formidable array of samples from the Priory. The DNA checks had priority. It was crucial to know if there were more than five distinct variants involved with the coffin. Second on his list were footprint casts taken from the soft ground around the coffin. However, he had something for Renton. Apart from Angela's discovery of the numbers, there was a stamped reference on the underside of the main part of the casket. It was curious in a way, because neither burial nor cremation had been in the plan. As it was a professionally made casket, Donoghue wondered how it was procured and why the stamp had not been removed by Frank.

"Presumably he didn't know it was there. It must also be highly unusual to ask a funeral service to provide a coffin without knowing or verifying the deceased. Maybe I'm wrong Jack, but it could be worth following up." Renton agreed, reminding him that evidence for this case should go to Adams first.

"Oh yes, I forgot about that. Is there something I haven't been told?" Renton assured him it was merely intended to optimise resource. He still looked confused.

Sam Gibson began the tedious trawl of reported missing persons reported in the periods of 8-12 months and 1-2 months ago, and which individuals were still missing. He would produce a full list in case Stephanie's link to the birth date and age was a red herring. Meanwhile Ben Adams began checking with a couple of funeral parlours with respect to providing coffins without seeing the body, and the meaning of the stamp discovered by Donoghue. He got a different story from each of them. The first one, a smaller business, indicated that they had never supplied a coffin without having to collect and prepare the body. They said unconvincingly that they knew nothing of the practice of stamping the coffins either, and they used a local supplier. The second operation was bigger and more lavish. Although it was unusual, they had sometimes supplied coffins to be shipped overseas when a relative had died outside the UK. They were also familiar with the stamping procedure. Apparently, the bigger suppliers of a wide range of caskets wanted to have records for sales analysis, and it had become a government requirement a number of years ago, in case exhumation was required. It could help tie up the body with dates, and avoid mistakes if the person's remains had to be examined again. The director of the business demonstrated a few different examples. When Adams produced Donoghue's photo of the coffin, the man had no hesitation in saying it was from a big supplier in Leeds, by the name of Ashton.

*

Sir Nigel could not disguise the sarcasm in his voice.

"Yes, that sounds like a great idea Jack, let's give this psychopath the run of our databases and cherry-pick what he tells the world about our progress. Have you gone completely mad?"

"I realise it's a difficult call to make Sir, and I just wanted to get your reaction, as I'm not up to speed with the intricacies of our Intranet security. As a complete layman I thought if it has already been breached, Frank must be pretty clever. Has your I.T. team made any progress in finding out how it happened?"

"Unfortunately not, but if we allow this character to dictate to us, where would it all end? It would also encourage others to have a go." Renton steeled himself for an avalanche of wrath.

"So Frank can just continue to operate within the system anyway, and we miss out on direct contact, with the attendant risk of pushing him into a more unstable state."

Bradstock began to recognise the habit of Renton covering his own arse by delegating upwards.

"Of course the Intranet is vulnerable until we can shut out all hackers again, but agreeing to such an arrangement with this criminal cannot be defended; it is tantamount to endorsing his act of sabotage. Even if we can't prevent this Frank's access, we can't be seen to negotiate, in the same way that we don't with terrorists."

"So, if I read you right Sir, when the call comes again I must say we can't comply. So far I haven't been able to get a word in edgeways. I suppose that puts the onus on Frank to decide whether or not to inform us ahead of the rest of the world. Maybe it's the attention thing again, you know – demonstration of control. I've been told that it's premature to conclude Frank is male, but as far as I know I'm the only one to hear the voice, and I'd put my mortgage on it. I'm not saying we are excluding others being involved, but the person who called me had a deep voice, even allowing for the distortion. Very well, I'll just wait and see what happens next. I hope your guys can patch up the fortress as soon as possible."

*

The footprints at the Priory were numerous, but around the location of the coffin there were two predominating candidates. One was a size 9-10 Asics trainer; the other was larger and needed more examination. Donoghue was pretty sure it was a hiking boot of some kind, even though the soles were well worn down, thus devoid of a manufacturer's mould. This at least strengthened the argument that more than one person was involved in moving the coffin from any transport to the Priory.

Stephanie had sent the latest information to Eva Roberts and it did the trick. She was hooked and called Renton to say she was coming on the next flight from Amsterdam.

# Chapter 3

"Well Steph, it looks like your gut feeling that two of the bodies are different from the others in some way, is looking pretty solid. We haven't seen any contradictory evidence so far. That's why I want to talk about motive. Any thoughts? Take your time. I'll get us some coffee."

'Jesus,' she thought, 'this is a first, I should have asked him to bring me a Panini as well.' Renton passed the time of day with the canteen ladies and had to smile when sixty-six year old Maud caught him unawares by giving her interpretation of Frank's website posts. He then realised she was talking from second hand information, courtesy of her grandson. "Well don't hesitate to tip me off if you think we've missed something Maud, like the new price of these bloody coffees." He disappeared into the corridor as she began wagging her finger. Stephanie started cautiously.

"We don't have enough leads at present to form robust ideas of motive Sir. Otherwise you would be bouncing them off me, instead of asking me outright. What I'm pretty sure of is that you think that I think the motive is strongly connected to the different treatment of the males who had their limbs removed. So I won't disappoint you; that is exactly what I think. Why that is the case, is the puzzle. Perhaps there's a clue in what Greg said, you know, that the surgery involved with the removal of the limbs was highly professional. A butcher, vet, or even an actual surgeon perhaps, would have such skills albeit at different levels of expertise. I don't think that it's good use of our time to speculate just yet, we need more dialogue with Frank, or better still, DNA results from the Priory. Maybe Adams will come up with something. Do you disagree with me Sir?"

"Not really, but we can't just sit on our backside while Bradstock's people try to fix the leak. The only thing I feel certain about is that Frank wants dialogue; merely publishing to the anonymous world of the net won't do it for him. In retrospect I agree with Sir Nigel, let him come to us. It's a sad day when I admit to being on the same page as Bradstock. We can keep on throwing a few possibilities around, and when Eva gets here, let her pick up the profiling side. Why don't you go and see how Sam is getting on with missing persons? I'll speak to Donoghue again." The phone rang. "Renton." He was a little uneasy about what C.C. Cousins was about to say. In fact it was good news. The delegation from London had already concluded that the breach point was not in the Northeast. Consequently, Middleton and Jennings were departing to reinforce the effort back in London. They left Charles Welling to act as a reference point in overseeing any recommendations which might be advised from the Capital.

*

Ben Adams eventually found his way to the owner of the coffin maker in a rundown industrial park in Leeds. Cyril Ashton was a proud man, and painted in the short history of the family business which had survived for three generations, considerably longer than any of their deceased clients. Ashton confirmed their stamp matched the one in Adams' photo. He retrieved the ledger and quickly found the actual delivery address. Each unit of production had a code which identified the base wood, model, date of manufacture, quality assessment, shipping address and name of the customer. Ben Adams' pulse quickened and then stabilised when the delivery address was in Hull. He took all of the details from Cyril Ashton and set off along the M-62 to the East Coast.

"Sam, I'm heading for Humberside, so I probably won't make it back tonight unless I find something crucial. Let Jack know that the actual coffin was sent to Hull." As he sped along the motorway in his new Audi, his concentration wandered to Ashton's explanation for the irregular chain of events from his factory to the eventual customer. Apparently this person had an ageing father who was in a euthanasia clinic in Switzerland. The old man had declared his wish to end his life this way while he was in the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. His wife had already passed away and so the son, who was the customer for the coffin, had agreed to help his father die with whatever dignity he had left. They wanted a coffin of English Oak to be despatched from Hull to Ostend, and onward to the clinic for the return of the body. Ashton's company would normally have taken care of the whole routing as part of their service, but this was not required, the customer said he wanted to make this journey with the casket personally, just as he would on the return. Ashton said he had authentic documentation to cover this.

Adams just knew he was going to find nothing in Hull to substantiate this explanation. He expected the customer name to be false. He decided to ring Sam again and ask him to check with the Swiss clinic as to whether they had dealt with a client by the name of Arnold Cranston, or the son Philip Cranston, in the past year. He pulled into a service station for a sandwich while Sam made the call and got back to him. Adams was still without a steady girlfriend and had actually succumbed to registering with a dating agency. He was paranoid about anyone finding out; he had always felt only really sad people got sucked into this kind of last resort. In fact the trigger for going this route was the mess Renton had made of his life. Detectives in the modern police force were pretty dysfunctional people, perpetually confronted with the seedy side of life, and unconsciously afflicted with a jaundiced personality aura in normal social circles. What woman in her right mind would put up with this, let alone want it? He mused about Renton having made great strides with Jane and Daniel in the last couple of years, yet he still lived apart from them because it worked better that way. Yeah right. He wanted more than that, and without the intervening years of misery. His phone rang. "Ben you were right, the clinic has never heard of Arnold or Philip Cranston. Do you want me to check on anything else?"

"No, I'll still continue to Hull and check the delivery address for the coffin. Presumably it had to go somewhere when it was unloaded from the lorry. It could be a place for forensics to look at. I'll call you back."

*

Renton had picked up Eva Roberts from the airport and asked Stephanie to join them in his office. Eva immediately noticed the makeover since her previous visit.

"Well this is a vast improvement Jack, and your filing system looks as if it actually belongs in your office." Stephanie dropped her pen on the floor to take temporary refuge behind the desk, and regain control of her facial reflexes, thus preventing an embarrassing smile.

"It's nice of you to say so, but I have to admit that I had nothing to do with it. My son came to the office one day and refused to drink his coffee in here because he was disoriented with the chaos, and more importantly, where to put down his cup. So we, Steph and I, did some spring cleaning. In all honesty, she designed the scheme and I said yes." They were just about to begin when his phone rang. It was Frank. The tracing team were alerted and the call went to speakerphone.

"What is the verdict?" It was the first time Renton had been invited to speak.

"It can't be approved. It's the same protocol as would be applied for terrorism. I regret this and..."

"It may indeed be something you will come to regret. Don't bother with the trace, goodbye."

The call had injected apprehension of what would happen next. Barely five minutes had elapsed when Sam Gibson entered the office and said, "Best go into the system Sir, right away."

A flashing message said 'Update' and clicking though the link took them to a site headed as 'Frankie goes to Cyber-News', to most people a harmless enough name. 'As the police want to keep evidence to themselves, as usual, they have declined my offer to inform them before posting to sites like this. It is a strange decision since I am their source of that evidence. Those who are following the multiplicity of threads already on this case need to know that this is part of the justice system we are supposed to uphold with pride. In fact this is a good decision for you, because you will always be ahead of the police. There are already comments being exchanged that the Frankenstein case is more popular than video games such as Grand Theft Auto used to be. It is a different kind of excitement because although the outcome cannot be influenced by a single participant, mass comments will be evaluated and may be acted upon.'

Eva Roberts couldn't resist a comment that this was a man with decisive confidence.

"He has acted immediately on your delivery of Bradstock's edict. I wonder whether this characteristic may prove to be a weakness, let us hope so." They didn't have long to wait in order to re-engage with him. Renton did not try to speak.

"I will continue to use your Intranet to place data where all of your law enforcement people can see it at once. I am fairly certain that your gurus who are trying to fix the portal I created will have another objective – that of keeping certain elements which would normally be uploaded, off the system. I will therefore be in regular contact with you by audio. If you don't want this, say so now, I will interpret silence as your affirmation of my proposal." Two seconds later the phone went dead, and the tracing guys said Frank never seemed to exceed fifteen seconds and had obviously thought this through before making the first call. They asked Renton to try to intervene next time.

The phone rang once more. This was the call Jack Renton was dreading. He just did not know when it would come. It was Bradstock.

"Jack, we are making very slow progress here in London, in fact the way I normally judge things I'd say we are making no progress, but the experts tell me otherwise. So, instead of sitting on my thumbs, I have decided to come north and see how you are doing. I have already told Cousins I am on my way, respecting the chain of command, but it is your activity I want to observe. He's fine with that as he is dealing with the press pretty much full time. Book me into a suitable hotel under your account, I don't want the paparazzi running after me – low profile is best. I should arrive tomorrow afternoon." Renton squirmed and yet dredged up an enthusiastic response.

"Ok Sir, I'll make the hotel reservation for a flexible period. It'll be good to hear about any progress the I.T. team have made, and we have managed to convince Eva Roberts to join us again, you know, the profiler you recommended two years ago."

"Excellent decision Jack, see you tomorrow." Sagging back into his chair, he uttered a string of profanities. Both Eva and Stephanie smirked at Renton's outburst on hearing that his friend, 'Sir Pain in the Arse' was about to land.

*

Sam Gibson's renowned patience was beginning to yield results with regard to the missing persons trawl. The two periods of 8-10 months and 4-8 weeks both had many instances of people reported missing, however most had since been updated as having been located. By overlaying the grid of age and gender he had eventually narrowed the number down dramatically. He decided to deal with them in a certain order because of the now accepted belief that the two young limbless males were somehow different and potentially more important in terms of motive. There were thirty-five possible matches to the age requirement for the armless corpse, but only two fitted the exact birth date and height for a 22 year-old man who had been over 6 feet tall. The first was listed as Rory Davenport, a student registered at Glasgow University, reading Philosophy and Politics. The second was named Jason Goldman from Cornwall, and he had previously been convicted several times for car theft. His status was noted as unemployed at the time of disappearance. The possible hits for the 18 year-old were more difficult to assess. Of the hundreds of 18 year-olds thrown up, six had the right birth date. One was eliminated because of a facial disfigurement – and the legless corpse clearly did not have such a feature. The remaining five were all reported missing from either London or Manchester. Sam decided to concentrate on Rory Davenport and Jason Goldman for now. His gut told him that if he could discover something significant about one of them it could produce a crack in the case which could then be exploited.

*

Ben Adams sat in his car in Hull and tried to piece together the information on the coffin acquisition, and where the gaps would take him. The delivery address he had from Cyril Ashton was unoccupied, with a 'To Let' board on display. A neighbour told him that it had been empty for almost a year, apart from a man who came on the odd occasion to check that everything was in order.

"He was about thirty or so, maybe slightly taller than me, I am 5ft. 10ins. He was white, clean-shaven, slim, and looked athletic; but his accent wasn't similar to yours – not a 'Geordie'. He was a pleasant fellow, always smiling. He said he had finished his course down here and was going back home for good. I don't know if he was employed by the owner or estate agent to keep an eye on the place, but he didn't live here." Adams rang Cyril Ashton and asked if he could speak with the delivery driver and ask him to describe the person who signed for the coffin. The response confirmed what he suspected. The driver had pulled into the side of the road, expecting to be met with another vehicle ready to transport the goods on to the ferry. In fact the recipient had stated the vehicle was delayed and asked the Ashton driver to take him to his lock-up. The man did fit with the neighbour's description. He claimed that he had no garage and he did not want the coffin in the house, and they could not wait with it in the street, so he had told the ferry collection service to come to the lock-up. Ashton's driver had been happy to help him carry the casket into the empty storage unit as the man had given him a good tip. Adams headed for the Estate Agent. The owner of the property lived in Hull, and was seeking a new tenant because the previous one had gone abroad. He called Sam and asked him to check out the name of the tenant and just knew it would be false. He was correct. Benedict S Thurlow was not registered. "Ok, Sam I am on my way back."

*

The DNA was taking some time because of the need to make sure they had it all. There was better news on the prints from the hiking boots. Trawling the internet stores had eventually produced a close match. The Chinese supplier was emailed photos and was able to confirm the brand as 'Mountain Man' and the type was 'Atecana'. They also gave the forensics department their three UK distributors, who stocked many sporting footwear products, and were located in London, Manchester and Glasgow. Further enquiries revealed that the Manchester depot had supplied twelve outlets in the Northeast. Nine were initially ruled out because they had only stocked the extra-large size within the last month and they did not fit the extreme wear pattern indicated by the prints. The others were to be checked as soon as possible.

# Chapter 4

"I'd love to go out to dinner Jane but I've got Bradstock on his way here, Eva Roberts – the profiler, has agreed to help us and she's already here. This case is going to be very complex and time-intensive; it's a perfect example of why I wanted to take the job in Statistics. You talked me out of it, remember?"

"Of course I do Jack. I just thought you might need a little company as a distraction. Don't worry about it. Why not come over at the weekend, even if it's just for a snack or a coffee? You still need to eat, and a short break often works wonders."

He agreed and thanked her for her understanding, but warned that things were going to get more hectic with Bradstock's penchant for inventing tasks that weren't well thought through. He was right, but the urgency wasn't from the Boss.

"You need to get the system up again Sir," said Stephanie, "he's back, just as he promised." When the screen jumped from sleep mode there was only one thing to ponder. The revolving symbol was mesmerising.

.

They both stood in silence like goldfish, open-mouthed and vacant. Eva Roberts intruded into their trance.

"This is vaguely familiar. I'm almost certain I read about a case some years ago, in which this symbol was mentioned. I should look it up." Stephanie snapped out of stasis and turned to her screen.

"It will be on the net, it will be quicker to Google it. Frank is all about the web, so it will be there." She looked at the symbol again and hesitated.

"It is Alpha-Omega," said Eva, "the letter A is the modern version of Alpha and the Omega is Greek." There were hundreds of thousands of references on the web. The most common explanation revealed that the clue was indeed the selection of the first letter of the modern world alphabet and the last letter of the alphabet of the ancient Greek world. The intended message was 'Beginning and End, spanning the era of true civilisation.' Jack Renton was still imitating a goldfish. Eva ventured a suggestion.

"It could be intended in this context to mean the five bodies are the beginning and end, which would be good news. Alternatively, they could just be the first five of twenty-six. I think we should proceed very carefully with Frank, he doesn't strike me as someone who compromises, and he acts quickly."

Stephanie drew their attention to the fact that it was already on the net and the subject of hundreds of discussion threads. Renton's mobile ringtone startled him.

"Oh no," he began, and then he saw his son's name flash up.

"Dad it's me, Daniel. Have you seen the...."

"Yes I have, and I need you to keep your questions for your imaginary friends on the internet. I can't discuss these things with you. I don't want to be rude but you have to end this call. I'm coming over at the weekend, and look forward to seeing how you are doing then. Bye Daniel." He felt quite upset that he had to be so short with his son, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. Stephanie had continued with the searches and broke the moment of introspection.

"The Alpha-Omega symbol also has a religious association. It is a Christian connection – the coming of Jesus was the beginning and would reside with us for eternity – presumably the end." Renton resumed his pragmatic attitude.

"Jesus eh, not another religious zealot I hope. I find these people so difficult to understand." His office phone rang.

"How do you like the new method of communication? The bloggers are doing your job for you. Check for yourself on cruc-efiction.com and you may learn something. I will be in touch."

The two women heard this on speakerphone and Stephanie immediately got the site up. There was a fierce discussion going on across the ether. It was mainly centred on the atrocities of the Crusades, illustrating just how their legacy had fermented over time and almost became the religious equivalent of a cosmic singularity, where the laws of conventional reason broke down. Those observing, rather than participating in the discussion were better placed to see that this was developing into a Christian/Islamic war of words. There was a sidebar which had links to other sites discussing the significance of the symbol. Stephanie checked some of them out and the crusade theme was recurring, but others were emerging – taking the discourse back to the relevance to the corpse in the Priory. These particular threads were exploring the literal meaning of the symbol rather than any specific perceived extrapolation of it. Eva Robert's idea of it focussing attention on the victims as a group was by far the most common thread. The overwhelming majority predicted that the group in the Priory was only the beginning. Others accused them of irresponsibly suggesting that their conclusion was what they thought should happen. All of a sudden, people were leaving these discussions, saying that something was going down on another site – maryshelley-fr.biz, and Stephanie managed to get on before it crashed. The same symbol was revolving, but around a ghoulish face. The rotation speed of the two were synchronised so that the face was always peering through or at the symbol. The word 'link' kept slowly forming out of computer generated dust followed by the same beautifully ordered crumbling back to dust. The comments flooded in, mostly claiming it was depicting 'Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.' The screen went black – crash.

*

Sam Gibson had received pretty sketchy information on Rory Davenport and Jason Goldman from the respective police authorities charged with investigating their disappearance. The latter had been initially more interesting because of his petty crime record, but apart from some of his friends claiming he had always talked about living and travelling abroad, there was very little to go on. Davenport however, had frequent comments about protest activities on his record. There was nothing too sinister in the various activities listed, and he had never been arrested, but to Sam's trained eye there was enough of a pattern of seeking out causes rather than fervently believing in them. He decided that he would check the electoral register going back a few years. People often dropped off the register if they didn't want to be found, but surrendering the vote was another matter for narcissistic philosophers. He struck lucky. Rory Davenport changed his name by deed poll to Cameron Hastings a couple of years ago, but had continued to live his public life under his birth name, until he disappeared. This double identity, followed by the erasure of the old personality definitely warranted further investigation.

*

Forensics had verified that there were only five different types of DNA on the Priory corpse. It had taken longer than planned because they had to be exceptionally meticulous in case they missed some tiny piece of evidence to the contrary. The initial profiles were passed to Ben Adams, and the accompanying report was designated as complete until further samples were provided for comparison. Adams seized upon the potential link to Rory Davenport and asked Sam to suspend his foraging for the living version, Cameron Hastings.

"It's a punt Sam, but I think it's worth contacting Davenport's parents and ask them for something which would give us his DNA. If there is a match with one of the five on this report, we would have a genuine starting point. Why he became Cameron Hastings would be the next logical step." Sam agreed and set off for Glasgow.

*

Bradstock breezed into Renton's office.

"What do you make of this symbol stuff Jack? Oh hello Eva, I am really glad you are able to help us out again. It looks as if detective science is entering a new era with this case. We are being led by the nose and from behind the cart. I want to review what other options we have to negotiate with this Frank character." Before Renton could reply Eva Roberts took the question.

"I have already said to Jack that we should be very careful about how we interact with Frank. He's been rebuffed once by us, he has then adapted – something which I feel he doesn't like to do. He may be happy to adapt to his own altered perception, but I doubt that it extends to falling in line with others, and therefore conceding control. He is extremely decisive and proactive in prosecution of his plan. If we're going to explore other ways of getting him to pull back from embarrassing us, we should skirt around the subject first. He initially wanted to use us, and we understandably could not afford the public to see us as complicit in any way with a killer. He has accepted that for now, and I honestly don't think embarrassing us is a major part of his objective. He has a totally different agenda, of which our embarrassment has now become but a consequence. Let's think very hard before we engage with him on this again. We might well be better off demonstrating that we're just going about our job in the normal way at present."

Renton nodded as if he had been part of this cerebral analysis.

"Yes," said Bradstock, "you have a point. However, I don't want to play his game to the stage where we are either driven by working to bulletins from the world's amateur sleuths, or procrastinate while copycats emerge from the internet. Jack, bring me up to date with where the evidence takes us, and we will revisit the communication issue tomorrow."

Renton mused over how he was going to tell Bradstock about his delegation of the evidence angle to Ben Adams. He decided on the simple way – and just blurted it out. Before Bradstock's look of consternation turned to something even less pleasant, Eva interjected.

"This fits with what I was saying earlier. This case will of course rely upon the evidence, but getting to that evidence will in turn be at least partly reliant upon the communication aspect. At present, Frank is in control of that process. I found it refreshing that D.C.I. Renton had already split his resource between communication and evidence analysis before I knew what we were dealing with, impressive forward thinking." Renton was amazed at the response.

"Good work Jack, it is this kind of initiative which will help the Force shed its 'plod' image. Bloody good work!"

Eva continued. "This brings me to motive. We haven't had a chance to brainstorm this as yet, because there is precious little evidence to go on, and everything is happening at a whirlwind pace, courtesy of Frank. We should at least explore this before we get another missive from the Intranet or by phone."

Bradstock nodded vigorously but said he wanted to catch up on the evidence even if it was skimpy. He excused himself and sought out Ben Adams. When he'd disappeared in the direction of forensics, Renton turned to Eva and burst out laughing. She joined in and this attracted Stephanie from her desk. Renton controlled his mirth and suggested they retire to the canteen for a coffee. "Bradstock won't look for us there, and it's a good place to think, instead of relying on Google for everything."

*

The front desk put a call through to Ben Adams, telling him it was from a hiking boot stockist, asking for Sam.

"Ok, I'll take it." The female voice said she was responding to Sam's request to check their sales records for size 9-11 brown 'Atecana' boots.

"These are highly specialised boots made for desert terrain. They are very expensive and we only stock them to orders placed. We have sold only nineteen pairs in the last three years. Two of them fall into the size bracket you are looking at. One pair was sold in 2018 – size 10, and the other was in June, earlier this year, and was size 9. I have the name for the buyer of the latter pair, as the payment was by credit card. His name is Douglas Sheering and he has bought other products from us. The other pair was a cash purchase and by a woman. Apparently she did not give her name, saying her husband was going abroad for longer than the guarantee period, so it wasn't important." Adams thanked her and left a note on Sam's desk.

Having thrown around various ideas on possible motives, the trio were heading back to Renton's office when his mobile rang to inform him the hotline LED was flashing. He got there just as it stopped. He wasn't sure whether he should be annoyed, but he didn't feel the least bit tetchy. Stephanie went back to her desk to catch up on the internet threads. The LED lit up again.

"An interesting debate, don't you think? What is your leaning?"

This was unusual, he was not normally asked for his opinion by Frank. The tracer team asked Renton to drag it out as much as he could.

"Well, I don't really have any theory about the stuff on the internet, other than there are a lot of lunatics out there. I hope you don't create copycats in trying to get some message to certain people. That's what this is about isn't it?"

"Very good Inspector. I certainly do not want distraction of that kind, but neither of us can predict public reaction with any accuracy. I will be posting after we conclude this chat, I will address that aspect. However, there can be no guarantee that my influence will be sustained."

Eva Roberts pushed a note to Renton and he put the question to Frank. "Surely if our investigation was seen to make progress that would help in getting your message across to whoever needs to hear it."

They were already passed the fifteen second threshold and yet Frank replied.

"Indeed it would, but I am not one of those individuals for whom attention is the driver, and you should not make that error of judgement. I will not be caught; at least that is not in my plan. Perhaps we should return to the internet debate. You should have focussed on the face and the Alpha-Omega link, and look to whatever it may be linked. Your tracer people should have had time to at least pinpoint an area from which this call is coming. Don't neglect the discussion threads, because there are clues there, even if the people don't know they have stumbled upon them."

Renton was cut off, but the trace was successful. The coordinates tied up with the main car park in Chopwell Woods, a few miles west of Newcastle. They set off immediately, and were accompanied by armed response officers. They were in unmarked vehicles without klaxons. When they arrived, entering the car park at an appropriately sedate speed so as not to cause undue attention, they found only a handful of vehicles. Renton told everyone to stay put until they could assess the situation from their two cars. Adams had joined them but Bradstock had decided to make some calls to London for updates on the Intranet repairs. Refinement of the GPS coordinates was patched through to Renton, and they indicated a location just off the actual car park, in a spot where the forestry commission had done recent work. An approximately circular area where trees had been felled was indicated by Renton's mobile display. There was no one in sight of this clearing. The armed response duo joined Renton and Adams to investigate. Their cautious approach to the exact point revealed nothing but an abandoned mobile phone, resting on one of the felled trees, amongst a pile which had been stripped and prepared for onward shipment. They pondered the next move, considering the possibility that picking it up could trigger unknown consequences. The tracer team called Renton again with the number of Frank's unregistered mobile from which he had made the call. They backed off and conducted another short conference. They could not agree on what to do next. A few minutes passed and Renton received yet another call from the tracer team leader, who was still at the station.

"Sir, we took a further call on your behalf. It was him. He indicated that he knew we would have traced his previous call and probably had the number by now. He says if you call it from there he will answer."

Renton got everyone to back off even further. The eerie silence was pierced by a ringtone of Land of Hope and Glory. It just kept ringing until Renton heard he was being diverted to another number. He was about to lose patience with the others, who were all talking at once, when he heard Frank. "Shh, it's him."

"I am not too far from where you are at present, but that is unimportant. I needed to test your methodology. I am disappointed about the armed response company you keep. I was prepared to leave some information which would prove useful if you had come alone. Perhaps you had better consider this in future."

This call was ended within ten seconds. Adams suggested that they really should take the phone from the log, as it was important evidence. It had already been called and nothing sinister had happened, so he volunteered to retrieve it, placing it in an evidence pouch. As they returned to their vehicles they met a group of three walkers and asked if they had seen anyone in the immediate vicinity of the clearing when they had passed it earlier. One of them nodded nervously as he eyed the weapons on display.

Renton asked, "Can you describe them?" They looked at each other, and after a few moments agreed that a couple with an Alsatian dog had parked their car and taken the dog along the path toward the clearing. They also remembered several cyclists riding through that section towards the 'drop-offs.' Adams then asked what they meant by drop-offs. The three of them offered to explain. Renton interjected. "This is important, take your time. I need your names and contact numbers, in case we have to speak to you again."

"Atkinson, Alan Atkinson," one replied, "I live in Highfield." He showed Adams his mobile number.

"My name is Terry Featherstone and I'm from Rowlands Gill." Adams turned to the third walker.

"And you Sir?" Don Jameson asked what it was all about. Adams said they could not disclose that but it was crucial that they found the person they were seeking. He wrote down Jameson's landline number and asked again about the cyclists. Alan Atkinson said there was a course where the bikers rode at speed over the edge of a depression and dropped quite a distance while trying to control the bike.

"It's pretty dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. The kids are fearless, but even some of the older riders amaze me with their stunts."

Terry Featherstone concurred. "They do twirls and all kind of crazy jumps. Good to watch if you aren't their parents."

They thanked the walkers and asked them to point out the car of the couple with the dog. Renton asked Adams if he and Stephanie could make their way to the drop-off course while he and Eva waited by the couple's car. The young bikers couldn't help them, but the people with the dog said they saw a man coming out of the clearing as they passed by on the path. He was described as wearing running kit and sunglasses. He looked about thirty-five, slim but muscular. He seemed to be taking a toilet break, and they thought no more of it. The police contingent quickly got into their cars and checked as many of the known exits from the woods as they could access, but it was to no avail. He had eluded them.

# Chapter 5

Sam Gibson was already in cruise control on the stretches of the M-74 which were not congested. He had his collection of items from Rory Davenport's mother who was now a widow. Sam wanted to get forensics on the job as soon as possible. Elsie Davenport had no idea her son had changed his name and the detective was intrigued as to why he had been leading a double life. He had used up all of his evidence pouches for the most promising items and the remaining articles were placed carefully into a cardboard box. Sam called Ben Adams to give him an approximate time of arrival, and asked him to prime Donoghue's people for a host of samples.

*

Stephanie called everyone to her screen. "He eluded us in the woods but take a look at this."

As the group gathered around her desk she used the zoom to set the optimum detail. There was a photo of Renton, Adams, Eva Roberts, the armed guards and herself speaking with the three walkers. This shot seemed to have been taken from the direction of the clearing. The message simply read – 'Lost Opportunity, I had a present for you.' The group's fascination with just how close he must have been to their position was interrupted by a uniformed officer shouting to Renton.

"You need to come down to reception Sir; there's been a hell of a commotion. We've had to lock a man up." When he reached the cell, it was bizarre to say the least. A man had pressed the entry buzzer and said he had been asked to deliver some evidence to Inspector Renton. The desk sergeant pressed the switch to allow him entry, having alerted his two colleagues. The man had walked to the desk, deposited an envelope next to the nearest officer and turned to walk out. The desk sergeant motioned to the others to grab him, stating that he had to register whatever was in the envelope. When the man refused to comply they strong-armed him back to the counter. By this time they were very concerned about the contents of the envelope. The man did not struggle and when the officers placed a registration form in front of him he looked at it carefully. Then he put it down, picked up the envelope and tore it open. He tipped it over and a finger rolled out on to the desk. The officers reacted quickly and got him handcuffed and into an empty cell. The most bizarre element in Renton's mind was the incredible likeness of the detainee to the ghoulish face he had been so entranced with, as it peered through the Alpha-Omega symbol.

In the flesh he looked just as terminally ill as he had on the video, even though that was a computer generated image. It was virtually impossible to get him to speak. He just kept on repeating that he had evidence for Inspector Renton. He smiled as he said this, and the multitude of facial wrinkles he already had, puckered grotesquely and seemed as if they were starting to peel the skin from his face. In other respects he looked like a fairly young man. His upright stance, healthy looking hair and athletic build confused Renton, who asked all of the officers to exit the cell.

"He may have some kind of contagious disease. We need to get a medical presence here pronto." They sent for Greg Watson.

While they waited, both Eva and Stephanie confirmed the likeness to the character in Frank's video, and remarked how sad the man in the cell now looked. The smile had gone and he wore the expression of a little boy whose mother was about to scold him for walking on the new carpet with muddy boots. Amongst all of the heightened emotion, the finger had almost been forgotten. Renton asked the desk sergeant to return it to the envelope using a tissue, and give it to Ben Adams, with an appropriately graphic explanation.

The excitement had pretty much eclipsed the analysis of the photo of the walkers in Chopwell Woods, and the fact that the LED was flashing again.

"Shit," said one of the tracer guys, "somebody get Renton now; it might be Frank again."

The flashing LED was extinguished before they could get the Boss back to his office. It was almost three-quarters of an hour before it lit up again.

"You should have your present by now. You should also have met the 'Link.' Please treat him with respect as he has been a very loyal assistant. He is precious, even though he may seem a little slow, but at least he is at peace now. You must not press charges against him, as he was only carrying out my instructions. He would not have needed to come to the station if you had come to the woods alone. He has suffered more than enough already in his young life. Becoming one of the living dead has eased his pain. You could have gleaned some of this from the threads on the internet, but you may have been too busy. Your tracer people will be having difficulty with this call, courtesy of a neat little wireless jamming technique I have engaged. So, what now? I have not posted the photo from the woods anywhere else yet. That will happen later. Let us see where the finger points first. None of you are truly aware of how many living dead are out there. Consequently, in order to assist you with how the Alpha-Omega will be employed, I can tell you that you are in a position to save lives. The five who make up the Priory corpse were punished for good reason. The living dead are different; they are the other side of the coin and will be given release. The message will eventually become emblazoned in the minds of the public, as it should be. It is only a question of the mechanics, and in that respect you are trailing the internet community. Even if you fail, the internet will promote the message, and progress to solving what you no doubt will still see as a crime. There are no further subjects in imminent danger, unless you fail to free my friend. He is only guilty of delivering the envelope, without knowing what it contained. By all means put a tail on him, I will never see him again and he does not know how to contact me. His demons have been wiped away, and he is at peace."

*

Bradstock rushed into the office and asked Eva Roberts and Stephanie to give him time with Renton, who had almost forgotten he was around.

"Jack, I am sorry, but these clowns who are trying to patch up the leaky Intranet have made absolutely no progress. The have all but admitted defeat, so I must return and oversee recruitment of more expertise. Can you give me a summary of what I have missed by continually being on the bloody telephone?"

A deep intake of breath provided the fraction of thinking time to avoid giving Bradstock any glimmer of a reason to stay.

"Do you want the short version Sir, or the one line alternative?" His confident manner helped Sir Nigel to plump for the one liner. "Ok," said Renton, "we have made decent progress in our dialogue with Frank, and he has even agreed to give us information ahead of posting on the internet, and we have new, relevant DNA to look at." This was good enough to get Bradstock to pick up the phone and inform the poor sods in London of his expected descent into their midst.

*

At last the tests had conclusively proven that there were only five sets of DNA from inside the coffin. Donoghue had been afraid that there may have been remnants from the manufacturer's craftsmen, but it seemed as if either they or Frank had given it a very thorough cleansing. Sam Gibson reminded Donoghue of the urgency of testing Rory Davenport's DNA. While they were alone Renton suggested to Eva Roberts that they shelved any effort to second guess the motive for now.

"We have to heed what Frank said. He has convinced me that he'll kill again if we give him cause. I want to have another conversation with his 'assistant' to ascertain whether we can let him go." Eva agreed and asked to join him.

Ben Adams put his head into the office and said he was going to ask the walkers in the photo to come in and recap their time in the woods.

"I can't help feeling that if Frank was going to get the poor soul in the cells to give you the finger, he wanted that as his prize photograph. If he was so close to us, maybe the picture will jog the memories of the 'last of the summer wine' walking group." Renton nodded in agreement and led Eva to the cells. As they entered the man looked up and smiled. He didn't appear to be distressed in any way.

"Hello again, I'm sorry but I don't know your name. I'd like to hear your name before we have a chat about what to do next. Can you tell me your name?" It was such an effort for the young man to respond without stuttering.

"F- Friend, that is my – my name. I have information for the Inspector."

"Yes, I'm the Inspector, and I want to thank you very much for helping us. Did you know what the information was?

"No, I did it for Friend and he told me it was only for the Inspector."

"Who is Friend?"

"Everybody is Fr-Friend for me. It is important to have all Friends." Eva asked if she could take a turn and was given the nod.

"Have you always had Friend?"

"No, Friend only helped me after I was sick."

"Oh, were you very sick?"

"Yes, terrible sick, horrible sick, always sick."

"Didn't you go to hospital to see what was wrong with you?"

"Hospital did not know this sickness, but Friend always knew"

"How long have you known Friend?"

"All of the time."

"All of your life?"

"No. All of the time."

They both noticed a tear trickle down the man's cheek, and his chest began to heave. He still smiled and murmured in a low voice.

"This is my life. Friend knew me all of the time." Renton returned the smile and held the man's hand while he comforted him by asking what he wanted.

"Do you want to leave now and go back to see Friend?"

"Friend will not be there, other friends need him. I can stay here to help the Inspector." Eva asked if he would like something to eat, and the first unrestrained joy came to his face.

"Yes, I like chocolate." They decided to keep him there until Frank called again, which they felt must be imminent.

Sam Gibson studied the message from the Atecana boot stockist who had responded. It looked promising, but he also wanted to check with the other two. He drew blanks, as they had not sold any for a long time and decided to stop carrying stock. He reported this to Adams and it produced a frown.

"Hang on a minute Sam - I think we might be missing something right under our noses. Let's check this out with the Boss." They asked Renton if anyone had noticed the footwear of the man in the cell.

"Well I haven't, why would I....oh shit, you're thinking of the footprints at the Priory aren't you? The poor guy is in such a pitiful state we never even glanced at his feet. Let's do it now. It seems rather obvious now that as Frank's assistant, he could be involved with the coffin. I suppose we were a little obsessed with the finger he brought in, and his difficulty in articulating whatever he wants to say."

He was wearing brown boots, and when they asked him to take them off, he showed the first signs of aggression. He backed into a corner and brandished a fist.

"My boots are always my boots." Adams lifted his own foot to expose the sole and coaxed the man to copy him.

"We just want to see the bottom of your boots; we don't want to take them from you." Slowly he raised his foot and the wear pattern looked as if there could be a match with Donoghue's prints. Adams was about to call the forensics chief when Renton asked the man straight out if he had helped his Friend with the coffin at the Priory.

"Yes. I always help Friend."

"Did you help Friend with making the body in the coffin?" The man looked puzzled.

"Coffin was empty."

"Oh I see, and how did you know that it was empty?"

"There was no lid. It was easy to see." Renton told Adams to make his call to Donoghue.

"We still need Clive to take a photo and make a cast, even if we let him keep the boots on. We should take our friend here to forensics." It was a relief that they had some concrete reason to keep the man in custody for now. He seemed happy enough and they were worried that he could not fend for himself, having told them that Frank was moving on.

*

Ben Adams and Sam Gibson settled the Chopwell Woods walkers down with a cup of tea. Adams asked them to think hard about anyone else they had passed on their route that day.

"Don't just confine this to the area around this photo where we spoke to you on that occasion."

Alan Atkinson and Terry Featherstone were deep in thought when Don Jameson pointed to the picture and raised a query.

"Are we going to be on the news or in the papers?"

Adams smiled and replied, "I would think so. Do you have computers?" Two of them nodded. "In that case just keep checking these websites and blogs. Unfortunately this case is being discussed all over the world and we expect this photograph to appear amongst the posts at some time. I can't say more than that. Now please take your time in reconstructing your walk as any little detail could help us."

Adams then produced a still of the Alpha-Omega symbol and the computer image of the man in the Atecana boots.

"The photo was obviously taken close to where we were talking and we're led to believe that a man with this likeness was also in the vicinity. We'll leave you to chat about it. Just press the buzzer when you are ready to tell us anything." Don Jameson had a request.

"Is there any chance of a sandwich or even a biscuit? It's near my lunchtime and if we're going to be here for a while the hunger pangs won't really help me to concentrate." Gibson said he would see to it and get another pot of tea sent in.

After almost an hour Adams was alerted and they re-entered the interview room. Atkinson said that there was something familiar about the man in the still from the video, but they couldn't agree on precisely where they may have passed him that day.

"I do remember passing a man and thinking he must have had some kind of accident which affected the skin on his face, but I can't place him at a particular point in the woods. I think it was before we bumped into the bikers."

Terry Featherstone was sure it was after the bikes had passed them. "I almost got knocked over by one of them. It was after that when you remarked about the man's skin. I didn't see him close up because I was still looking out for the bikers coming back past us again." Alan Atkinson eventually agreed, and in fact they all then recalled an additional lone biker coming past them before the reckless kids returned. Alan claimed he wasn't riding a mountain bike like the youngsters, but he was wearing a helmet and an orange waterproof jacket. Because of his dark glasses it was not easy to see much of his face, but they guessed he was about mid-thirties. They were now fairly confident that they could take Adams to an approximate area in which they encountered both of these individuals.

*

The first real breakthrough came when Rory Davenport's DNA was a match for the arms of the body from the Priory, and therefore by deduction, the 22 year-old armless corpse on the second video. It was now a priority to track his double life in recent years to find a connection with a possible motive and any of the other victims. They now knew that the finger delivered in the envelope was not taken from Rory Davenport, because the Priory corpse - and therefore Davenport's fingers were all present.

Adams and Gibson pondered whether it was from either the legless body or the one without genitalia. It could have been from a totally unrelated person, but they both agreed to push on with tracking the five shortlisted 18 year-old missing persons from Manchester and London.

*

Paradoxically, Renton was relieved to take another call from Frank.

"I have to ask about Friend. You have not released him."

"No, that's because we are worried about him. He claims that you are moving on to help other 'Friends' and that he will not see you now. He's a vulnerable individual and just putting him out on the street would seem to be callous. Strangely, he claims to be able to help us, but we believe this is what you have told him."

"Well done, I think he can help you. However please spare me the concern you have for him; that is a little late, nobody cared for him when he really needed help."

"We didn't know him then, we've only just met him. What's his name?" There was a distinct change in Frank's demeanour and Eva Roberts urged Renton to ease off a bit.

"Do not pursue this. His name is Friend, as is mine when we are together. His birth name is irrelevant and painful for him. Nobody ever cared for him when he used his birth name. Do not call him by any other name than Friend. I hope you enjoyed the photo in the woods; it is now time to post it to the net. You would be well advised to nurture Friend without digging into his past." The call ended.

The tracer people had once again thought they tracked him, but the GPS coordinates just began bouncing around in a random fashion indicating he was in many places at the same time. They decided they should back off until they had a better plan to propose. Eva Roberts admitted that Frank's behaviour pattern was confusing her.

"There doesn't appear to be a clear objective at this stage with respect to his contact with the police, which is in total contrast to the internet. I get the feeling that we're being primed for the next phase." Renton scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"I haven't got a clue what he wants, other than to keep the story in the news. It's just as well I can resort to looking at evidence to keep me occupied until he does make a mistake."

*

Adams sent Sam Gibson to Manchester and London in pursuit of direct leads on the five missing eighteen year-old candidates as possible owners of the finger. His experience told him that standing over those officers who had promised information was necessary, if urgency was paramount. Ben Adams looked at his watch and realised he was going to be late in arriving in Chopwell Woods to meet the walkers again. He called in to Renton's office to tell him he was not hopeful as there were no uniformed officers available.

"Why don't you take 'Friend' with you? In fact I'll come with you as well. Eva, can you stay in case Frank calls again?" She was happy to do so, but betrayed the same sceptical expression as Adams regarding Friend.

"What?" said Renton, "what do we have to lose? He helps Frank. Come on Ben let's go, I need to get out of this office and get some fresh air. I want to call in and see my son anyway. I was a bit rough on him when he rang the other day."

# Chapter 6

The Amazon Rain Forest

2017 had been the most difficult year of his life. He needed a complete change, but not a challenge. God knows he had already been challenged to breaking point. He now had to set the challenge for others to undertake. The environment did not seem as hostile as he had imagined. His guide was a German-born explorer with decades of experience in ferreting out indigenous tribes, hitherto largely unknown in the civilised world. Navigating one of the smaller tributaries of the mighty river was tricky in the small boat with an outboard motor. This stretch was particularly dangerous so they killed the motor and took to the oars.

According to Kurt Eisel, the perils ranged from piranha, to caiman, to blowpipes from unseen sources. Eisel was fluent in many Spanish dialects, and even more in those of tree dwellers. This was one of Frank's most desired criteria in choosing his companion. Interaction with simple people was the kernel of his self-prescribed road to recovery. He believed the study of a way of life in which virtually every activity was borne out of necessity, would be therapeutic. It was hoped it would help obliterate the wider world of layered distractions. He was almost correct.

This particular tribe was different in many ways and unique in others. The hushed activity which changed his life was Cunecao. Many cultures in the Amazon basin indulged in substance addiction, but Eisel claimed that these people – he knew them as the Manakalia – had a monopoly on the practice. It was a jealously guarded secret, and had probably only stayed that way because of the extreme difficulty in nurturing a plant which had roots imbued with very special properties.

For centuries, these people had used Pannevava root as part of their medicinal armoury against all kinds of natural and predatory threat. The knowledge had been passed through generations of Shamens in order to minimise the risk of it falling into the hands of their enemies. The Manakalia were one of many protected tribes. Despite the burgeoning juggernaut Brazilian economy, mainly driven by timber exports and decentralisation of the population, preservation of such tribes became enshrined in the strategic progression. The Manakalia in particular attracted government support for their isolation from the outside world. Kurt Eisel was the solitary exception, at the request of the Chief Elder of the tribe. There was a story behind this very unusual request. Frank asked Eisel how this had come about.

"On one of my earlier encounters with the Manakalia, over twenty years ago, and before the present exclusion policy, I had an accident. I was bitten by a huge spider and my ankle quickly turned dark purple. One of the Elders summoned the Shamen, and he applied a paste every couple of hours. The pain was excruciating and I was told that I had been hallucinating most of the night. They were adamant that I would have died without this paste. As each day passed I got stronger. During my recuperation, a young boy had contracted an infection and they said he had only days to live. Although I could not be certain what infection he had, I had brought my own stash of antibiotics, and I asked them if I could treat the boy. The Shamen wasn't happy, but the Elders decided the boy had no other hope. After three days he began to recover and I explained that the course of antibiotics had to be completed for the treatment to be successful. Another objection from the Shamen was overturned as apparently nobody had ever survived this illness. When the boy had fully recovered, I was treated like a God. My subsequent visits were like the return of the prodigal son. Over time they must have discussed the subject many times, and I was eventually elected to the chosen few who could participate in Cunecao. The Pannevava root is very difficult to find, and a person has to have done some very special service for the tribe to be considered for this ritual. Subsequent election to Cunecao involves unanimity from the vote of the Elders and a rather dangerous test of faith."

Frank was fascinated with this account. "So was it as special as they made it out to be?"

"Absolutely, but it wasn't really a normal medicine, it was an escape for the mind."

Frank said that he didn't understand. Eisel informed him it was a peculiar type of narcotic.

"It's like nothing I've ever heard of before. Pannevava itself is used to treat almost all ailments for everyone in the tribe, but Cunecao involves other ingredients. The root is ground up in a pot and allowed to dry out in the sun. The juice of a local berry is added to the dry powdered root and heated until it solidifies. This is in itself a treatment for certain fevers, but only for the Elite. Unauthorised use or appropriation of this compound is punishable by death. Those convicted of this most serious crime are entombed in a separate burial ground to the rest of the tribe. Even after death they are outcasts.

"The Elders told me that an accidental discovery finally turns this compound into Cunecao. Because they have lived in trees for an eternity, they have always suffered casualties during electromagnetic storms. Many of these caused fatalities. An observation was made over five hundred years ago, and at first it was treated with suspicion, but it was in the fullness of time, proven beyond doubt. If some high-ranking official within the tribe was authorised to be treated with the root powder and berry juice compound, and was then close enough to a lightning bolt to receive even a mild but non-fatal shock, a very strange effect was conferred to them. Pretty much all of their scarred memories were erased. This is however not a completely temporary effect. The process seems to take many stored experiences from the brain, but although the good ones gradually return, the darker ones remain submerged. I can testify to this, as I have experienced it myself. They didn't tell me of the odds of being killed in this practice before I agreed to volunteer; apparently one in three become charred effigies, and are erected in the surrounding jungle to act as sentries to ward off predators. I hope you aren't going to ask to take this trip because they won't allow it, and I am already risking arrest by the government if they learn of your presence in the Manakalia village."

Frank began to think of how the lightning phase could be controlled. He was pretty much convinced this could be done by twenty-first century shock therapy.

"Relax, I'll just ask if I can take the natural ingredients with me."

"I advise that we talk to the Elders about this. I will explain to them that you have recurring stomach pains with the foods from the forest, and they will hopefully prescribe the root and berry mixture, as it cures this as well as many minor ailments. If they accept this because you are my friend, I will then ask if you can take some to cover the rest of our journey. I will, if they agree, be sworn to pledge that there would be no revelation of the method of progression to Cunecao, even though they trust me. Because the conversation will be in their tongue, you must show no interest in what I am requesting. I must stress just how important this is because they won't hesitate to kill us if they think I've betrayed them."

The quantity given freely to the care of Eisel was judged to be sufficient to cover the remainder of the trip and no more. When the two of them departed, Frank told the Elders he was feeling better, which was a complete lie. Eisel had warned him that the compound would make him throw up continuously for a few hours, and he would believe death was imminent.

He had said, "You'll wish you'd never taken it, but it will pass. Despite feeling unwell you should thank them for the gift of their medicine. Then we get the hell out of here."

It all went smoothly until the son of one of the Elders had asked if Frank would let him keep his digital camera until their next visit. Frank protested, but then Eisel intervened.

"Listen, they don't know the relative value of your camera, otherwise he wouldn't have asked for it. You wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't shown him the pictures in the first place. Chalk it up to experience. They have given me almost one hundred grams of the Pannevava compound to treat your stomach condition, and that is worth a small fortune to them. I have to come back here, so my reputation must be maintained. Just give the boy the damned camera."

On reflection Frank thought he was getting the better of the bargain. He had never thought it possible to have such a tool in his possession. This inadvertent meeting with the Manakalia was the key to the problem he had to share with the world. He could begin to heal the unfortunates; those who had become his mission in life. Experimentation was a price worth paying to release his friends from the plague of their nightmares.

In the intervening years he had employed the best chemical technologists he could find and trust. Success in synthesising the Pannevava root came at a tediously slow pace, unlike the experiments to check its potency in converting to Cunecao. The berry constituent showed analytical similarity to gooseberries - however the Pantothenic Acid content was many times higher. In addition to this the reaction with the root enhanced the properties of the finished compound. Pantothenic Acid was commonly known as Vitamin B5, and in small doses is thought to help the nervous system communicate with the brain. Excessive doses cause a number of side effects, including depression, diarrhoea, low energy, memory loss and nausea. The 'Manakalia concentrate' was many times more potent than the regulated dosage level of Pantothenic Acid, and that was without the enhancement by the Pannevava root. When this cocktail was ingested and the human body was then subjected to controlled electric shock treatment, the results were astonishing.

The two chemists proved to be unwilling but effective guinea pigs. Frank gave them a choice – research with a generous reward, or termination. They both suffered increasing dosage and as their memory was effectively wiped, they became totally compliant. They died before Frank had optimised the dosage, so he reluctantly recruited some of the unfortunates he wanted to help. Eventually, the finessing process yielded a relatively safe procedure.

He and Eisel were now the only people outside the Manakalia tribe to know the secret, and Eisel did not know of the synthetic version, which was much more powerful than the original. Frank was ready to engage the world with his obsession.

Having possession of such a new, powerful narcotic did not ring any alarm bells with Frank, as his ability to reason beyond his mission was disabled. He failed to connect the import of the world-wide focus he was trying to create for his cause, with the potential revelation of the secret of Cunecao. If and when he was apprehended by the police, the practice may be unintentionally revealed, and the market potential assessed. Kurt Eisel could become a dangerous and resourceful foe. Frank was oblivious to this in his advance from a laboratory recipe to the potential of an industrial process of manufacture. He was simply driven by how many thousands of lost individuals he could convert to Friends in the future.

# Chapter 7

Renton, Adams and Friend approached the walkers at the clearing. On arriving there they detected unease in the trio. They seemed to be evaluating Friend before they had been introduced to him. Friend smiled as he was informed of their names and that they could help in pinpointing the location from which the photo had been taken. Then Adams suddenly realised Friend had not been shown the picture. As soon as this occurred he started marching away from the clearing. Renton was first to react.

"Wait Friend, we need to go together." It made no difference and they simply followed. After a mere fifty yards or so, Alan Atkinson shook his head.

"We've never been down this path. We couldn't have passed him along this route."

Twenty yards further on and Friend stopped and pointed back toward the clearing. When Adams checked the view it was evident that this was the point from which the photo was taken. Renton asked where he was when this picture was shot.

"This is where Best Friend took the picture of us. You had an envelope for me, the Inspector, but Best Friend came back to tell you not to give it to me until another time didn't he?" Friend nodded. "Can you take us to where he told you this?" He nodded again and set off.

He led them around a dense thicket and re-joined a pathway which Atkinson did recognise, and said this would take them to an intersection with the route they had taken on the day in question. They duly arrived at this point and Friend positioned himself on a slope, obscuring a route marker. All three walkers nodded and asked him to move to one side of the marker, and when Friend sat down on the bankside it came back to them.

"Are you absolutely sure?" said Adams, "take all the time you need." The response was firm and they recalled that they had probably been distracted by keeping an eye out for the rogue cyclists, as Terry Featherstone had first thought. The group decided to search the immediate area. Friend seemed confused.

After ten minutes or so, they were about to give up when Renton asked Friend if he had the finger with him at this point. He nodded and pointed back up the main path. Renton gestured for him to proceed in that direction. He led them to a point which was less than a hundred yards further into the woods than the point at which the photo was taken. Adams proceeded to the photo point and snapped the group, then asked all of them except Friend to reassemble at the original photo point. He took a further picture, as he wanted both views on the evidence board. They returned to Friend, who had already recovered a toe from somewhere in the vicinity. He gave it to Renton, who put on a pair of plastic gloves to cradle it until he could retrieve an evidence pouch from the car. Before he set off Friend made him aware of an inked ten digit number on the underside. It was barely visible after lying in the undergrowth and attracting attention from insects. More scavenging by the group produced no more interesting finds, and Adams thanked Atkinson, Featherstone and Jameson for their cooperation before returning to the station.

*

Renton insisted that Cousins should support his decision to keep the match of Rory Davenport's DNA with one of the victims within the investigation team.

"Sir, we've worked hard to get this information and we need every possible advantage over Frank that we can muster. He doesn't know we have this lead and I want it to stay that way as long as possible. He believes we're totally dependent on his charitable hand-outs, so let's go along with him for now. I know Old Nige would love to broadcast something which shows the force in a better light, but this isn't a P.R. exercise – it's a murder investigation." Cousins said he would sleep on this and call him back. This only served to make Renton nervous. "Frank told us we had the opportunity to save lives if we demonstrated respect for his assistance, and more bodies if we didn't. I believe him, and so does Eva Roberts. We can review the disclosure of Davenport regularly. This 'Friend', who gave us the finger and now the toe, could be a crucial buffer in dealing with Frank. The number on the toe must mean something, as there was no identifying mark on the finger. I want to see if Frank asks about it, after all he photographed us in the woods when his intention was for Friend to give me both of these items together. He was close to us then, and we don't know that he wasn't watching us today." Cousins relented and Renton breathed a sigh of relief.

*

Sam Gibson had not obtained the positive lead he was looking for in London or Manchester. His consolation rested in those on his list which could be eliminated for various reasons, such as skin or hair colour from photographs, which were at odds with the body in question. His original list had relied almost exclusively on written reports. He was left with only one contender, but this was not evidence. He needed to find Reginald Powell. His parents could offer nothing which could clinch a match with the DNA profile of the legs from the composite corpse. He asked if they would be prepared to submit swabs with their own DNA so that Donoghue could check for any filial link, or as a disqualifier. They were happy to help in any way they could. Sam left Manchester trying to think about where he would look next if these tests proved negative. He conceded that it could be more productive to look for the identities of the other three 'less important' contributors to the corpse. After all they were only less important to Frank, not to the police.

There was unease that Frank had not been in audio contact as regularly as anticipated. However he had been busy on the web. The original photograph of the police in Chopwell Woods had been posted on a few sites and a more recent one with the walkers and Friend. There was no comment to say he had taken the pictures himself and the dialogue was directed more to the admission that Friend was indeed the owner of the face which peered through the Alpha-Omega symbol, and that he was helping the police. These posts generated a new rush of threads and Renton suggested to Eva Roberts that they should filter some of these into groups.

"This may be what he wants – to periodically stimulate interest of anyone who has the curiosity of mind to 'solve' the riddle and therefore the mission he's on. In this way he may be trying to build up involvement of site visitors in the same way sites like Facebook did, before unveiling his cause."

"Inspector Renton, I'm impressed. If a self-confessed cynic like you can be convinced that profiling is an important tool then there is hope for all of us. Let's get started right away."

Stephanie joined them and was much better than either of them in constructing an analytical database from the rapidly increasing threads. She also appended a 'site type' to the filter because some were much more popular than others. She effectively told the two of them that she would complete the task in half the time if they weren't standing over her while jabbering about all manner of possible premature conclusions.

"How about getting me a coffee and doughnut Sir? You might fancy one yourself if you have nothing better to do. I'll let you know when I have this all set up."

Half an hour later the LED blinked ominously. "Renton."

"Good afternoon Inspector. I just wanted to let you know that there are some interesting discussions on the internet right now. They are in relation to the photos of your team in Chopwell Woods. Many bloggers are being rather unkind in assuming your approach to the case is positively Victorian. They can be forgiven for this because they don't know everything that you and I know, yet some of them are applying more lateral thinking to the situation than you have mustered so far. This is why I am calling, to see if you have questions. I may not be able to furnish detailed information on certain aspects but you can call me on this number and you will be redirected."

"I see. Well then, first things first – we aren't tracing this call. Does that give me more time to think laterally?"

"I'll know within a minute from you answering the call if there is tracer activity, so we have about eighteen seconds to see if our mutual trust is growing. It is an essential part of the script if I am to remain in contact with you. No need for countdown, I can confirm there is no trace activity. Fire away Inspector."

"I've decided to let you know we have both the finger and toe now, with the help of Friend. You'll know that we are going to run DNA tests for the evidence file and look for any match with other evidence related samples."

"That would be a very nice gesture if those appendages could be classed as evidence. If you recall, I said that Friend had 'presents' for you. I seriously doubt that you will find anything which will connect them to the case via forensic science. Detective work avails of such techniques for the benefit of the law, and safe conviction. Deduction is surely still the primary foundation which directs your case, and indeed directs those who offer this scientific back-up. The finger and the toe are not material to your investigation until much later in proceedings, but they are important. I repeat that you would be wise to heed some of the theories on the web. It is clear that my invitation to exercise your creativity in this respect is somewhat premature. I will call back another time."

"No, wait, I wanted to ask if..." The call was terminated. "Shit, I'm sorry Eva. I wanted to humour him before bombarding him with questions. It seems he's really intent on pushing us around until we join the rodents which follow the pied piper."

"I see it differently Jack; I don't think he is trying to show you in a bad light. He wants you to progress ahead of the pack. Perhaps he feels this is necessary for some dramatic revelation which is connected to his cause. His tone has become decidedly encouraging since the hostility he showed when you told him the hierarchy had vetoed two-way communication through the Intranet. I'm pretty confident that he believes you are trustworthy, as you have said you will protect Friend, and scrap the tracer programme. Be patient for now."

Stephanie had a first cut at sorting the internet threads which Frank had referred to, and she spread the various charts over Renton's desk.

"By far the most common remark is targeted at us Sir, and they range from sarcastic to scathing regarding the progress, or rather the lack of it. Another popular theme is the realisation that Frank has an 'insider' apparently helping us – Friend is being portrayed as the blind leading the blind. There are so many different angles being discussed it's hard to see why Frank persists with the items he posts. There's no standout thread which borders on any logical motive from our perspective, they all seem to identify with his cause without knowing what it is. It's all rather sickening." Eva Roberts picked up on the conversation between Renton and Frank.

"He didn't actually say that you should take note of the most popular threads, he merely remarked that there were many. He said that some comments could help us and I would expect him to be telling us this because they are the more obscure remarks. He is only using these sites as a means of keeping his cause in the news, and probably picking out those comments which demonstrate what he refers to as lateral thinking. He is not interested in what the average internet addict pumps out if it has no hallmarks of having been thoroughly considered." Renton had remained quiet, mulling over Frank's exact words.

"He quickly corrected me when I said the finger and toe were pieces of evidence, but admitted they were important. Surely this can only mean that they have no physical connection to either the composite corpse or those from which the parts were taken. They must be more related to his cause. He said they would become relevant later. His call was made in relation to the photos, not the 'presents' as he refers to them. I take your point Eva; we should look through the threads for insightful remarks about the two pictures, almost certainly taken by him. Let's try to pick out things which are common to both photos and others which are different – such as Friend is only in the second and the armed response boys were only in the first." Stephanie remarked that the analysis of the actual sites indicated that Frank had concentrated his posts on cruc-efiction.com and maryshelley-fr.biz Renton latched on to this immediately.

"Let's look through these first, if he posts there he must have a reason. I'm sure he originally posted on lots of sites, probably to achieve some kind of momentum, now he may feel he can be selective." Stephanie agreed and returned to her desk to narrow the analysis to only the two sites.

# Chapter 8

The media were making mischief with insinuation. Claims of malpractice were levelled against the police for detaining Friend without charging him with anything. Cousins had issued denials, explaining that he was merely helping with their enquiries. The Ping-Pong eventually drew Bradstock into the fray. He demanded chapter and verse on why Friend had not been charged with assisting Frank with the coffin. Despite repeated concern that Frank would react badly to this, Bradstock was unmoved. Renton became exasperated but was told to comply.

"Listen Jack," said Cousins, "I've exhausted all arguments with the Chief and technically he's right."

"He may be right but it's still the wrong decision and we both know it. I refuse to take responsibility for the direct consequences unless we can put him in a safe house for a while. We need breathing space to discuss this with Frank. We can tell the media that he's been released pending further investigation. If we're going to play everything by the book, we don't have proof yet that Friend has done anything unlawful. He has admitted to helping Frank with an empty coffin – so what would we charge him with? I'm sure the Crown Prosecution Service won't go near that even though Donoghue has declared a probable match of Friend's boots to the Priory prints."

"Ok, I'll try that angle on Bradstock. Let's hope the speculation prompts Frank to call you."

*

Sam Gibson began his missing persons search again, deciding on the head of the dark-skinned woman. He felt there was a better chance of identification with forensics having possession of the actual head. His confidence grew with each area he checked, no potential candidates had come up so far, and he believed the age, time of disappearance, and ethnicity trawl would ultimately throw up only a few names. Working late into the evening he ended up with a single name. Martha Blake had disappeared in strange circumstances. She had been married twice, once in her birthplace of Jamaica, and after a bitter divorce she had fled to England. After living with and working for her brother in London, she struck up a relationship with Robert Blake. They married after a short engagement, as he was called into service in Yemen, the latest Middle East state to attract U.N. ground troops for a peacekeeping mission. Gibson set off to speak with her brother.

*

The tension increased as the LED flickered at last. Renton picked up.

"You have a dilemma according to the media. I hope you will make a wise decision, even if it is a difficult one. You still have the option to let Friend go free. He will survive – it's in the plan."

"Now that the press has stirred the hornet's nest, our regulations will come under severe scrutiny. I could've let him go when you first suggested I should, but having declined to do that on compassionate grounds we have to proceed carefully. If you're sure he can get by on his own I'll push for his release. Can I ask a question related to our last conversation?"

"Be my guest."

"Why have you narrowed your posts to just a few sites, and two in particular?"

"An interesting observation; it makes me think that you are paying due attention to whatever I pass on to you. The answer is rather complicated, suffice it to say that this pattern of posting will continue for a while unless the sites I choose run into difficulty."

"I see." Renton gambled, "Although you said there were interesting threads under discussion, when I applied whatever lateral thinking capability I've got, most of the subject matter delivered nothing. However, the two sites I alluded to had some genuine thought-provoking statements and counter-arguments."

"Really, and what conclusions did you draw?"

"We're still assessing those we've listed. I'll engage with you when we complete the task; that is if you continue to call regularly."

"That is something you can rely upon Inspector. I leave you to your cerebral exercise." Renton heard the disconnection click.

*

Bradstock had conceded to common sense, rather than push the rule book in the direction of the Crown Prosecutor. When Friend was released it suddenly struck all officers who had met him that their own little problems were insignificant. The desk sergeant summed it up well as Friend smiled while pushing aside a tear.

"There's always someone worse off than you are, you don't have to look far today." Ben Adams wasn't the only one who noticed the emotional retreat of Jack Renton to his office. He quietly asked the others to give him some time alone. After a few minutes Adams took his coffee in and blandly asked, "Are you going to put a tail on him? I'm only asking because this is still a murder investigation and I'm not sure where this falls with respect to our communication and evidence tasks. If it's left to me I'll get on to it immediately."

"Good point Ben, I was considering this as well. If Frank has washed his hands of this poor guy, I suggest you take care of it. He may lead us somewhere and you're right, it could be construed as negligent to allow him to disappear altogether." Adams detailed a plain clothes officer to shadow Friend until further notice.

The call came from Uncle Nigel, and was passed on by Bernard Cousins. "We could have predicted this Jack, but that doesn't diminish the fact that we have a report of a severed human arm being placed in Penshaw Monument. As this normally comes under Wearside jurisdiction I'm going to the Sunderland station to assess the situation personally."

"Just a minute Sir, how come Bradstock knew of this before you did?"

"That's the second problem; one of his officers was alerted that it had been posted on the internet late last night."

"Do you know which site was used?"

"No, but I will find out soon enough, of that I am pretty sure."

"Ok, leave that with me and I'll get Stephanie to run it to ground. I assume you'll let me know if we have to cooperate with Sunderland, if this incident is linked to our investigation."

"Of course, I'll get back to you as soon as I know more."

"Thanks, oh shit, the LED is flashing. It'll be him. I'd better take the call now." He heard no voice. "Hello, D.C.I. Renton, can I help you?"

"Well, what do you make of this report about Penshaw Monument?"

"I've only just heard and I know nothing at present. Perhaps you can fill in some of the details for me. By the way, Friend has been released."

"That is good news Inspector. I have more good news to share. Whether or not the Penshaw story is true, it has nothing to do with me. It would be flouting the principles of chivalry if I pretended this was my work. I suppose you may have an amateurish copycat. I will not allow this to derail my plan, so I would welcome a quick resolution of the incident."

"In that case I can tell you it won't come under the Newcastle jurisdiction, if indeed it isn't linked. So I'm afraid I have no influence over that incident – it will be a separate investigation."

"Wonderful, have you put a tail on Friend?"

"We probably will. I'm short of manpower but I'd still like to see that he's going to be alright. However I can't justify this for long."

"Speak to you soon. We will have cause."

Renton sank into his chair, looked at the ceiling and was temporarily drawn to the cracks in the plasterwork. They were mostly very fine, but ultimately ran toward one major fault line, like streams gathering force before becoming tributaries to a mighty river. He shook his head and asked Adams, Eva, Stephanie and Sam to join him. The lack of surprise at the actual incident was in contrast to the declaration by Frank. Eva offered a possible explanation.

"If he wants to distance himself from those who try to copy him in such mindless acts of attention-seeking, it is likely to be because he wants to protect his cause. Perhaps he feared something like this was going to happen, and it's important to get it out of the way quickly. There could be others, and he won't want to expend a lot of time disentangling them from his crusade. I think this could influence his appetite and method for posting information."

There was a long silence. Adams asked the obvious question.

"What the hell are we supposed to do about it? We investigate crime. We're not agony aunts for psychos. I think this chat line we've got with him is becoming untenable. Apart from the internet addicts, the public don't see this as any different to talking with terrorists. We can say it's to save lives, and I believe that it could, up to a point, but that point is dependent on not provoking him. It confers credibility to his perverted cause by default. He's clever enough to exploit this at our expense. Maybe I'm not being helpful by saying this but the communication with him makes me feel really dirty."

Renton looked around the group and detected accord with Adams from Stephanie and Sam. He was actually becoming unsure himself.

"I see where you're coming from Ben, and your analogy with terrorists isn't lost on me. Our politicians have always stated that they won't have dialogue with such people, as it can actually further their agenda. However, these politicians constantly demonstrate hypocrisy otherwise we wouldn't have certain people in political power who were previously terrorists. I want to nail this murderer, and I want Sunderland to nail whoever planted the severed arm. We will have to review this link with Frank regularly because I'll only tolerate it if it helps us. If we really are convinced we can make more progress without it, I'll shut it down, despite the attendant risk."

# Chapter 9

Renton passed Frank's message on to Cousins and it was agreed that Sunderland would conduct their own inquiry. Bradstock was happy to hear this and even more supportive of the decision to release Friend. None of them could have realised they were on the cusp of a truly pivotal moment in the Frankenstein case.

Only a few days after the confirmation that the severed arm in Penshaw Monument was from a recently deceased person, they had the identity. The DNA was a match for a previously convicted drug dealer on the database. Sandy Evans had only been released a week ago after serving six years in Durham high security prison. In those few days a pattern had emerged around the world. Dismembered bodies or parts of bodies began to appear in famous buildings. Ukraine, Australia, and Japan preceded North America, Argentina, France, Denmark, and Lithuania. The internet was ablaze with comments and vicarious excitement. Frank had created monsters of a different kind. The frenzy for more comment from him was so intense that he made a call to Renton.

"I have to tell you that our audio communication is at an end. In order to differentiate my work from this contagion, I am stating here and now that there will be no more killing by my hand until it ceases. I refuse to have my mission wrecked by the kind of people in whose opinion I have no interest. I have also decided to terminate posting on the web, instead I will periodically offer morsels of advice on your Intranet. So Inspector, we are back to square one. Despite this radical adjustment, I continue to help the walking dead, as there is a never-ending stream of such individuals who need me. I have appreciated your candour during the last few weeks, farewell."

There was no accommodation of a response from Renton, who experienced simultaneous but almost incompatible emotions. He was relieved at the declaration of no more killing by Frank, and he believed him. The severance of the phone calls created the analogy of parachuting out of an aeroplane only to decide within two seconds that it would have been better to stay aboard. His pragmatism gradually came to the fore, it was Frank who had panicked, and when he informed the team he simply said, "It wasn't our decision, so we just roll with the punches. At least we can now clearly focus on the five victims from the composite corpse." Eva Roberts was quick to agree with him.

"It also tells me that I can return to Holland. I'll stay in touch and help in any way you feel appropriate." This break-up of the team was unwelcome but logical.

Renton was now keen to pore through Stephanie's completed analysis of the threads on cruc-efiction.com and maryshelley-fr.biz and he asked both Adams and Gibson to join in to cast their eyes over the raw data.

After hours of cross-checking the categories of posts and their authors, they felt they had narrowed the field sufficiently to begin applying judgement. Adams remarked that the entire exercise amounted to nothing other than an extension of the original verbal conflict over the Crusades and speculation over the particular section of humanity to which Frank had aligned himself. He braced himself for a rebuke from Renton.

"That's a brilliant observation Ben; I've been fixated on finding some blindingly convoluted but significant lead. He's been coaxing us in this direction while concentrating his updates to the two sites where there's continual reinforcement of the same debates. Or am I seeing yet another mirage?"

There was an uncomfortable silence. Sam Gibson nervously stated that he wasn't good at this kind of mental gymnastics and changed the tenor of the discussion. "Now that he has pulled the plug on talking to us, maybe he will still follow us and take more photos, assuming he can continue to invade the Intranet with snippets of information." Renton encouraged him to continue. "Well, we missed him twice in the woods, so we should put a plain clothes tail on ourselves to observe any other suspicious character. We know from the walkers and the couple with the dog that he's about thirty, tall, and with an athletic build. It's worth a try."

Adams and Stephanie were keener on this than trying to second guess Frank's mind games. Renton conceded to Sam's idea for a finite period.

"Ok, let's see what this brings up over the next couple of weeks. You're all looking at me as if I'm trying to jump into Eva Roberts' profiling shoes, now that she's gone. Don't deny it – it's written all over your faces. Well you're probably right in a way, because we still haven't a clue about why he's doing all of this stuff. The three of you should get on with the routine stuff and indulge me while I fully process Frank's decision to pull back from the evil he has spawned on the internet. Up until he did withdraw I was pretty sure this wave of copycats would somehow have pleased him. Ben, I want you to follow your gut on the scant evidence we've got. I also need to evaluate the intensely personal nature of the calls he made to me. You all heard them but I was the only one in whom he confided. Give me a couple of days." Jack Renton suddenly reverted to norm. "Sam, you went to see the brother of the headless woman. Are you going to tell us about it or did you just have a nice lunch?"

Gibson smiled. "Jesus, I've been trying to say something about that for the last four hours, but I never got the chance. Apparently her husband died before the time Greg Watson estimated she was killed. However she has a son who just happens to be eighteen years old. I've been trying to tell this to Ben all bloody day, but you kept cracking the whip on these website comments, so I decided to wait for my moment. What? Oh I see. You're all flabbergasted at the revelation of a concrete lead." Adams was about to pat him on the back.

"There's more. The eighteen year-old boy's birthday matches with the numbers on Frank's second video. Fantastic Sam, can we buy you dinner Sam? Yes you can – and no fast food, it doesn't go with a good Burgundy. Let's go." The boost in morale was tangible and Renton declared the celebration was on him. They wanted to avoid the city restaurants and finally settled on La Belle Epoque, on the outskirts of Corbridge. Renton had taken the suggestion from Adams, and the weight of the bill ensured he'd never forget the place.

"I was thinking I should get out more, but if this is what it costs there's no way I can retire before I'm seventy-five. Seriously though, we have a new start tomorrow thanks to your diligence Sam. When you found out about the boy's birth date, and subsequently a dead end from this brother of Martha Blake, did you get anything else which could help to connect him to the legless body or more importantly, the legs on the Priory corpse?"

"Nothing definite I'm afraid. Martha's brother said he left home after his father died. There was a hell of an argument between the boy and his mother. He just disappeared. I haven't given up on this though, and the brother gave me a recent photograph of the boy, which I'll check with the second video. The theatrical make-up of the faces on that video may be troublesome but we can get forensic reconstruction comparisons done which may rule him in or out."

*

Buoyed by this new lead, and despite the late hour Jack Renton felt he should call on Jane and Daniel. He had squared things with his son about his rather curt reaction during their last phone conversation, and he didn't want to let things drift. He got a muted welcome and he apologised again for his frayed temper.

"I was hoping to make it up to you Daniel by giving you these concert tickets. They're for a band performing at the Sage – Kwintessential or something like that." Jane smiled at this charade of him being up to date on modern music, but Daniel was more circumspect.

"Yeah, right Dad, so who did you ask to get the tickets, and why two of them?"

"I thought we could take in a gig together because your mum isn't into stuff with this kind of edge." They all burst out laughing and Renton capitulated. "The second ticket is for whoever you want to take with you."

"Are you being serious now?

"Of course I am, and they're bloody good seats. I could've gone on holiday for less." He handed the tickets to his son and admitted that Stephanie had suggested Kwintessential. Daniel got straight on to his mobile to his best mate and basked in the friend's over-the-top reaction. Jane asked him to stay the night and he couldn't refuse.

*

The team's enthusiasm was checked slightly when the expert in forensic reconstruction took only twenty-five minutes to dismiss the possibility that Martha Blake's son was a match for the legless corpse.

"I don't need to dwell on this. Simple facial measurements and scale correction techniques tell me that the photo and the paused video of the young man are not one and the same person. It is therefore not justified to incur further expense on reconstructive modelling from each source. Sorry, but even inexperienced people like you should have been able to see a match was highly unlikely." They apologised for wasting his time but he was not very gracious as he left. Renton consoled Sam.

"Look, due to your tenacity we have two identities all but nailed down in this puzzle. Rory Davenport is definitely one of the victims, and Martha Blake and her son are linked to the case. It's just too much of a coincidence that she fits the missing person window, age, and description of the headless woman, while her boy has a birth date which exactly matches one of those on the second video. It's stretching the statistical possibility of happenchance too far to rule either of them out. We have to find any connection either of them have to Davenport or the others. You know Sam, you took a gamble on chasing down one of the 'less important' victims via missing persons, what about the other two?" Adams held up his hand.

"It's funny really. I thought I was asked to follow my gut on this one. Sam, I think you should check out the other two less important victims via missing persons, unless anybody has objections of course."

"Ok, Ben I get the point. I'll be in my office if any of you want to hear what I'm doing about Frank."

*

The officer detailed to tail Friend had followed him to a Mission for the homeless. He had not ventured out very much, and when he did it was purely to link up with others who were in the same predicament. These unfortunate people were of all ages but the one thing they had in common was looking thoroughly downtrodden. P.C. Armstrong decided to return to the Mission and ask the staff about Friend. He was surprised by the hostile reaction until he realised that they thought he was a council spy, checking up on people who no longer fitted comfortably into the expectations of the rest of society. When he explained that he was part of the team who had looked after Friend's interests while he was helping the police with enquiries, they were placated. He had managed to convey, without actually saying so, that he was not from the police. The manager of the Mission painted a glowing picture of Friend.

"He's nothing like as pedestrian in the brain department as he appears. He is slow, but thorough in making his choices about everything. He's also a great help in dealing with troublemakers; some of our guests can get a bit out of hand, but not when he's around. We've missed him while he's been away." Armstrong played a gambit.

"He seems to meet up with other friends from different sanctuaries, and he seems to get on well with everyone. Does he have any special friends who visit him here?"

"If you are talking about relationships as we know them he has nobody as far as we can tell. On the odd occasion he's gone missing for a couple of days, but has no recall of where he's been or who he's been with. You can be sure he'll do this again every so often. Anyway why are you following him now that the police let him go?"

"Just to make sure he had somewhere to sleep and be cared for. It seems there's nothing to worry about. I was asked to do this by the police because they didn't think he could look after himself. They are sometimes a little more caring than their image portrays. Well thanks for your help, I'll let them know that he's in good hands."

When he reported this back to Adams the authorisation to tail Friend was extended by another week. Stephanie entered Renton's office and wasn't given the usual reminder to knock first. "Ah, you do want to know what I have come up with regarding Frank's motive, sit down."

"No Sir, he's back on the web with Frankenstein.com to post the same pledge he made to you, also asking the new server and the public to respect the notice. He obviously still owns the domain name and has transferred it to another server. I tried to see if I could find who it is registered to, but it's to a company name which is bogus. So, I didn't come in to hear your deliberations, just to add to them. Would you like more coffee Sir?"

# Chapter 10

During the protracted time P.C. Armstrong took to update Adams and get confirmation of extending his shadowing of Friend, the target had been lost. He didn't want to speak to the staff again, but Friend had failed to return to the Mission for two consecutive nights. Armstrong became nervous when the manager rang the station and asked to speak to someone. He claimed that Friend could be in trouble because some person claiming to be interested in his welfare had been at the Mission, saying that he had assisted the poor fellow while he was in police custody.

"I didn't get a good feeling about this conversation but he was very plausible. It may not be connected to Friend's disappearance but I wanted to let you know." He was thanked and told they would look into it. Adams was furious that Armstrong had got himself into this mess and set off to quell the anxiety at the Mission. He explained that Armstrong was from the police and shouldn't have pretended otherwise.

"He is an inexperienced officer and probably didn't want you to be even more concerned for his safety than we were. You must surely be aware from the news bulletins that Friend was helping with murder enquiries, and we just wanted to ensure we could give him protection without him feeling he was being watched. Now we're really concerned for his welfare, and you were right to inform us of his disappearance, but it has nothing to do with P.C. Armstrong. We'll begin a search for him immediately, and it will be very helpful to all concerned that nobody else knows of our conversation. I hope you can see that this is in Friend's best interests. I apologise for the way this has come about but it does show we were justified in our concern for him. Let's hope there's a simple explanation for his wandering off like this." The manager agreed to forget Armstrong's well-intended indiscretion, although he was now even more worried about his missing tenant.

Renton was finding it difficult to restrain his anger at this sloppy behaviour, especially as Stephanie was about to depart for a short break in the sun.

"Just when we seemed to have momentum and direction from Sam's work, we shoot ourselves in the foot. We have to find Friend even if it turns out to be a distraction, and Sam has to follow up his missing persons approach without Steph's help. I suppose the bad news for you Ben is that I'm going to have to roll up my sleeves and assist you, bloody well serves you right for assigning such a rookie to shadow Friend." This black humour was appreciated by Adams and he pulled Stephanie's leg about the inconvenience she was causing during this critical phase.

"The weather's crap in the Med this weekend, and you'll be miserable if you're stuck in some hotel lounge the whole time."

"You're wasting your time. A rainy weekend sounds idyllic compared to dredging the shit from this swamp. I'm sure all will be back to normal when I get back. If I was going with my mates the sun would be important, but I've had this time off booked for months and I'll have company suitable for all weather."

"Hey, hold on. Is this a fella we're talking about? When did you find the time to indulge in attracting toy-boys?"

"Wrong again Sir, my companion is a professional gentleman way above the I.Q. of the average cop in this office. He's a little older than me, has similar interests outside of work, and is very good-looking. That's the entire info dump, so I guess it's 'see you Monday'.

They sat around Renton's desk like the three wise monkeys. In the middle of producing lists of missing persons from which they would prioritise candidates to match the remaining two victims, Adams challenged Sam Gibson.

"You said this brother of Martha Blake had nothing which would help identify her son as the legless corpse."

"Yes, so why does that bother you now? I told you when I returned and you thought nothing of it."

"I know, but that was partly because we were excited about that forensic guy giving us some good news on reconstruction comparison with Martha Blake's son. When he pricked that balloon it didn't seem important any more. Now I'm not so sure. If we couldn't get any of the boy's DNA, what about his mother? We're assuming she's the headless corpse, but until we get DNA it remains circumstantial. He told you Robert Blake died not long before Martha, and in between the boy did a runner. What the hell happened to her estate? It may be held up legally if she is still considered as missing rather than dead. I'm afraid I can't believe her brother has no access to anything which could give us her DNA. Am I alone here?" Renton nodded his head and agreed it was an oversight. Adams decided to pay a visit to the brother himself.

"Give me the address Sam; and hers if you have it."

"I have her last known address from the records, but he said she'd moved when the son left home. I think you may be right about this guy, because he told me someone else had rented the old property, and he had no access to the new one. He said he'd taken sides with the boy during this blow-up period and she'd never forgiven him. He also said she had nothing of value that he'd want anyway, as she was close to destitute and owed money all over the city." Adams left and then there were two.

*

It had taken a long time, but Clive Donoghue had some relatively good news. He always looked for tiny amounts of debris in a corpse because it was often able to be identified with surroundings the victim may have been in prior to, or after termination. He had found a few interesting samples but none matched up to all of the five body components at first. He chose to take them one at a time and thoroughly re-check the remaining four components which didn't have this control sample, with a new wash and extract technique. This was to collect any microscopic solid pieces suspended in the liquid carrier. This sometimes yielded results when simply magnifying the body parts missed the very smallest trace. Initially he'd found evidence of a particular slip-coating used in plastic wrapping products on the arms of the Frankenstein corpse, but not on the other four body parts. He now had proof of miniscule quantities of the same product on the soles of the feet. He tried to explain that this could easily be misinterpreted.

"There is always the possibility of transfer from one part to another, but if this was valid I would expect to see similar traces on the other components. After all, he was stitching them together and the feet were the most remote from the arms, yet they proved positive and the others negative. I will continue with other debris to see if there is a pattern. One explanation could be that the arms were initially stored at a slightly higher temperature – giving more transfer before freezing, than the feet. If the legs had been wrapped in the same material for less time prior to freezing it would be consistent with my results. The feet and the hips could have had more pressure in the wrapping process as they each represent a turning point, which the rest of the legs do not. I'm going to take samples from the internal connections of the hips, and if the slip-coating is present my theory becomes more valid." Hearing no questions or comments he turned and walked back to the lab with a puzzled expression on his face. Renton shouted after him. "Great Clive, please keep us up to date."

The smile returned as Donoghue mused – 'they didn't really understand'.

*

Friend was waiting patiently in the dark. It was a house he knew. He also knew it might not be tonight, but he did know what to expect. He would be meeting a new friend for the first time. These were always nervous times as they seemed to search his brain for empathetic signals. The uncertainty for him was just how damaged and therefore unstable his new friend would be. The objective remained the same – to bring calmness to this unknown person through having suffered the same trauma, and received treatment to take away the pain.

A car drew up and the lights were doused quickly. The shadows approaching the front door clearly showed an uneven gait in one of them, which he recognised – it was Man. The other individual was tall and lean, and only when he was safely inside would his problems be revealed. Man was the first individual from the unfortunates who was helped by Frank. He was now the equivalent of first lieutenant, shepherding the latest arrivals through assessment by Frank before allocation to a 'keeper'. This period would last for long enough to confer confidence to the newcomer to become calm enough for treatment to begin. During this phase Friend would have to provide food for his new pal, and Man would visit on a daily basis to re-stock the refrigerator and make a judgement on the patient's readiness for the procedure. This was necessary to ensure a smooth flow of unfortunates to their new persona. Now that Friend had been elevated to a keeper, he would no longer have direct contact with Frank.

*

The pandemic of copycat butchery was still in the infection period and more websites were closed down as a result. Many countries introduced legislative demands on the internet which mirrored those for books. Publishers of digital books had for some years reserved the right to refuse what they considered to be inappropriate material. Server providers were swept under this umbrella, allowing the site to be evaluated for content before going live. This was in addition to the normal monitoring process. Apart from this having only a cosmetic effect of the governments appearing to be doing something instead of sitting on their hands, it was almost impossible to implement. The employment of additional staff was reflected in the massive tariff increases. The distillate was anger amongst the public without reduction in the rate of dismemberment. It even spawned joints of meat being dressed to look like human remains. It became just another variant of lawlessness which had its roots in the 'austerity decade', courtesy of the unimaginable greed of the banking sector in 2008.

*

When Ben Adams finally ran Clyde Hendricks to ground in London, his unease was reinforced. The evasive nature of Martha Blake's brother fuelled Adams' suspicions that Sam Gibson had been treated to a broken-hearted performance of convenience. When asked if he had checked with the police in London about the status of their missing person classification of his sister, following Sam's hint that she may be dead, he shook his head. His eyes told a different story – they became furtive and he couldn't look Adams in the face without fiddling with his pen, or checking his phone. After several emotional declarations that he'd told the other detective everything he knew, Ben Adams decided to back off and enlist the help of the District Council to locate her last abode. It was a dead end, which shifted his enquiries back to the property Hendricks claimed she'd left. The story began to unravel when the people living there could only give them the name of the estate agent they had employed, as they knew nothing about the previous occupant. The lady responsible for the transaction which led to the new people moving in was insistent that it came about immediately after the death of the very frail elderly gentleman who had lived there all of his life. Adams asked the obvious question.

"So Martha Blake never lived there with her husband and son?"

"Who is Martha Blake?"

"Just someone I'm trying to trace, a missing person."

"Well, all I can say is that Mr. Allen, the owner, had a daughter living in Bristol, but she couldn't spend too much time with him when he fell ill, and he refused to go into care. She eventually convinced him to put the property on the market when the medical prognosis worsened. He was to have treatment in America and he needed the funds. I did several viewings for him and I am certain there was no one else living there."

"Ok, thanks for your help."

*

Renton worked much slower than Sam Gibson and yet they managed to cut down the interesting lists to two for the young woman, and three for the corpse without genitalia. He wanted Adams back before despatching Sam on another tour of the country. "I realise this is very important, but we still have to bear in mind that these birth dates we're working to are provided by Frank, and that in itself is not really evidence of anything other than he gave them to us. The only exception so far is Rory Davenport, so unless we get DNA back-up for others we can only assume that they are genuine birth dates of the victims. You know how it works Sam, we need rock solid evidence." Gibson looked blank. "What is it?" said Renton.

"Maybe nothing," he replied, "it's just the way you phrased the possible connection. Do you think they could be birth dates which represent people he didn't want to see die?"

"That's a hell of shout Sam; it may be part of his motive. He always talks about the unfortunates. We've also struggled to understand Steph's obsession. You know, that the first two corpses in the second video appeared to be treated differently. Davenport was one of them so that's a hit whichever way we look at it, but the jury's still out on Martha Blake and her son. By the way what's his name?"

"Dermot, according to her brother, but I agree with Adams, we can't believe anything he told me until he's been put through the ringer again, this time by Ben himself."

"Ok, let's call him now." Adams told them of the deception and said he was on his way to Hendricks' property again. "Be careful Ben, I don't like this, maybe you should ask for back-up from London."

"I'll be ok Boss. Don't worry I'm just going to snoop around at first. If I need to confront him I'll do as you suggest."

It was dark as Adams settled down for his stakeout in his car, equipped with a takeaway curry and two beers. The lights never came on even though he stuck it out until just before dawn. Creeping around the rear of the house, he used one of his lock-picking skills to open the back door, making sure that he wore gloves. As expected this set off the alarm, and he retired to his car once more. Neighbours' lights went on and he waited to see what happened. There was a small gathering in the street and he heard one man say he'd reported it to the police. "Mr. Hendricks told me he was going away for a few days and asked if I'd keep an eye on things. It makes you realise that these damned people are watching you around the clock, just waiting for their chance." The police car pulled up and two officers were shown around to the rear door, which was still standing open. When they found no evidence of forced entry they began asking questions about the occupant and took down the details for their report. The neighbour had disarmed the system with the code Hendricks had given him and reset it when they left. Adams decided to take a short nap and then call on the neighbour mid-morning to show him his police ID, as if he was investigating the case. He asked about Hendricks' habits, employment, visitors and any relatives who may be able to contact him. The man provided him with more than he'd hoped. Apparently he kept very irregular hours, travelled around the country a lot and didn't really have many visitors.

"He's a bit of a loner, and as far as relatives are concerned he has a sister. I think she stopped coming to see him a while back. When I mentioned I'd not seen her for a while he told me she'd gone missing. He reported it to the police but they haven't found her yet as far as I know. He's usually away three or four days at a time."

"What line of business is he in?"

"Don't know for sure, he never talks about things like that, but he seems well paid judging by his cars and the way he dresses, always very smart."

"Does he have a cleaner or housekeeper?"

"No, he's not the type of guy who pays people for things he doesn't need. As you can see, he keeps the place very pristine."

"Ok, can we take a look around together to see if there's any evidence of theft? Otherwise we can't spend too much resource on an alarm malfunction."

"Of course but we should really have his permission."

"Right, do you have a number for him?"

"No."

"I suppose we'll have to leave it then." The neighbour considered for a few seconds before suggesting that they begin upstairs.

# Chapter 11

Friend's new house guest was beginning to unsettle him. He was a real Jekyll and Hyde character, lucid and interesting one minute, then suddenly out of control – afraid and abusive – difficult to restrain as he tried to leave the house. His violent interludes also resulted in him throwing objects at the walls, fireplace and sometimes at Friend himself. When Man arrived with the refrigerator replenishments, the new friend was particularly on edge. Friend's treatment by Frank was being destabilised by this unpredictability and he aired this with Man, in his own simplistic way.

"This friend does not like to be in the house. He wants to be free, and he will hurt me. Best Friend must help him."

"It's too soon for that, so you must keep him until he is ready. This has been explained already."

"He will hurt me. He will hurt himself. I am not staying here."

"Now listen Friend, we've talked about this many times. You were like him once and we helped you. I'll get Best Friend to move him to another house for a couple of days, but he must come back here. This is for your benefit as much as his. You are now a keeper, and this is how it works. You'll get used to it; it's always difficult at first but if we are to help our friends we can't just give up when things get tough. You'll see, now go back to the Mission tonight and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Frank had, over the last few years managed to acquire many 'buy to let' properties in the area. They were an investment in his grand scheme. He sold each one on after refurbishment, and a few patients, so as not to arouse too much curiosity from prying eyes. It also became a self-funding portfolio, allowing him to gradually increase the number of lost souls he could restore.

*

Adams had managed to spot several items of interest while the neighbour helped him scour the upstairs rooms for any evidence of burglary. "It doesn't look like there's much disturbance up here. You're right, Mr. Hendricks is very neat. Let's check downstairs and the garage, and if we find nothing we'll have to wait until he returns before we can pursue this any further. I could use a cuppa. Do you think he would mind?" The neighbour was quite impressed with Adams' thoroughness and said he would make coffee in his own house and bring it around. This was his opportunity and he began with the computer desk. The drawers contained files on visits Hendricks had made, and future schedules. There wasn't much else of interest so he made a quick note of the first few, and returned upstairs to use his camera phone to snap what looked like a recently dated photo of a woman who was likely to be his sister. This was in the second bedroom, which was decorated as a young boy would have done, with football and pop stars' pictures on the walls. He met the incoming neighbour just as he was going to check the garage via the internal door. They stopped to drink their coffee and then stared at each other blankly as Adams opened the door to the integral garage. The car was still there and Hendricks body was slumped over the wheel, to which he was handcuffed. His feet were also bound. The neighbour almost fainted and Adams called the district police. He explained that he was investigating the disappearance of Martha Blake, following up Sam Gibson's use of their files. He feigned ignorance of the reported break in, saying that the neighbour had apparently reported it to the station. "I guess because he had a key, and I asked him about Hendricks' whereabouts he assumed I was from your squad. If we hadn't found the body I was going to ask you for your help in tracing Martha Blake again. I've reason to believe Hendricks didn't give you the truth about his sister's disappearance, and I was going to share this with you anyway, so I hope we can check this out together." Adams was mightily relieved that the D.C.I. he spoke to was receptive to joining the dots on what was now a murder, rather than a rogue alarm incident. He was also hooked on this solid link to the already notorious Frankenstein case.

*

Clive Donoghue had made more progress with his debris washes of all five components of the Priory corpse. To add to his earlier findings of the presence of slip-coatings for plastic wrapping on two parts of this composite creation, he now had something which linked all five. Frank must have thought he'd been meticulous in every respect. The tedious but painstakingly conducted wash and extract programme of ten square centimetres at a time revealed consistent results. The clean-up fluids for surgical procedures on living subjects were normally different from those for the deceased. All five body parts had been impregnated with fluid usually associated with hospital operating theatres rather than pathology labs.

"It is not what I would have expected and it is a pointer rather than the kind of evidence the Crown Prosecutor would be comfortable with, but I'm pretty sure the person who constituted the Frankenstein corpse and therefore dismembered the five contributors, is a surgeon. I've discussed this with Greg Watson and he agrees that these findings are consistent with the skill shown in the procedure we saw with two of the five victims." Renton thanked him for his diligence and tenacity in authorising the phenomenal workload in his department, when it seemed like a straw in the wind approach to his staff.

"This certainly helps us Clive, and it is another piece of data that we've got which Frank won't expect us to have. Please let your people know how grateful we are."

"Details are our business Jack." It was the first time he'd ever referred to Renton by his given name; a sign that he was progressing toward the same level of esteem in which the D.C.I. held his colleague, the Medical Examiner - Gregory Watson. Renton caught Sam Gibson smiling after Donoghue's exit, and they both remarked that the forensics chief was becoming more relaxed with the brash culture in C.I.D.

*

There was a certain interpersonal chemistry between Adams and D.C.I. Harry Gilbert which allowed the former to stay in London, and obtain help in re-opening the search for Martha Blake, whether she was alive or dead. Gilbert was also keen to have Ben Adams as a reference in investigating the death of Hendricks. They both agreed that it had to be connected in some way to Martha's fate. Adams phoned Renton and they agreed on an extended stay until further notice, which meant Sam was stuck in Newcastle until Stephanie returned from her assignation on the Costa.

*

Friend had been welcomed back to the Mission and the manager phoned to let the police know he was safe and well. Renton took the call and he left Sam to plough on with contacting the local police in those regions where the short list of missing persons matched the birth dates of the man who'd been separated from his genitalia, and the young woman without her torso had been reported. When Renton arrived at the Mission he was told that Friend was sleeping. He whispered to the manager that he would really appreciate a word with the returning resident.

"I only need him to know that, just in case he disappeared because he thought we might bring him in again, he needn't worry on that score again. We appreciated his help, but we know he had nothing to answer for. We told him this at the time. However, he seemed a little apprehensive about going back in the holding cell."

"Alright, but please be brief, he was very tired when he came back and could not stay awake. He isn't himself at all." Renton entered his room and sat silently in the chair by the bed. It was almost an hour before Friend stirred and blinked. Renton smiled at him.

"Hello, we've been worried about you. Have you been unwell?"

"No, I am sleepy because I cannot sleep."

"Oh, that's not so good. Why can't you sleep?"

"I have to help a new friend. He is sometimes very angry, and he forgets we are friends."

"How did you meet this new friend?"

"Man brought him to see me."

"Which man?"

"Man who brings new friends to the keepers."

"Are you a keeper?"

"Yes, but I am not a good keeper. Man will tell Best Friend. I have to go back. Best Friend will not like this."

"I thought you would not see Best Friend anymore."

"Yes, that is right. I am afraid. Keepers have to be good."

"Where is this place, the one where Man brought this new friend to see you?"

"I don't know names, just how to get there." Renton decided to back off and consider trailing Friend himself.

"When do you have to go back?"

"I must be there tomorrow, before Man gets there."

"Ok Friend, I understand. Is there anything you would like me to do?"

"No. If I am still bad tomorrow, Man will send me here again and then I can't be a keeper. I want to help my new friend. I will try again." Renton patted him on the back and told him to try to get more sleep.

"Maybe we should have a secret between us. We are friends and nobody else needs to know we help each other. You helped me in the woods, and I want help you now. Is this ok?"

"Yes I would like that." Friend flashed a broad smile, and Renton was sure he'd soon be asleep again.

# Chapter 12

When Stephanie returned after her break, she looked very different. A new hairstyle, makeup, and a radiance Renton had never observed before. She was always first to arrive in the morning, but not today. She had not conceded to a dress, but the designer jeans and top completed her visual transformation.

"What's up," she asked, "where's D.I. Adams?" She was expecting an interrogation, after all, it was a police station, and she knew Adams would be the most cynical.

"He's in London at the moment. What happened to you Steph?"

"I had a great time and a chance to reflect on my future. This time off made me realise how driven I'd become, to the exclusion of everything else. So, I treated myself to what I would normally have described as self-indulgence. It's a nice change to be noticed for something other than stats and evidence."

Sam was very complimentary. "You look stunning girl, absolutely gorgeous."

"Thank you Sam. I'll get us some coffee, that's why you complimented me wasn't it?"

"Hell no, I'll get the coffee myself, this time." She flushed and turned back to Renton, who echoed Sam's sentiment.

"You look really great, has this guy got anything to do with your desire for a change of image?"

"Here we go, I'm not fifteen years old Sir, and I need a broader horizon. Of course he had a big influence without saying much; he bought some clothes for himself and said he'd like to buy me a present, in this really swish boutique. He got me the jeans, after being very fussy with the shop assistant. I felt a bit embarrassed at first with all of the attention, but then I realised he wanted the jeans to be just right. He told them he'd buy them if they could make a slight alteration to the bottoms, so that they'd sit better. He made me see another side of customer service, and I decided to go the extra mile at my own cost. Now, where are we with Frank?"

She was brought up to date and then Sam got on his way to check out the remaining missing victims list. Renton was half-apologetic when he told Stephanie to hold the fort while he shadowed Friend.

"We haven't had time to do any more analysis of your internet posts, so you can get on to that again, and maybe you should think about Donoghue's comment that Frank is either a surgeon or has access to one. Have a chat with him, he's done a good job with this and it could be a good lead, because there can't be that many surgeons in this area who are in their thirties and took photos of us in the woods."

"Thank you Sir, do you want me to drag any of them in for questioning, or is this just to keep me busy? When I left on Friday I thought I was on the communication programme, while Adams and Sam were doing the evidence."

"Yes, but Frank has pulled the plug on phone calls, so unless he's back on the internet, which is your strong suit anyway, you need to shift focus. That's what I'm doing, and not so much of the attitude if you don't mind." She poked out her tongue and then smiled as if to acknowledge the change in dynamic of the case.

*

Clyde Hendricks' post-mortem clearly indicated that he'd been drugged before being trussed up and placed in the driving seat of his car. The ignition had been turned off, indicating that it was not suicide. The London records at the time of Martha Blake having been reported missing threw up an inconsistency. Uniform were absolutely adamant that Hendricks had not been the person who'd registered the concern, whereas Sam Gibson's interview with Hendricks, and the neighbour with whom Adams had discovered the body, both seemed to indicate the opposite. The officer who recorded the very first contact said the individual he spoke to was Caucasian. This provoked Adams to phone Sam and then speak to the neighbour again.

*

Renton waited patiently for Friend to emerge from the Mission. It was close to noon before he did so, while having a conversation with the manager. He followed his target on foot and began to think Friend had lost his way, such was the intricacy of the route, but after some thirty-five minutes they arrived at an estate in Elswick, a suburb of Newcastle. Renton was relieved that the house Friend entered was in a cul-de-sac, so that he didn't have to worry about the direction from which Man would arrive. What he failed to realise was that Man was already there with the new friend, and wasn't overjoyed about being kept waiting. He studied Man as he departed, noting the limp and a misshapen head, due to one side looking as if he may have a tumour. He had brought some bogus leaflets with him as a legitimate reason for walking up the drives of all properties. When Man's vehicle had disappeared from sight Renton approached the adjoining semi-detached house and offered one of his pamphlets. It was declined and he politely retreated to ring the bell of the keeper property. When Friend opened the door, he was shocked and immediately closed it again, shouting through the letterbox, "No, no you must go away. Man is angry with me, and now Best Friend might come. Please go away."

The tension in Friend's voice spilled over to his guest, who began to throw crockery around the kitchen, and kicked at the rear glass door. Friend was on the verge of total panic, and before Renton could react, he opened the door and bolted. It all happened so quickly. As the Inspector chased Friend, the guest ran off in the other direction from the mouth of the cul-de-sac. The commotion brought out several neighbours, all of whom looked perplexed. Renton decided he had to let the guest go and concentrate on catching up with Friend. He was to find out that despite his slow mental capability and serious skin condition, his quarry was a hell of a lot fitter than he was. It only took quarter of a mile for Jack Renton to concede. He rang the station and asked for a car to intercept Friend without using their klaxon. This also backfired spectacularly when the runaway crossed at a red traffic light and was hit by a motorcycle, which had right of way. Both parties were injured and taken to the Royal Victoria Infirmary. The one piece of luck for Renton was that the squad car was there as the accident happened and was able to write the report first-hand, and escort the ambulance to A&E directly. At least he knew where Friend was. He would have to wait for the prognosis.

*

Adams had confirmed that Sam and the neighbour had been told directly by Hendricks that he had reported Martha's disappearance in person. The description by the uniformed officer who filed the information was helpful. Apart from the man being Caucasian, he was much younger and taller than Hendricks. He was about thirty, slim, probably just over six feet tall, and wore bifocals. He did give his name as Clyde Hendricks, but registered a different address. Adams was confused and left this line of enquiry to Gilbert while he began checking out the names on Hendricks' visit list. The first of these was Carl Kennedy, apparently working in a casino in Salford. He set off and informed Renton of his intent, so the Boss told him Sam had struck out on his first candidate for the body without genitalia, and was headed to Manchester. Ben said he would contact him and meet up. "There are still some strange elements about Hendricks which I want to run past Sam, because this neighbour had a house key, and I can't imagine Clyde would give anyone access to his castle. We could do with a brainstorming session over a curry and a few beers. I'll keep you informed Boss. By the way Sam said on the phone that Steph was a changed person, but he wouldn't elaborate, what the hell did he mean?"

"It would be spoiling the surprise if I said anything. Good luck." Renton set off for the hospital. He was pleased that the squad car had been there when the accident occurred. Not only did they see what happened, they were able to take witness statements and get the two injured men safely off the scene before any media reporters arrived. He wanted to preserve this relative anonymity for Friend's sake. The doctor he saw in his official capacity as a police officer was confused until Renton explained he was just a personal acquaintance of Friend.

"How are the two of them?"

"The motorcyclist has a chipped bone in his left knee joint and contusions all down that side, but he will be fine. He may be discharged tomorrow. The other chap fared better in terms of physical injury, having dislocated a collar bone, but he seems to have suffered more emotional trauma, including accepting that it was entirely his fault."

"I can imagine that Doctor, he's apparently been through a lot of trauma already in his young life. Can I see him?"

"Of course, I think he needs someone familiar to him right now. He claims to have no family at all." When Jack Renton entered the ward Friend's facial expression turned from vacant to decidedly sheepish.

"Hello again, I hope you don't think this accident was completely your fault. You should remember that you were upset before you met Man at the house, and I didn't help by coming to see you there. The chap on the motor bike is going to be fine and I'll help you in the event of an insurance claim. I came to see if you'd like to stay with me for a few days instead of returning to the Mission. I can't look after you during the day but you'll be safe there. You won't have to worry about Man or Best Friend while you're there. Would you like that?" An infectious grin spread across his face and he got up to leave. "Not just yet," urged Renton, "we have to see the doctor first." It was another hour before he was discharged.

Frank was livid with Man over his handling of the situation, losing two individuals. They had checked the Mission and been told that Friend had been acting strangely recently.

"He didn't return last night and even the police couldn't find him."

"You called the police, why?" said Frank.

"Isn't that rather obvious? I was concerned over his wellbeing. However that was after the police had been here asking about him anyway."

"What did you tell them?"

"I don't see that it's any of your business." The manager turned to address Man. "I know you brought him here as his colleague, but when we take someone into our care we have to respect their needs first and foremost. He was nervous every time you came to visit him; perhaps that's what you should be more concerned about."

Frank didn't like the way the conversation was going and indicated to Man that they should leave.

*

Sir Nigel had been uncharacteristically quiet for the last week or so, but all good things come to an end. Bernard Cousins called Renton with the bad news

"Jack, we are both under the microscope again. His gurus in the Capital have effectively said they can't detect how Frank gets in and out of our Intranet without leaving any trail whatsoever. He has already dismissed Middleton and the severance package is apparently being contested. He wants to pull Charles Welling back to London and have Kyle Jennings report to him. This has caused a minor revolution in I.T. because they consider Welling to be a pompous, self-serving anal orifice – their words. He's basically a consultant and his track record is being scrutinised. This is a big call for Bradstock, as he hasn't a clue about the technicalities involved, but seems to have fallen for the promises of Welling that he can fix the problem. He is therefore spitting bullets at everyone else who isn't giving him good news right now. We fall into that category because we haven't made much progress with Frank. He questions your decision to let Eva Roberts go back to Holland. I have been told in no uncertain terms that I am in the results business and he wants you to call him immediately."

"I hope he realises that Frank has backed off all communication with us, including the Intranet. I'm no computer nerd, and I understand why we have to make it secure again, but this is surely not the time for panic measures. It doesn't take a genius to know blocking our own access to the Intranet for a few days is not the end of the world. Wouldn't that give the guys a better chance to find the loophole? It would also send a message to Frank. Anyway, I'll call Bradstock to see what he would do in my place, and then I'll get back to you."

*

Adams and Gibson had settled for a good pub meal rather than an Indian. The beer went down well and managed to produce the productive mental lubrication they'd hoped it would. Mulling over various aspects of their individual sessions with Clyde Hendricks they agreed that he was so shifty that he would not have given a house key to anyone. Gibson was intrigued by Hendricks' association with a casino.

"Can you remember that he told me that his sister would have nothing of interest to him in her legacy? He also said she had debt all over the city"

"Yes I do, and neither of us believed that he wouldn't want something to mark his sister's passing. Death often brings forth regrets over what could have been done, and he must have wondered about that, if only they'd abandoned their stubbornness and self-righteousness."

"Well what if that legacy was debt? The kind he'd helped her with, but hadn't been repaid. Now that I think back, he was far too evasive about his recent relationship with Martha, and particularly whether she was as destitute as he claimed. Did you say that this guy you're going to see in Salford was the only one on Hendricks' list who had any occupation or other information alongside their name?"

"Yes."

"In that case, maybe I should detour to come with you. This kind of racket is often a front for money-laundering operations amongst other things. I can listen while you talk."

"That makes sense, as we're so close to the place. Let's do it now."

# Chapter 13

"It's Jack Renton Sir, you wanted me to call you."

"Did I? Oh yes, let me see. I have a note of the questions for which I want answers." The sound of Bradstock shuffling papers convinced Renton that this was going to be even worse than he had anticipated. "Right, here we are. Cousins couldn't give me any coherent summary of where we are on this damned Frankenstein case, and nothing other than excuses for failing to come up with any concrete direction. I began to feel he was merely covering for you and I therefore want you to tell me exactly what I need to know – not what you think I do not need to know. It had better be good Jack, or we will have to consider reorganising our resource. It isn't only a question of the actual killings involved with this particular case; it's the knock-on effect of the flak we are getting from Whitehall about the copycat stuff. Because of their inability, and other world governments, to exercise any real control over the internet conduit, they want to see this Frank extinguished. They believe he is still seen as some kind of bizarre role model for all the disturbed people out there. I could question the figures which have been thrown my way, but there is no doubt that the emergence of the trend can be traced back to him as the fountain head. We are also part of the momentum as long as we can't secure our Intranet. I know that this is not part of your task. However, it is linked, as he can still hurt us as long as we have this vulnerability. I suppose Cousins has briefed you on the changes I have made in order to get the breach fixed. I must admit that I have yet to see any progress, so it is fortunate that Frank is inactive at the moment, but we can't just sit on our hands and hope for the best. I need up to date detail of your investigation – not simply where you are now, but what you have planned in the coming days. I'm flying up to Newcastle tonight. Pick me up at the airport, Cousins has the flight information, but I want a session with just the two of us first."

"Yes Sir, I'll see you then." He contemplated the scenario. He had Adams and Gibson checking on a tenuous lead in a Salford casino, Stephanie was in truth marking time on the analysis of obscure internet comments, and currently distracted by a suitor who'd given her a desire to embrace and improve her dress sense. This was not what was needed in the mind of a previously focussed evidence junkie. Eva Roberts had jumped ship, and worst of all, he'd taken in a tenant who had been, and still could be a material witness. He had told nobody of his altruistic harbouring of Friend. While frantically thinking of how he could resolve this situation and admitting to himself it was a ridiculously unprofessional gesture, he received a call.

"Inspector, I see you have maintained your curiosity in Friend." Renton recognised Frank's distorted voice immediately. "I was touched by your initial kindness to him, but things have changed. Your people have been checking on him at the Mission. Is there anything you need to tell me?"

Renton was finding it difficult to process this, in view of the general predicament he anticipated with the imminent arrival of Sir Nigel.

"Yes, we checked on him at the Mission after he was released because he'd asked to stay with us. That wasn't possible and it was difficult to explain to him. He'd already told us that he wouldn't see you anymore, so we were concerned about his welfare. Once we knew he was being looked after at the Mission we relaxed our watch over him. I hope you aren't calling to say something has happened to him." He nervously waited for any sign that Frank knew more.

"I can't tell you anything Inspector. One of my assistants has lost track of him, so he also checked the Mission, but he isn't there. He was told of your enquiries and I thought you may be able to help. As you say, I won't be seeing him again, but I still want to know he is safe."

"Ok, I'll have one of my officers begin a search. You'll have to check with me from time to time as I have no way of contacting you."

"That is very helpful, but I won't call you unless he doesn't return to the Mission. If he continues to elude both of us we will need to talk again, as I may have to rescind my agreement to suspend my internet posts, desist from intruding into your internal police database, and punish more people for their wrongdoing. I have invested considerable effort in Friend and many others like him; it will not be tolerated if he regresses to the tortured soul he used to be. The Mission is his home, and I do appreciate your help in trying to restore that status for him. I will have someone check regularly as to whether he has returned." The call ended and Jack Renton knew that time was of the essence. Any delay could be disastrous, but he was worried about how Friend would take the change of plan.

*

When Adams and Gibson finally tracked down Carl Kennedy he was furious that they had gone to his place of work. This was an encouraging start.

"What have you got to fear? You don't even know why we came to see you yet."

"No I don't but the people who run this business get very nervous when police officers show up unannounced. Now they'll want to know why you're interested in talking to me. They believe there's never smoke without fire. Anyway, what do you want?"

Sam's steely gaze picked up beads of sweat while Adams continued.

"We'd like to know why Clyde Hendricks comes to see you."

"Once - he only came to see me once, past tense. He won't be coming again."

"Well then, let's hear why he came to see you once upon a time."

"It's not something I want to talk about. I'm under instructions to forget he ever came here."

"Ok, can you accompany us to the station, we're investigating his suspicious death and we know he wanted to see you again. The appointment is in the notes he left. So you are a material witness as to his recent and planned future movements."

"Now hold on a minute, I don't know how he got my name in the first place, but he gave me a contact which I checked with my Boss, and he agreed to see Hendricks. I wasn't at that meeting, I was given subsequent instructions to personally take a letter to his home and make sure he read it and then destroyed it. My next instruction was to forget I'd ever seen him."

Adams nodded his head and Kennedy seemed to relax, only to be jolted by being asked if he recognised any of the other names on Hendricks' list.

"Look, I can't say any more. The people I work for don't approve of cosy chats with cops, especially C.I.D. officers. You know what I mean, don't pretend otherwise."

"I'm sorry to hear that because it means you'll have to come with me to the station in London, and I mean now." Adams told Sam to rearrange his schedule and check out his candidates by starting in the Capital. "You need to drive while I keep an eye on chummy here."

They left without Kennedy having a chance to explain anything to the casino people, and he seemed genuinely relieved that they were heading out of the Manchester area. Adams had the impression that he would take any opportunity to disappear, and made a mental note to ensure Gilbert would use every angle to keep him in custody as long as possible. As they were joining the M-25 Adams received a call from Stephanie.

"Where are you?" He responded and told her the traffic noise was exceptionally loud. She shouted instructions passed on by Renton.

"You and Sam have to return immediately."

"We have to drop off a suspect in London to be questioned by D.C.I. Gilbert, I'll be back tomorrow."

"No Sir, you have to come back now. The Boss is going mental because Bradstock is on his way here with a hatchet, aiming at anyone down the order from Cousins. Apparently he's under pressure from the Justice Secretary, on the instruction of the P.M. to kick the Three Rivers Force into shape. The failure of Sunderland to find out anything about the severed arm left in Penshaw Monument, the heads which have already rolled in I.T. for not fixing the Intranet black hole, and our blank sheet of credible suspects, have conspired to convince Sir Nigel that a shake-up is needed. I've been told to make sure you are here tomorrow morning even if you have to drive all night. Renton knows it will be a bullshit meeting with Bradstock, but says that's preferable to losing someone who doesn't attend because they're chasing rainbows."

"Jesus, I want to speak to him myself, put him on Steph."

"He's not here, that's why I was given the pleasure of telling you."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know but he said you shouldn't try to contact him on his mobile. He had an urgent task to complete before picking up Bradstock. It must be pretty serious Sir; I've never seen him act like this before."

"Bloody hell, this is a good lead we have. I can smell it. Ok Steph, we'll drop this guy off with Gilbert and then head north immediately." He filled in the other side of the conversation for Sam, who was as philosophical as ever. Gilbert was delighted to get the opportunity to grill Kennedy, and promised to explore any backlink to the Frankenstein case. Adams thanked him and apologised for their orders to head back to Newcastle without delay.

*

Friend was heartbroken and for the first time since Renton had met him, he displayed signs of being betrayed.

"Are you so unhappy because I have had to break my promise to let you stay here?"

"I don't like the Mission."

"I thought they were taking good care of you."

"They ask questions. Man asks questions. Best Friend knows everything."

"You don't like questions do you?"

"No. They can make trouble. I like the police station. Everybody is too busy to ask questions all of the time."

"Would you like to tell Man that you want to help the police again?"

"Yes, but I am a keeper now."

"A keeper, yes but what does that really mean?"

"I have to help new friends."

"I know that's what you said to me, and you don't like that very much, but tell me the real reason why this frightens you."

"I should like it. I should help them but they make me afraid."

"I think you should tell Man that you want to help us again, and I'm sure Best Friend will speak to me about it. I might be able to persuade him to change his mind about you staying at the Mission. Can you do that?"

"I will try." The smile returned when Friend knew he wasn't being abandoned yet again. That was what had caused his problems in the first place.

# Chapter 14

The short journey from the airport to the station was tense. Bradstock wouldn't be drawn on specifics until he had heard a complete presentation of the status on all aspects of the case. He was however, happy to talk up a potential breakthrough with the Intranet security.

"Charles Welling has the right approach to situations like this. He doesn't pretend he knows all of the answers, but gets people who do. We have managed to secure a chap who corrected a loophole in the Pentagon system a few years back. He is on secondment to us for a month and has already identified things which could have allowed our breach. You see Jack this is what we need on a regular basis – a review of procedures and personnel. If we don't have the right people, how the hell can we do the right job?" Renton was now blitzed with conflicting thoughts. He thought he should ring Cousins before Bradstock began his assessment of the case.

He excused himself to inspect the porcelain while Stephanie settled Sir Nigel with coffee and biscuits. He had some difficulty getting through to Cousins, but prevailed at last.

"I have the Chief here now and he seems to be in a 'root and branch' enquiry mode. It makes me nervous. What time will you be here?" The reply was not what he wanted to hear.

"I'm not invited Jack, he insisted on hearing accounts by people in the front line without them being intimidated by higher management. I think you'll find that he will adopt the same order with you, starting at the bottom to get detail before hearing what the senior management proposals are. He will have read it in some text book. I share your concern but I was told not to explain this to you before the event. I'll be in trouble if he finds out you know. Good luck." Renton was a bit light-headed as he walked back through the main office. He asked Stephanie where Adams and Gibson were.

"They'll be here in a couple of minutes. They had a horrendous journey back last night because of a pile-up just south of Ferrybridge." Bradstock was waving him to the privacy of the office.

"I want to follow a certain sequence of appraisal of the case. It will help me to understand the facts and the leanings on how to proceed if I hear the evidence in this way. The young lady is your analyst, I'll begin with her. I forget her name - you need to remind me."

"Stephanie Sir, Stephanie Baker."

"Yes of course, and her rank?"

"Detective Sergeant, she was recently promoted."

"Good, show her in and then I will proceed to the next person of the same rank who is on the case."

"Is there a point to starting with the rank of D.S. Sir?"

"I thought I had explained that already."

"What I meant was that we do have two other Detective Constables doing more than their share of the legwork. You know, phone calls, doorstep interviews to allow D.S. Baker to optimise her analyses." Renton wanted to delay the interview with Stephanie until Gibson had arrived, as he would be next. He also wanted to brief them on what this was all about now that he knew of Cousins exclusion from the interrogation of the Newcastle staff.

The two late arrivals wanted to ask questions but there was no time for that. Renton told them to stick to the script of evidence, even though that was still scant. They congregated at Adams' desk just as Bradstock waved at the Boss to join Stephanie in his office.

"Well, we have covered a lot of ground and D.S. Baker tells me that Frank has gone completely silent since his declaration that there would be no more killings. Thank you Stephanie, that will be all for now." When she had left the office Renton offered further clarification about Frank.

"He did say he'd not claim any more victims, but it was put across with the caveat that we respected the genuine posts that he was to make, differentiating them from internet trolls and copycats. He also said he wasn't going to contact me by phone anymore, but that has just changed. He rang yesterday to ask for help in finding one of the people he has treated – the one who helped us find the toe in the woods after delivering the finger. This chap has disappeared from the Mission where he lived and I'm worried for two reasons."

"I am all ears."

"The man, who Frank refers to only as Friend, is in a fragile mental state and if anything nasty befalls him we will lose a valuable conduit to Frank's agenda. Secondly, I'm concerned that if he broke his silence to ask for my help, he may react badly to any harm which this Friend suffers. That's why we can't rely on the victims staying at five. He considers Friend to be a victim of some kind already. We need to tread carefully."

"I see. Mmm, very well, please ask D.S. Gibson to join me."

*

D.C.I. Gilbert had made a potential breakthrough with Kennedy. When confronted with the dilemma of returning to Salford and another visit from the police to question the management over Hendricks' murder, he began to bargain. Gilbert indicated that he would have to agree to being a witness if required, as well as furnishing information about the names on the list. The promise of witness protection and future anonymity appealed more than being thrown back into the piranha pool, and time was important. He wanted to gauge Gilbert's intent by talking about only one on the list, claiming he didn't know the others.

"Sol Greenwood is a contract man. I don't know him personally, only through this man, Howard Freeman, who is on your list. I was told he only works outside the ring on a fee basis. When Hendricks got my name from a fixer in London, he came to see me. I'd never seen him in my life before that, but Howard Freeman had always been a reliable source. Freeman had been approached by one of his lenders on behalf of Hendricks, who had been refused credit everywhere, and had resorted to the perils of the street sharks. He needed a seven figure sum upfront, and in cash, to get the drug boys off his sister's back. She'd not delivered on a sell to a few gangs. When this was checked out by the Baron in London he was convinced of her scam, but she'd moved house and they couldn't find her at first. Hendricks was referred to me by Freeman because there was the potential of a juicy cut for providing money from outside the Capital. I recommended it to the management in Salford and they agreed after checking that Hendricks had a strong business, and therefore the ability to pay this loan back at a very lucrative interest rate, it was only a short term cash-flow bind he needed help with. It didn't turn out like that. Hendricks' sister had been tortured by the drug dealers, and one of the things she coughed up was the promise to get the money from her brother to settle the debt. They didn't believe he would prejudice his business for her, as she was by now totally addicted to heroin. Hendricks was told by them that they wanted a share of the business for a knockdown price, so they would lever their debt out of him as equity. It was simple and had the benefit of being a legitimate earner. When he refused they had his sister clipped. He caved in to their demands and this was his biggest mistake. Shortly after the share transfer went through, Greenwood was ordered to seal off the exposure by setting up Hendricks' elimination. Greenwood had spotted visitors coming to see Hendricks, who had virtually become a recluse. He confessed to Greenwood that one of them was from the London police, and this caused Sol to back off for a while. When this was followed by one of the officers from the Newcastle squad, he was told to act quickly, hence the 'suicide' arrangement. That went wrong because someone tried to get into the house, and must have set off the alarm. Sol had apparently already concussed Hendricks, and had to act fast. He couldn't just leave the car engine running and hope he didn't wake up. He always carried handcuffs and decided to fasten him to the wheel and tie his feet. He said he was about to leave through the rear garage door when he heard the alarm being disabled, and a voice shouting for Hendricks. He had to turn off the engine and get the hell out of there. It was only when he read the papers that he found out that the neighbour had a key, and had been told Hendricks was away on business. I thought this was quite funny at the time when Freeman told me about Sol's panic-stricken exit, but the management in Salford were really pissed that I'd almost put them on a collision course with these drug people. They were also very unhappy that I'd recommended a loan which Hendricks didn't take out. They gave me a warning about my future. I am not talking about a blot on my employment record, more of a promise to move me on to the afterlife. Now I can't go back there."

"Well that's a very interesting story Carl, but there's something troubling me. Why would Hendricks have the alarm set when he was in the house himself, or with this assassin?"

"I can only imagine it was because he wanted to remain reclusive, even to his neighbours, by pretending to be away."

"Yes, but if he let Greenwood in, he would have set it off by doing so wouldn't he?"

"Maybe he disarmed it when Sol rang the bell."

"Ok, so who reset it then?"

"I see what you mean. That is strange."

"I'm afraid I will have to figure that out before I can rely on your disclosure."

"Christ, how long will that take?"

"As long as it takes I guess."

*

Friend had informed Man of his wish to help the police. It did not go down too well. The disagreement reached the ears of the Mission manager, who tried to placate them. Man told him not to interfere. When the manager persisted Man punched him and then hit him across the side of the head with his walking cane. The brass head produced a serious gash and as he fell to the floor Friend struck Man with an almighty right hook to the chin which knocked him out cold. The staff couldn't revive the manager and called an ambulance. Man eventually staggered to his feet to be told the police were on their way. He tried to make a sharp exit but was collared by the vice-like grip of Friend. When the ambulance crew arrived even they could not revive the manager, and he was whisked away to A&E. The police took Man, Friend and a couple of the staff who had seen the entire incident, back to the station for questioning. Renton was quizzing Stephanie in the canteen about her session with Bradstock when the desk informed him of the melee at the Mission. "Shit, that's all I need right now. You haven't told me yet, right? Come on Steph let's get back to the office."

# Chapter 15

Bradstock didn't know what to make of Sam Gibson. He wasn't accustomed to one word answers to questions which were designed to loosen the tongue. The interview only lasted a few minutes. He then called for Adams, and began with an invitation to explain the jaunt he had heard of from Sam.

"He seemed reluctant to elaborate on this trip to London, perhaps you'd oblige. On the face of it, without any background context, it appears to be a rather desperate action to connect a third party to a person who may be one of the victims. I would like to share your zeal, proceed."

Adams was acutely aware that he needed to avoid any suspicion of entering Hendricks' house illegally. "Sam had second thoughts about the guy's veracity after I'd popped a few theories at Hendricks about his sister's disappearance. I went to check him out again and his account fell apart." Just as he was about to get to the more tenuous visit to the casino in Salford, without knowing whether Sam had disclosed it, Renton interrupted their chat.

"Ben there's a D.C.I. Gilbert on the line for you. He says it is extremely urgent." Adams picked up the phone and listened to the whole story without saying a word. This annoyed Bradstock immensely. When the call ended Adams resumed without revealing his delight.

"That was the officer investigating the murder of Hendricks, Sir. He has acted on the suspect Sam and I delivered to him from Salford. Apparently this has led to information which has allowed D.C.I. Gilbert to make an arrest. I still have confidence that this killing is linked to the headless Frankenstein victim, Martha Blake. It's good to be able to cooperate with other forces while respecting jurisdiction."

Bradstock was impressed, and this became a pivotal moment in his inquisition. He thanked Adams and asked him to send his Boss into the office. Renton had always known that there was a high probability of a sting in the tail of this visit, and he now felt unusually vulnerable with the thin evidence they had collected. He braced himself.

"I congratulate you and your team for your thoroughness in the way you are handling a very difficult case. However, I have to tell you that I am relieving Bernard Cousins of responsibility for Frankenstein, so he can concentrate on this wretched severed arm which was found in Sunderland. I want it sorted without delay. Now, back to Newcastle, the only thing which disturbs me from what I've heard today is your focus. I never thought I would hear myself saying this but I believe in this case you are too focussed. You need to spread your approach. I am of the opinion that you should not have let Eva Roberts go, and that is the first thing you should correct. Now that I'm taking over from Cousins for the present, I will help you to widen our targeting of resource."

"That's great Sir. I'll let the team know. It should lift morale. Do you need more detail from me?"

"Yes, but not now Jack. I'll go to my hotel and check on how the American is doing with the Intranet. We can resume first thing tomorrow. However you can disclose Cousins' temporary remit to your team, he is actually informing the Sunderland staff right now"

After Bradstock's taxi had left the station, Renton wearily called the others to join him. They were eager to hear what he had to say.

"Our illustrious leader has decided to take over this case from Cousins, who will now lead the Sunderland investigation. It gets worse; Bradstock will be in 'hands on' mode. You know, I detest this man, I shouldn't be saying this to you but he plays snooker with people's careers. Bernard Cousins has done nothing wrong, and I was expecting even more changes until after you'd spoken to him Ben. What the hell did you tell him?"

"I've just been telling Sam and Steph. The London force has arrested Carl Kennedy, the guy we took out of the casino. D.C.I. Gilbert is going to help us with any evidence which links that case to Martha Blake. If we can pull that off, we will have two victims identified. He is also trying to find the son of Martha, so we can definitely rule him out as a third victim. If Sam can resume looking for the others we may find the connection between all five. And it's crucial that we protect this information, as you have said, it's the only aspect in which we're ahead of Frank – his ignorance of our progress."

"Ok, I agree, get on with it. Steph, I want you to come with me to see the brawlers from the Mission, and we need to check on the status of the manager, he seems to be in a bad way."

*

The noise coming from one of the cells was reminiscent of a howling wolf. Renton feared the worst, but it wasn't Friend. Armed with the statements of the two witnesses from the Mission, they entered the cell containing the wailing Man. He was writhing around on the floor while holding his head in both hands. There was a uniformed officer standing at the door. Renton asked if the prisoner had been seen by a doctor. A shrug of the shoulders produced an angry reaction.

"Well then, get the bloody medical man down here now."

"Yes Sir, I was told he was mentally disturbed, and just to keep an eye on him to prevent him hurting himself."

"Just get the doctor Son."

Bending over Man, Renton could see a heavy swelling below one of his ears. He turned to Stephanie. "I'm no expert, but I've seen something like this before. Boxers often suffer broken jaws, and that swelling looks ominously like his lower jaw is unhinged. It must be driving him nuts." Stephanie shuddered and looked away as the doctor began his examination. He confirmed Renton's diagnosis and insisted he was taken to hospital for the correction procedure.

They switched their attention to Friend. He was apologetic about striking Man but had been worried for the safety of the manager. This tied up with the account of the Mission witnesses. Renton wanted to assure him that he wasn't in serious trouble.

"Yes, we understand the manager was trying to stop Man from trying to bully you into going with him. Do you know where he wanted you to go?"

"No, I just told him I wanted to stay at the Mission."

"Why do you think he got so angry?"

"I said I didn't want to see him again. He said that was not possible."

"Do you think he was asked to bring you to see Best Friend?"

"I am not allowed to see Best Friend anymore."

"I've not spoken with Best Friend since you ran away from the house, but I know he'll be worried about you. I think he'd like to see you to make sure you're ok. If he calls me again would you like me to ask him about this?"

"Yes. I miss him." Stephanie sat beside him and asked how long it was since he first met Best Friend. "I can't remember; he took me from the hospital."

"Do you remember which hospital?"

"No, I was kept in my room."

"Was this a bad time for you?"

"Yes, that is why Best Friend helped me. It took a long time but I don't know how long." He was beginning to show signs of stress so they backed off. Renton asked if he would like some chocolate and the smile returned. They left to go to the hospital, but the visit was in vain. Upon arrival they were told that the manager had died – a blood clot in his brain. Both Stephanie and Renton were saddened, yet used to being told of unnecessary deaths.

"Jesus Steph, this means that we have to arrest Man, which hospital did they take him to?"

"I don't know. I'll phone Adams at the station and get him to check with the doctor." It took a while for him to reply.

"He was sent to the R.V.I. - Aren't you there already?" She said they were and thanked him. When they checked with admissions they were given his ward number. He wasn't there and hadn't officially discharged himself.

"Just sod's law isn't it? He probably walked out as we came in. Ring uniform Steph and get them on to this pronto, I'm going to see the doctor who examined him." The doctor was just as surprised as Renton.

"He won't get very far. I gave him a lot of morphine because of the pain he was in, after I reset his jawbone. There's also a crack on the same side in his cheekbone, which we will have to look at again when the swelling subsides a little. Perhaps we should search the hospital and the grounds because the dosage of morphine was intended to put him to sleep; I had to give him enough to knock out a horse."

The uniformed officers were diverted to the hospital grounds while Renton and Stephanie helped in checking out the hospital interior. They found him in another ward and deduced he must have gone to the toilet and lost his way. The staff nurses were a little embarrassed but not as much as the police would have been if he had evaporated from right under their noses. A relay team of officers was posted to his bed until he could be discharged into police care once more. Man had slept through most of this charade and had no idea that upon waking he would be charged with the killing of the manager of the Mission.

*

It was highly unusual for Adams to be so belligerent. Renton knew that he was right but had one eye on Bradstock's unpredictability. Adams wouldn't budge.

"Listen Boss, I'm delighted with the help from London, but there's still something not right. Why would Carl Kennedy offer up two big hitters of the drugs ring from the Colony in the Capital to escape his employers in Salford? I've spoken to Gilbert again and he agrees that these casino people are not equipped to handle a face-off with the organisation controlling the names Kennedy gave him. It smells of a fit-up. This neighbour bothers me as well – he was too keen to leave Hendricks' house and let me look around, just to make coffee. He could've boiled Hendricks' kettle without leaving me. It also gave me a chance to discover the body in the garage. Finally, if he was busy knocking off the alarm system, how did he not hear this Sol Greenwood switch off the car engine? And the story of him having the instant idea of handcuffing him to the wheel, then tying his feet is just bullshit. We're being steered to where somebody wants us to go. If it's so important for them to do this, it's even more important that we don't fall for it. Kennedy doesn't need witness protection; he's part of the plan. It'll look worse for us if we don't cover this move."

"This is a big call Ben. I can see your reasoning, but Nige operates from the principle that his own survival comes before anything else. Sam is already following up missing persons, and with you gone, I'm going to have difficulty in coping with Bradstock's fountain of wisdom on what the priorities are. Can't you do what you have to do with Gilbert by phone?"

"I think that time is critical, and I don't quite know how to put this – should Gilbert have seen this himself?"

"Oh shit, you're right. My head doesn't seem to be where it should be at the moment. Get on your way before I change my mind."

Renton confessed to Stephanie that he felt like an air traffic controller who was confined to two dimensions. "I'm losing grip on where we are, because we've got so many moving targets. There's one exception – forensics seem to be at a standstill. Listen Steph, we can't afford any more time on these internet threads. I know we might miss something, but it's a question of priorities. Ben's right, our best shots lie with him and Sam at the moment. I'd like you to check something out which may just help Adams, in case he runs in to trouble getting information out of London. Can you find out if Hendricks' company – Kingston Allied Investments, has seen a change of shareholders recently? I will pay a visit to Clive Donoghue to see what he's up to."

While on his way he was alerted to an incoming call. It was Frank.

"A rather unfortunate state of affairs, don't you think Inspector? My enquiries have yielded little, hence my call. One of my people has visited the Mission and determined that an altercation occurred between two other associates of mine. I now know of the death of the manager, rather sad I must say. I have to assume that you know more of the whereabouts of these two people than I do. Can you confirm that?"

"I am beginning to get annoyed about your fickleness in sticking to your declaration over communication. You terminated this conduit, don't you remember?"

"You sound prickly Inspector Renton. I am merely asking if you can tell me anything about two missing persons, as a worried member of the public."

"You just choose to ring me when you feel it's necessary, what's in this for me?"

"Very well, in that case it is you who should begin to worry about specific members of the public again. Unless you can tell me whether you have my colleague with the walking impediment, you will have another case to investigate."

"Ok, enough of this crap; we are holding him because he will be charged with mortally wounding the manager of the Mission. He has to face this accusation – that is the law. I'm afraid you'll have to get by without him for a long time."

"Ah, the law, that noble sentiment which deludes itself that justice is seen to be delivered. I used to believe that too. My rules now work differently. I assume then that you have Friend in custody too, well that is fine for now. However, unless you release the person with the limp, I will issue warning of the consequences on both the internet and your precious internal database. Think hard Inspector."

Jack Renton scolded himself for not keeping his temper under control. He kept the indiscretion to himself. It was getting late, so he skipped his visit to forensics and went home.

# Chapter 16

After a sleepless night the last face he wanted to see was that of Bradstock. Before he was subjected to more scatter-brained ideas, he took the initiative.

"I had another call from Frank late last night. He knows we have two of his people held in custody. I'm afraid he has issued a threat to resume his original agenda unless we release the one with the limp. Despite me telling him that the police can't bargain with anyone other than legal representatives over releasing a suspect, let alone a self-confessed killer, he sees it as simple arithmetic. He is going to start posting stuff again, including the Intranet. It looks like your boys in London are in for another testing time." He was ready for a tirade when he disclosed that Adams and Gibson were not going to be present, and would miss his touch of genius in propelling the investigation forward.

"Well, that's all I need Jack. You were absolutely right to tell this moron we aren't going to do any deals with him. Let me know if you need any further resource as a contingency against his prosecution of this threat. I'm terribly sorry to leave like this but if he is about to infiltrate our system again the London people will need my guidance to be at hand."

"I'll run you to the airport or the train Sir."

"No, not at all, just call me another taxi. You need to prepare for what he is going to throw at you. I'd rather take the train, as it takes forever to get from Heathrow to the city, and it is impossible to do any work on the damned aircraft these days with the number of less savoury characters on board; it is akin to a cattle truck in the sky."

"Well, good luck with the I.T. boys Sir. I'll keep you up to date on things at this end."

*

He sat back in his chair and shook his head, but gave Stephanie the good news.

"Yeah, that's great Sir, but I have just had confirmation that Clyde Hendricks' business did have a re-shuffle of shares, but not a partial one. The transfer of the entire stock is now owned by 'The High Road Group' and was finalised well before Hendricks' termination. In fact, if Greg Watson's estimated time of death of the headless woman is correct, and the victim is Martha Blake, her brother had sold out the business before she died. You don't look too pleased Sir; surely this is better news than simply getting rid of that wanker Bradstock for a few days." He smiled and nodded.

"That's not a word which fits with your new smart image. Have you told Adams?"

"No, I'm just going to do it now." She returned to her desk to see there was an image on her screen. It was a photograph of a section of Hadrian's Wall. The accompanying message stated that a barely competent detective would be able to figure out which section it was, and that Inspector Renton would fit that description. It ended with what would be revealed at the location, if it was not discovered first by a member of the public, promising the sixth corpse. 'This one missed out in becoming part of the composite found in Tynemouth Priory because it was particularly special. Circumstances have altered and so must the consequences'.

The mood changed abruptly and Renton asked Stephanie if she could use Google Earth to recognise any landmarks which fitted with the image. He asked uniform to provide a car to take him when they had the coordinates. He also requested both Watson and Donoghue to join him. He paused for a minute or so, mentally debating whether to inform Bradstock, and chose not to at this stage.

It didn't take long to narrow the choice to one of two sites. The proximity of a river and the outline of a fort suggested it was either Corbridge Roman Town or Chester's Fort near Chollerford. The latter had a better fit to Frank's image, and it was less likely to attract attention. The sack was found at the deepest point of one of the corner excavations from the past. The weather was atrocious, blinding rain mixed with sleet. It was carefully lifted out by the additional uniformed support, and then Donoghue proceeded to loosen the tie with tongs. The body parts were wrapped in muslin but there were just two of them. When the first was unwrapped it indicated what they could expect from the second. The right-hand side of a female body had been sawn and separated from the other half, having one leg, one arm, half a head and no heart. The surprise was that the second package was from another person. It was the left side. The revelation of two hearts in this one seemed to be symbolic to Renton, as Watson proceeded carefully, talking into his recorder. The whole scene became utterly grotesque as the two parts were placed alongside one another without the shielding of the muslin. They hurriedly took photographs before re-wrapping the parts in the muslin to avoid evidence degradation by the elements. One of the young uniformed officers wobbled away from the gruesome apparition and apologised for throwing up into the ancient fort. The recovery vehicle had arrived and the evidence was taken away. Renton stayed with Donoghue, whose team was expected to arrive imminently. He wanted to stay in case there was any forensic optimism left behind. He thought this might be the case, because this had not been planned, and therefore executed in a very short time.

*

Ben Adams pondered the news from Stephanie. Apart from Hendricks' surrendering his company earlier than Kennedy had indicated, it began to throw more doubt on the whole situation. He decided on caution and kept this information to himself for now. He rang Stephanie back and asked her to check out the registered name of the occupier next door to Hendricks.

"Do it from there, I don't want any more enquiries to go through the London force. Get back to me as soon as you can."

"Ok, the Boss says I should let you know there are another two bodies courtesy of Frank. Well, two half-bodies actually. He's at Chollerford right now and we're kind of short-handed. He asked if it was possible to bring Sam back as soon as you can."

"Jesus. Another two murders; why has Frank's sick mind flared up again? Never mind Steph, if you can get me the information I want on Hendricks' neighbour I'll come back myself. Sam needs to get through his list even if all it does is eliminate the names on it. I'll feel a bit safer checking out the London connection from a distance. It smells of corruption."

*

Renton's mental fortitude was under siege. A new attack came from an unexpected source. Jane had been trying to reach him on his mobile for some time, but it was switched off. When she finally got through, with the help of the Newcastle station, she was livid.

"So, it seems that if it's not to do with work, it decreases in priority. I'm just ringing to let you know your son has had an accident. He was in a crash in a cross-country bike race and has a lot of injuries. His left leg is broken and he's punctured a lung. The doctors are also worried about his spine. They can't see any evidence of serious damage from the scans, but his reflexes aren't responding normally. They are doing more tests. If you have the time he's in Edinburgh General, although he wouldn't want to drag you away from your work." The tone of bitterness struck at an already weakened ability to rationalise what was actually going on. He felt like an observer of life from a distant perch, without any real means of effecting control. His response was badly measured.

"Jane, I'm on my way. I didn't even know he was in a damned bike race. This is why I wanted to take the job in statistics. I can only...."

"Oh right, it's probably my fault then for talking you out of it. The only reason you didn't know he was in a bike race is because you don't care enough. I thought we were seeing a new Jack Renton a couple of years ago, but old habits die hard. Anyway, Daniel's welfare is the most important thing on my mind at present. I suppose we'll see you soon, unless something more urgent crops up."

"Jane I'm sorry. Can we...." The disconnect click rang loudly in his mind as well as his ears. He informed Stephanie and was relieved that Adams had already decided to come back. He also made an impulse call to Bradstock.

"I've just had some bad news about my son, he's got critical injuries, and is hospitalised in Edinburgh. I have to take some compassionate leave. You mentioned extra resourcing before you left for London. Can you consider doing that now Sir?"

"Of course I can. You had better just get to the hospital. Leave it with me and I'll sort it out with Adams." He left and headed up the A-68 at an excessive speed, until he began to recover control of the conflicting emotions which were repetitively coursing through his mind and stomach simultaneously.

*

Adams needed no further encouragement to head for home. Stephanie's checks through council and electoral registry channels had delivered the information he wanted. The occupier turned out to be Howard Freeman, the very person Carl Kennedy claimed to have put Hendricks in touch with the casino, about the loan request. Adams could no longer believe that D.C.I. Gilbert didn't know this, maybe he didn't want to know. He concluded that the Frankenstein enquiry only needed to know how these irregularities connected to Martha Blake, if indeed she was relevant to Frank's antics in Tynemouth. He returned Stephanie's call and asked her to begin a similar search for Martha's son.

"Hendricks said his name was Dermot, but we can't take that as solid in view of your recent findings. Let's start with Blake and his date of birth registration. There can't be many in this district of London. Thanks Steph, I hope this isn't going to interfere with your romantic commitment."

"Get a life Sir, or even a romantic commitment yourself. You could do with a makeover too. I think there's only Angela in forensics, who rates your fashion sense." He laughed awkwardly and thought, 'Angela, I'd never have guessed'.

*

Sam Gibson had hit a jackpot of sorts. His trail of the one remaining name of the genitalia-free corpse had led him from Manchester itself to Greater Manchester, Salford to be precise. Coincidences like this were the staple diet of a ferret like Sam. Brett Driscoll was still officially missing but the officers on the case agreed off the record that he had probably been whacked by the mob. Not only that, he had worked for the people running businesses for the Midwest arm of the Colony, amongst which was the casino operations of the North West. He was able to get a recent photo of Driscoll. His intuition to connect this man to Carl Kennedy went in a tangential direction, to the young London officer's assertion that Hendricks had not reported Martha Blake missing. He spoke to the officer by phone and asked if he would take a look at an uploaded photo of Driscoll. He had no hesitation in identifying him as the person who posed as Hendricks that day. The address given became more important now, but Sam was certain they had the identity of Frank's thirty-three year-old victim from the Priory. When he passed this on to Adams, he was instructed to come back to Newcastle. He was annoyed about this until he heard of Renton's plight and Adams' declaration of corruption in the Capital.

"Sam, we now know that the neighbour of Hendricks' is Howard Freeman, the very guy who set him up."

"Shit, that does make a difference, I'm on my way." There was a general feeling that the case was beginning to crack open. It was not shared by Jack Renton, who was staring at his son. Daniel had physically cracked open.

# Chapter 17

There was more tension between Jane and Renton. After a long and tearful vigil in the intensive care unit, he said he was going back to Newcastle, and would return in the morning.

"I can't say that it surprises me after all these years. You run away from any situation you can't handle, other than chasing the scum of society. I can keep you up to date with Daniel's condition by text, and that would avoid me having to get annoyed at the unobtainable message. You know, you'd be able to take the text at your convenience."

"Listen just for a moment Jane."

"No, you listen, we're through for good this time Jack. Daniel and I just get in your way and somehow we always feel guilty about it. We've had enough. Maybe you were right, I shouldn't have talked you out of the statistics job, but I did it because I knew you wouldn't be happy. I really need to look for my own happiness now, and I think Daniel feels the same. We've been let down too many times, and whereas he could brush this off when he was a nipper, he's now an adult. Of course there's the moments when you are his hero, but it's the bits in between which hurt him most. I don't think you should come to the house any more. It shouldn't be a big sacrifice as you don't come much anyway."

"All I wanted to say was that I came up here without giving much thought to practical things like clean clothes. I wanted to go and collect them and drive back immediately, then stay for as long as it takes to get Daniel back to good health. I'm on indefinite compassionate leave, and my absence is being covered. If it bothers you I'll just go into the city here and buy some new stuff."

"Do what you like Jack. This is about Daniel. It doesn't change my view of the rest."

Renton was rudderless and walked into the high streets of Edinburgh. He bought a few casual clothes suitable for killing time in the hospital. He knew Jane was right about the stats job, and he couldn't even trust himself to stick it out if he re-applied for it. For the first time he could remember, he called Adams and said he wanted no incoming calls until further notice. Ben tried to be helpful by giving him a summary of the recent success, but he was cut off.

"No exceptions Ben. I'll call you when things change."

*

Bradstock had allocated two detectives from Durham to help Adams cover the ground. He was delighted with the new leads, and also felt they had made a breakthrough in plugging the dam with respect to Frank getting on to the Intranet system again. The new recruits were young detective constables, which suited Adams. He informed Stephanie they were to report to her, while he and Sam tracked down the son of Martha Blake.

"Another two toy-boys for you Steph, be careful with them – they are inexperienced. I must say you do look ravishing again today."

"Piss off Sir. You might just change your mind when you meet my friend, who doesn't yet qualify as my boyfriend. You've been dying to ask that question, haven't you?"

"Touchy aren't we, yes I was little bit curious. Now, I'm going to forensics to catch up with Donoghue on the latest two bodies."

"Not Angela then?"

He shook his fist at her and said he'd be calling on Greg Watson as well. He didn't get much from Donoghue other than they had a lot of samples to test. However, Watson immediately declared that they had missed something at the discovery site.

"It's not surprising because it was raining hard, and we wanted the bodies back here as soon as we could, to avoid important clues being washed away. There wasn't any point in putting up a tent. Anyway, both bodies were incomplete. The first one, a female with the heart missing, was also without a finger. The second, with two hearts, also a female was missing a toe. Does that ring any bells?"

Adams reacted immediately. "They're the victims whose finger and toe were given to us by Frank, well actually by Friend."

"Indeed they are. However before you get too excited, I can't tell you whether these people had the respective digits amputated before or after death. The appendages and the half-bodies had been frozen for some time, and this has resulted in my calculations estimating a similar time period for both. What is not in doubt is the approximate time of death of each person. They were terminated around the same time as the first two from Frank's second video, the armless and legless young men. They were also butchered with the same accuracy and precision; I hesitate to use the word care."

"So they were already dead when Frank promised Renton that there would be no more victims if he respected the predicament of Friend. Well that was a lie then, and the Boss really believed him. It means there could be many more, lined up to rap our knuckles whenever he has a tantrum. There's no longer any justification for playing to this guy's rules, or even communicating with him. If he wants to contact us, that will happen, but we should not reply anymore. If there are more corpses stored away, we may as well know about them now, as it is no longer a case of trying to save their lives."

"Maybe," said Watson, "Jack was quite hopeful that because these two half-bodies were produced at very short notice, he might have made a mistake which can be picked up by forensics. I suppose it is also worth considering what kind of deep freeze facility he has if he has been keeping more corpses for periods of up to a year. It would require an industrial scale facility, especially if he performs his surgery in the same place. I would have thought it would appear odd to the equipment supplier, unless he is registered as a company. Here I go, playing detective again, don't tell Jack. How is he?"

"We don't know yet, and he said he'd call when he knew more about Daniel's prognosis. You've made a good point Greg about Frank hiding behind a company name. I'll get Sam on to it when we find the time."

*

When Renton had showered and changed at the hospital, he felt more at ease, but it didn't last long. Jane looked him up and down, and then shook her head.

"What is it now?" he said, "like you insisted, this is about Daniel; nothing else matters then, does it?"

"Please Jack, spare me the injured pride. I really don't care what you wear, but I thought you might." She cast her eye once more over the yellow tracksuit bottoms with a broad green stripe down each side. Her sense of colour compatibility was offended already, and was further irritated by the rather faded puce sweater.

"They were cheap, and they're clean, ok?"

"I can see that they are cheap; I'll take your word that they are clean." A sarcastic smile pushed him over the edge.

"Jane, you've lambasted me, because in your opinion I'm never there when I'm really needed. Well, we all have opinions, and in my humble version you've always had a pretentious side to your character, which is at odds with the Samaritan image you try to project. If it's an appropriate time for you to pick faults with things that aren't really important, then at least admit you're a hypocrite. It's back to plan A, I'm going back home to pick up some of my own clothes. I feel helpless enough here without listening to your inconsequential crap. I'll be back in a few hours, and before you say anything, I'm not going to work. Here's my phone, keep it switched off. If this trip does nothing other than provide both of us with a breathing space, to concentrate on what's happening in intensive care, it'll be worth it. When I get back, I hope you'll just leave the past where it should be – in the past. I think there are three of us who have to get on with our lives; you aren't unique in that sense." He stormed out of the hospital without a backward glance. Jane suddenly felt guilty. He had never fired back at her like that. She regretted her petty remarks and was shaken by the accusation of being pretentious.

*

The extra hands to the pump were re-allocated to both Stephanie and Sam. The hunt for Martha Blake's son was conducted by Steven Jones, under the guidance of Stephanie, while Sam directed James Bradley on finding out more about Brett Driscoll.

The initial keywords employed for the records trawl were, 'Blake, Male, Eighteen, and Putney'. The printout had nicely narrowed down the possibilities, and as expected, none had the name Dermot. There were three named Blake, with the corresponding age. Putting in the actual birth date simply eliminated all names, so the three had to be cross referenced to the Putney birth registration database. None of them tied up, so Stephanie concluded that the boy must have been born at a different address, and Martha Blake had many. She asked Steven Jones to check with the hospitals in Putney, while she reset the keywords to more precise addresses. He struck lucky. Two of the three were born in hospital. There was no record of the third. The registered address of one of them matched with one Stephanie was about to check. His name was Robert Alexander Blake. Running this through Google led them to a Facebook link. They had him, but there was a shock in store. His picture clearly showed he was in a wheelchair. They didn't want to use a social network site to communicate with him, but they determined he was posting from an IP address in Southampton. A few phone calls to the local council revealed that his address on the electoral register was a care home – Broad Meadows. Adams took a decision to send Stephanie. He stressed to her that this had to be handled with great care.

"I think he may respond better to a woman Steph, but above all, we need to get everything we can in one shot. I can foresee problems if we have to revisit him. There has to be a reason why he's there, and I think someone may be keeping an eye on him. His profile on Facebook indicates he is, or was enrolled in the Territorial Army."

*

Sam and James Bradley had not been so successful. The address given by the London officer, who recorded Brett Driscoll's report of Martha Blake being missing, was as expected false. It was a London address. So they reverted to looking in the Greater Manchester area. Nothing significant came up, and then Sam recalled that D.C.I. Forster, from the Midwest force had reliable tentacles into that arm of the Colony. He called Forster and briefed him about the case, adding Renton's current problems with his son.

"It is quite a serious situation with the young man otherwise the Boss would be making this call. Anything you can find out would be appreciated Sir."

"Leave it with me Sam; the guy's name is vaguely familiar."

*

When Renton turned on to his drive he noticed something strange. The bedroom curtains were drawn, and he never did that when leaving the house in the morning. He was suddenly apprehensive about what he was going to find. As stealthily as he could, he skirted the house and found that the rear French doors had a perfect circle of glass removed, to give access to the locking lever. He opened the door carefully in the foggy darkness of the evening. He couldn't see clearly but everything seemed normal. He tiptoed toward the kitchen, and then he heard a door binding on its hinges. He thought it came from upstairs. The second bedroom was where he kept stuff from work, in a set of drawers. His first impulse was to call for back-up, but then he remembered he had stupidly thrown his mobile phone at Jane, and he had ditched his landline months ago.

A faint aroma flared his nostrils, and it was familiar. He felt a compulsion to climb the stairs, but his police head checked that move. He waited, but there was no further hint of anyone's presence. There was a torch in the kitchen drawer. It had always been stiff to open, and he had always intended to fix it. As he wrestled with it he was aware for the first time that his hands were shaking ever so slightly. He took the torch and grabbed the largest kitchen knife from the nearby rack. This reflex action flooded his mind with the edict of 'reasonable force' and he now knew how this ridiculous semantic bullshit felt. The compulsion returned briefly but then he began to think as the intruder. If he was still here, he would surely have heard the car arrive. He would be aware of Renton entering the house.

"I know you're there, and you know I'm here. You can't get away so let's make this simple." There was no response and he bluffed about alerting the station. "I'm a police officer, but I guess you know that. I've texted my people and a squad car is on its way. Don't make it worse for yourself."

He heard another noise and reasoned that it could be the second bedroom window stay being opened. He had already convinced himself that this wasn't a random burglary. Surely it was more likely to be connected to the case. He proceeded to climb the stairs very slowly. The intruder could have a firearm. There could be more than one of them. He paused and thought about switching on the light instead of using the torch. His erratic decision-making was being influenced by the thought of losing the intruder. He raced back down to the kitchen and shone his torch into the garden directly below the second bedroom window. His heart-rate spiked as he saw the outline of a man. A microsecond later there was a blinding flash. He had no time to process this, as he was struck a ferocious blow on the back of the head. He slumped to the floor but was still conscious, and an image of footwear was imprinted in his mind. His reflexes took over and he tried to haul himself back on to his feet, everything seemed to flow into a vortex of blackness.

When he recovered consciousness, he crawled to a chair and felt a stabbing pain in his right hand as he tried to pull himself upwards. He had unknowingly gripped the knife blade extremely tightly in the short time between the two blows to his head. It had cut a deep wound across his palm. He staggered outside and to his neighbour's front door. The woman was shocked, and shouted for her husband to assist, while she called the police and ambulance emergency. He insisted on speaking to the police before being whisked away to hospital.

"Get D.I. Ben Adams to come to the hospital as soon as he can. He will want forensics to check the house. You do know who I am, don't you?"

"Yes Sir. I'll get on to the station immediately, they will have his number."

"No, ring him now, I know his number, Christ I've rung it every day for more than fifteen years. Keep this crime scene pristine until Adams can get Clive Donoghue here." He was bundled into the ambulance despite his protests. He wasn't aware of how bad the gaping head wound really was.

# Chapter 18

When Adams had told Jane about Renton's attack and the delayed concussion, she told him to come up with a more original excuse for him not returning to Edinburgh. When he suggested that she rang the hospital, she broke down in tears.

"What on Earth is wrong between you two Jane? I thought you must have known he took leave, and left instructions for nobody to contact him until he was ready. Why did he come back? He muttered something to me about clean clothes, but I just put that down to the knock on the head."

"It's my fault Ben, I lashed out at him about a lot of things, and he did drive back to pick up stuff he'd need for a long stay here. Please tell him I'm sorry."

"I will when he's had more rest. At the moment he's not making any sense. How's Daniel?"

"The doctor in charge of the I.C.U. says he's making progress. He's breathing more comfortably and has longer spells with his eyes open. His reflexes are improving and they are optimistic that there is no serious spinal damage. I'll keep you informed so you can let Jack know it looks like he's on the mend."

*

Stephanie was a little nervous as she was shown into the private room of Robert Alexander Blake, because the Facebook photo had shown him in a wheelchair, and the male nurse attending him had mentioned that he was a double amputee.

"Hello Robert, I'm D.S. Stephanie Baker, from Newcastle. I'm here to ask if you can help us, we're trying to find your mother."

"My name is Robert Alexander, but I have always been called Alex. Why are you asking about my mother all over again?"

"Well, the case isn't closed, and we're really trying to get our hands on something which has her DNA. If we can compare it with yours, we may have a means of tracing her."

"How will my DNA help?"

"Didn't the London police explain that to you when she disappeared?"

"No."

"Did they ask you for a sample of your DNA?

"No."

"That is strange. Your DNA will have your mother's mitochondrial DNA reflected in it. So if we can compare your sample with any missing persons, whose bodies we subsequently find, it would really help us to tell if they were your mother."

"I see, but you haven't asked me if I'm interested in finding her now."

"I'm sorry. I just assumed that you would. Is there any reason why you wouldn't want to?"

"It's a long story, but I don't want to go into all that misery again. Anyway, what kind of things are you looking for from her possessions?"

"There are many items which could help us, for example, a toothbrush, skin cells from clothing, blood, a hairbrush. I can get a full list for you if it will help."

"I don't have a hairbrush, but I kept some of her hair. I cut some of it off when she was out of it with the drugs. Her hair was long and when she passed out she sometimes rolled over on to her stomach, and her hair restricted her breathing. I didn't want her to suffocate or choke on her vomit. When I served abroad for the Territorials, I took a lock with me in a little metal box, together with her photo. We had a big argument and we weren't speaking to each other. It seemed to make sense at the time. Do you want it?"

Stephanie felt a rush of anticipation that this could be a jackpot moment, but it was followed by guilt at the plight which had befallen this young man.

"That would be much appreciated, and if you can give me a swab for your DNA, we will have a perfect tool to help find her."

Before she left, she shared a cup of tea with him and promised she would personally come back to see him with the results. She resisted asking more questions until Donoghue had full comparisons of these samples with the DNA from the head of the Priory corpse.

*

Bradstock had been informed of Jack Renton's situation. Cousins had taken on the burden of telling him, at the request of Adams. Bernard Cousins was more than happy to oblige, as he had some news of his own to report.

"It may not be of significance in the Frankenstein case Ben, but the rest of Sandy Evans' body has been washed up at the mouth of the river Wear. It was spotted almost directly opposite the intersection between Roker Avenue and Dame Dorothy Street, on the A-183. It's badly disfigured and rotted, which makes it unrecognisable but the DNA matches the severed arm. One curious thing we noticed under the clothing, which was still intact, was a body belt. When we removed it there were pockets around the entire perimeter, all facing his body. There were credit cards, phone numbers alongside coded references rather than names, and a few plastic membership cards for various sleazy clubs in Sunderland, Middlesbrough and Durham. Amongst these was one for a casino. The logo and name weren't familiar to us, but it had a list of locations where it was possible for punters to lose their assets. The list majored on London, Glasgow, Leeds, and Birmingham, but amongst the others was Salford."

"That's interesting Sir, are you going to follow this up as part of your investigation?"

"Yes we are, and I'll be telling Bradstock of our intention. It's part of standard procedure to find Sandy Evans' killer. I hope you agree."

"Absolutely, I suppose you'll alert me if you find any kind of connection to the Colony in the Midwest and London. I have particular interest in Sol Greenwood, Howard Freeman, Carl Kennedy and Brett Driscoll. Thanks for the tip Sir, and for speaking with the Chief on behalf of Jack. The last thing we need right now is another visit."

"No problem, and give my best to Renton."

Adams was mulling over this news, while he was driving to the hospital to see how the Boss was doing. His heart sank when the mobile ringtone was accompanied by the screen flashing 'Bradstock'.

"Adams."

"I have just heard about Jack. What else can you tell me?"

"Not much at the moment Sir, I have to pull over, hold on. Yes, I'm on my way to see him now, and I hope his memory of the events of this attack will be restored once the concussion is relieved. There's not much else I can say at present, other than we've got forensics at the house. We can't be sure that it was a random burglary which he interrupted."

"Ok, I understand. Keep me up to date. I can't get away right now because we have, well this American chap actually, full confidence that Frank is now locked out of our system. I want to be here to make sure it is not another false dawn. Give Jack my best wishes for a speedy recovery. You have two extra people now, is that enough?"

"Yes it is. Thank you Sir." Adams was glad there was something to keep Bradstock away from the Northeast, while he was holding the fort.

*

Sam Gibson took the call from Forster with his usual matter of fact level of expectation. It shifted up a gear pretty quickly.

"This Driscoll character has a chequered reputation within the Colony. He is originally from London and there were apparently some issues which put the skids on his meteoric rise through the authority ranks. He was considered to be lacking in the subtleties of extortion, tending to be more direct. He was given a timeout by moving to the Midwest, but the top guys up here never trusted him, thinking he was a plant. He had been given a temporary project of tidying up the casino business here. It didn't go too well and he was bumped down a peg or two. The word is that he was stuck up here and hated it, but as we all know, it's difficult to apply for other careers once you have reached a certain level of knowledge with these people. What may interest you most is his decision to bring Carl Kennedy to Salford. That's all I have at present Sam, but if I hear more I'll pass it on."

"Thank you Sir, there has to be something in this. We'll get on to it somehow."

*

Kurt Eisel was never even remotely interested in the internet, but even he hadn't escaped the continual world news channels obsession with the Frankenstein copycat reports. Most of the time, he was engaged in exploratory trips to regions of the planet which were still relatively undiscovered. However, in order to get there he had to pass through infrastructure zones which bombarded him with news. Gradually he began to realise from the reports that it had all started in the Northeast of England. As usual, journalists fed on morsels of fact which could be embroidered with speculation. One such claim referred to the perpetrator apparently using an unknown method of erasing painful memories of the people he was trying to help. It went on to say that the murders were, in the mind of the killer, a just means of bringing awareness to the plight of these 'unfortunates'. As these reports were partially constructed from posts which Frank had made himself, the possible connection slowly dawned on Eisel. Several times he dismissed this as a premature conclusion, but the news reports just kept on reminding him of how widespread the interest was. This ebb and flow was intruding into his prime interest in life, and during the spells when he was thrust back into 'normal' society, he became even more restless.

*

Renton was a little more upbeat after the ordeal of brain scans and a multitude of stitches in his scalp. A small circular patch of hair had been removed prior to the procedure and Adams noticed it immediately.

"Have you found anything at the house Ben? I'm still having difficulty bringing back the sequence of events."

"Nothing significant yet Boss, keep your hair on."

"Yeah, yeah, it'll probably take a while to grow back."

"It's just as well you were going bald anyway."

"No more bullshit. Have you heard anything more from Jane, I mean apart from what you said yesterday?"

"Yes, that's why I'm here. Daniel is going to be ok, although it's likely to take a long time for a full recovery, maybe a few months. He is being advised that a transfer to Newcastle R.V.I. will take place as soon as he is out of the intensive care unit. That's due to happen tomorrow."

"Thank God for that. I need to change my life priorities Ben, as soon as we put this bastard Frank to bed."

"Listen Boss, you're the one who's been put to bed for now. Take the time you have to be in here to do your lifestyle thinking, and leave the damned Frank crap to me. We've got extra help from Lord Nigel, who sends his regards. I'm going to keep you up to speed with your house break-in, but unless there's any definite connection to the other stuff, it's going to be all personal chat, or I won't come – got it?"

"Yes Detective Inspector Adams Sir. Now get me some decent coffee, and one for yourself."

The doctor was doing his rounds, so Adams took the opportunity to ask about Renton's concussion. He was assured that he'd be back to normal in a few days. "Whatever normal is for him, I think we'll all be happy to see him go home."

# Chapter 19

Frank had been virtually silent since the two half-bodies were dumped at Chollerford. His frustration had however been on the rise since he found he could no longer get access to the police Intranet. He began to compensate by renewed activity online. The first post on Frankenstein.com was accompanied by a graphic picture of the exact moment that Donoghue had removed the muslin from the two packages. The post read – 'A day in the life of one person is mirrored by the discovery of death and mutilation of another. Such is our pathetic acceptance of the incompetence of the ruling elite. The competence of the police is only fractionally superior, as can be seen by the non-arrival of the transport for the remains. They were told where to look. Short of offering to drive them to the site, what more could have been done?' There was a promise to display the matching halves of the bodies on the site, or another one, if this one was shut down. Gathered around Stephanie's desk, the entire team was not so much shocked as resigned to more killings being reported.

*

There was some good news in the pipeline. Donoghue had almost finished the DNA work on the samples from Stephanie's visit to Southampton. If the hair was definitely from Martha Blake, then she was Alex's mother, as shown by mitochondrial DNA. The more intriguing prospect was that the preliminary markers of the same hair were indicating positive correlation with the head of the Priory corpse. This precipitated Adams to grab a felt pen and begin scribbling on the whiteboard. When he had finished he assembled the others to comment on the content.

From left to right:-

Armless corpse \- Rory Davenport - Protester, 22.

Legless corpse \- not known, 18.

Headless Corpse \- Martha Blake? 43.

Corpse without torso – not known, 20.

Corpse without genitals – Brett Driscoll? 33.

Sam Gibson asked about the DNA samples of the parents of Reginald Powell.

"I left these with Donoghue so long ago I'd forgotten about them myself." A quick call resulted in Donoghue claiming the report had been issued. When Adams said that they hadn't seen it, Donoghue stated that he had the copy in front of him and it clearly showed that the person's DNA did not give a perfect match to that of the legs of the Priory corpse. Adams corrected him, by stating that it was DNA from both parents they were inquiring about. This produced no response at first, and then Donoghue cursed uncharacteristically. He went on to apologise, saying that there had been an error, and they would perform a re-test. He admitted that they had been under severe pressure in the last few days, but didn't dodge the responsibility. He did recall Sam asking about checking for a filial link, and promised to give the new test high priority.

"Ok, for the purposes of this discussion I'm going to claim that we have two definitely identified and one possible hit. I'm interested in finding a connection between them which could help in finding the other two. Come on, indulge me here."

The brainstorming brought up drugs, anti-social behaviour, organised crime, residence location, and many others. In trying to overlay any motive Frank's crusade might contribute, they returned to Sam Gibson's prior feeling that Frank himself was protesting about amoral attitudes and reflecting this in his choice of victims.

"I mentioned to Renton that the first two were perhaps treated differently because they 'represented' people who should not have died, whereas the others were treated with disdain. Now Greg Watson has said the latest two in Chollerford have also been accorded concern. If this is correct, it will be interesting to see his promised display of the other halves of the bodies, and any information attached, like the birth dates." There was agreement to resume this angle, as and when Frank kept this promise. Stephanie also remarked that nobody had come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Alex Blake's birth date and age was a match for Frank's numbers, but he obviously wasn't the victim.

"As the Boss said, this is too much of a coincidence, and I said I would let Alex know the result of the forensics test. I got the feeling that although he said he didn't want to talk about the misery of the time of his mother's disappearance, this might change his mind. It's almost certain she's the headless corpse, and that closure could get him to open up. It's worth a try." Sam endorsed this and Adams told her to go.

*

The activity in forensics began to stretch the available personnel. The latest half-bodies in particular were consuming much of the expertise. However, results so far had been disappointing. The condition of the corpses suffered as much from the near-arctic weather at Chollerford as they had by probably spending months in deep freeze. There was one exception to this trend. The electron microscope magnification of the bone severance points confirmed the tool which had been employed was typically used by surgeons conducting amputation procedures on the living. Donoghue claimed this was further support of his earlier declaration, and he was now confident that Frank had, at some time in his life, been a highly qualified surgeon. This opinion was only offered after Greg Watson had endorsed it. It provoked Adams to include it in the list of possible connections to the victims.

*

Frank had uploaded his video of the opposing halves of the two bodies to Frankenstein.com just as he had promised. He had also anticipated that the site wouldn't stay live for long, so he had listed many links to other sites whose owners had agreed to post the video. Just like the first two videos, this one proliferated faster than officialdom could close it down, and there was a consequent surge in global interest once more. The environment where it was shot looked the same, but the bodies were in a sitting position, and meticulously stitched together to emulate a single person. The message simply said, 'Is the glass half-full or half-empty? The answer is almost certainly related to your inherited destiny, social as well as genetic'. There were no number clues like those in the very first film, but Steven Jones brought Adams' attention to a tiny coloured mark on the breast of each corpse. It was in the same place on both. They checked with Greg Watson and Donoghue if the halves they had were similarly marked. The answer was negative, and they didn't think that all traces would have been removed by the bad weather at the fort.

Adams didn't want to bother Renton with this news, but he had a dilemma. The overstretched forensics department had also been wrestling with stuff at Renton's house. They had asked Ben Adams if the Boss had an expensive camera. He was pretty sure that he didn't, but asked why they wanted to know. Donoghue said they had found an empty flash cartridge box in the undergrowth, which was reported as being in the rear garden.

"It may have got there by accident, high winds possibly, or even the burglar. This is old technology - the kind of stuff that people like me would buy. Photography, like many other activities has been made so idiot-proof that it becomes a case of the camera telling the photographer what to do. This is the opposite. It has really spiked my interest. If Jack doesn't have a camera of this type, it could mean that someone was taking pictures of his home, and maybe over a period of time."

Adams was going to see Renton anyway and he knew how much the invasion of his home had ruffled him. He decided to mention the cartridge box. However, when he got to the ward, there was an empty bed where the Boss should have been. He was told that he was visiting his son. Daniel had been admitted and the doctor had agreed to Renton making the short walk. When he'd tracked them down, he asked Daniel how he was feeling and got a weak smile in return.

"I'm going to be ok, so they say, but I am bored. I've got at least another three weeks in here before I can even try to walk. They are more worried about my lung healing properly." He noticed that Daniel never looked at his father while they were talking. When they left, Renton said the doctor had only allowed him half an hour per visit, and Adams walked back with him to his ward. He eventually got to the camera.

"Ben, you've just broken a dream. I've been going over and over that scene. There was something I couldn't quite recall before I got smacked on the head. I remember the flash, but I thought it was a bright torch in my eyes, then wham! It wasn't a torch then, it was a flash from a camera. I was looking at the window when it happened. Now I can clearly see the reflection of the flash behind me, not in front. There was someone in the garden, so there was more than one person there. I can see the outline of the figure in the garden but no detail as yet. Then I was hit, presumably by the camera man."

"Take it easy Boss, I'm only telling you this because I know it's become personal. This changes things a bit. If what you've just told me is accurate, then we have to assume this wasn't a simple interrupted burglary, in which case it's off-limits to you."

"Yes, I know that Ben. I've got more important things to pursue. Daniel doesn't seem to want to make conversation with me, yet he was chatty with you. I need to put some mileage into my relationship with him while we're both confined in here."

*

The Crown Prosecutor was ready to charge Man, whose real name had been determined as Thomas Masters, with manslaughter. He had been obstructive in giving information leading to the discovery of his true identity. He had continually maintained that he had forgotten much of his earlier life. It took many hours of hypnotherapy to winkle out the starting point of his junior schooldays – a happy period of his young life. He was able to quote incredible detail of names, dates and events of the times he spent there. Piecing parts of the ramblings together, they developed sufficient data to check out the records of this school in Sheffield. Although it had been closed for a few years due to the appearance of a new centralised mega-campus, the records had thankfully been archived to computer storage. The recovery of the information included the names of teachers, and this proved crucial. The maths teacher was still alive, and when contacted had retained class photos, from which he pointed out Thomas Masters. This was then backed up with hospital birth records. The hypnotherapy ended with release of other locked memories. He was reaching into areas which had been buried by Frank's treatment. He was visibly upset by continual reference to his adolescent years, when most of the pain was related to the physical and emotional violence his father had administered to his mother. This charge against a named disciple was not good news for Frank.

When he added this to his shut-out from the Intranet he decided to act quickly. The first step was to take Friend back into his home. This was followed by his posting of the photograph which had captured the moment before Renton was struck from behind in his own kitchen. The picture clearly showed the man in the garden, the reflection of Renton and the photographer, in the window, as well as the true shot of the back of Renton's head. The man in the garden looked a little bit like Friend but was nothing like as tall. The photographer's reflected face was cropped out of the picture. The rest of his outline was difficult to see in the darkness but there was one source of reflected light from his hand. The ring was an unusual design and it appeared to have been added to the picture, rather than being worn at the time. Frank would not make such an obvious error.

This had just made Frankenstein.com before it shut down, and the links sent it to many other sites automatically. The magnification tool enabled the viewer to see the design of the ring, and it immediately re-ignited the debate over the meaning of the alpha-omega symbol, and how it fitted with this new one. The message asked how bumbling detectives were expected to solve the Frankenstein case, when they couldn't prevent or even identify the burglars of their own homes. It promised a further revelation of sloppy work from the Newcastle police, and suggested the investigation would benefit from a national manhunt.

# Chapter 20

"Hello again," said Stephanie, "I promised to come back to see you, but I'm afraid I don't have good news. I waited until we had conclusive proof one way or another. I'm saddened to be the bearer of the news that your mother is no longer alive." The young man's head dropped and his voice trembled.

"It's to do with that Frankenstein case, isn't it?"

"I'm not supposed to talk about any details of that case, so all I can say is that her death is part of our investigation."

"After you left I began to wonder why you came all the way from Newcastle to see me, when all of the other visits I've had were from the London police. I couldn't think of any other reason than this case, which is all over the internet, so I checked my laptop. I was expecting the worst."

"Can I ask you a few more questions?"

"Yes, of course." His voice was now decidedly unsteady and Stephanie noticed his difficulty in holding back his true emotions.

"You said last time that you had been serving abroad with the Territorials, where was that?"

"In Yemen; the same place as my Dad."

"Was this after he died?"

"Yes, and it was the cause of the final rift with my mother."

"In what way did it affect her?"

"Well, my Dad somehow kept the lid on her drug problem, and buffered me from the occasional fallout from it. When he died she got worse, and all my pittance of a salary went on getting her out of the shit time and time again. I couldn't reason with her at all. When I decided to see how my Dad had served his country, by registering my interest in Yemen, she just lost it completely and said I had deserted her. My Uncle Clyde tried to help by letting me stay with him, and said he would straighten her out again. Even he couldn't do that, as she got worse and started to deal as well as use. I left shortly after he tried to wash his hands of her debt. I hadn't been in Yemen more than a month when a group of us were hit by the debris from an exploding RPG. Six were killed instantly, and the rest suffered injuries of varying severity. I had really bad burns and shrapnel had made a terrible mess of my legs. Even though they had to be amputated above the knee, I was considered to be one of the lucky ones. Three of the wounded died within a week, and the remaining one was blinded and horribly disfigured. Now I'm not so sure I was the lucky one. Anyway, when I came home my mother couldn't handle my predicament and was in even deeper trouble than she was before, with narcotics. She said she couldn't stand the sight of me, and it was my own fault for not listening to her in the first place. She refused to look after me and Clyde took me in again for a short time. He later explained that he'd arranged for me to come here and had taken care of the financial side, because in his words the Government sponsored rehabilitation services were not even fit for battery hens. She went missing not long afterwards and despite my uncle's best efforts we never saw her again. Will you be telling him about this? I owe him a lot and I can ask him to come and see me rather than explain it over the phone. He comes every couple of months." Stephanie braced herself.

"Oh Alex, you mean the London police haven't told you? I'm terribly sorry, but your uncle died just recently."

"No, that can't be right, because the Broad Meadows staff would have told me."

"His death is being treated as suspicious."

Alex Blake could supress the welling flood no longer, and Stephanie hugged him as their tears flowed together.

*

Sam Gibson's tip from Forster about Brett Driscoll's cuckoo existence in the Midwest Colony took him back to the 'false' address they had found in London. James Bradley asked why he wanted to revisit this.

"Not me James, it's you I want to check further into it. We assumed this was false because we expected his abode to be in the Manchester area, but that was before we knew that he may have still been controlled from the Capital. The fact that the registered occupier of the London address was not him, wouldn't have seemed so strange if we'd known he was still on their payroll in some form. Chase up the name we were given, but not through the London police, as we don't want this to go past or through D.C.I. Gilbert."

Ben Adams, in Renton's absence now knew what it was like to be in the direct spotlight of Frank's mockery. He felt he had to show he was unaffected by it. Having Stephanie back, he gathered the team in the Boss' office.

"The internet is raging with speculation, not just about the case in general, but at how incompetent we seem to be. This is a time for cool heads. Some people think we erred in letting Eva Roberts go, but in fact the internet is providing its own profiling discussion. So let them get on with it. I'm confident that we are nudging closer to a breakthrough. Frank is rattled because things aren't going his way. He's shut out of our system now, so he's throwing the rattle out of his pram. It hurts to see the stuff he's putting out there, but we have the possibility of adding another identity to the two we already have. We're closing in on Brett Driscoll. Sam, I want Simon to help James with his general search, while I go to see Forster in the Midwest. It's safer than London and Forster knows his way around. Steph, I want you to go over the information we have on the 18 year-old legless corpse, because of what Alex Blake told you. Remember Sam saying that the first two corpses from the left of the second video could have been selected as representations of people Frank didn't want to die? Maybe they aren't dead, just abandoned in a shocking manner by those who should be caring for them. Alex Blake would be a perfect example, and his mother an example of those who had to pay. That could be one connection. Right let's get to it."

They were fired up again, but Stephanie couldn't resist a jibe.

"Sir, that's good thinking, and as far as Eva Roberts is concerned, it's all happening as we speak. Look at this."

The internet threads had already decided that the symbol on the ring was of Chinese origin, representing Yin Yang.

"It refers to polar or seemingly contrary forces being interconnected and interdependent, giving rise to each other in turn. There are lots of different takes on what bearing this has to the two half-bodies which were stitched together. Some say that it means twins; others suggest it's more likely to mean there are two personalities within every person. There's even one who is sure that they are both victims, but of different crimes. If we don't need Roberts, then who the hell is going to wallow through this mountain of treacle, to sketch in Frank?"

*

Jane was completely unprepared for Renton's admission.

"I've been thinking quite a lot about what you said when I first arrived in Edinburgh, and I take most of it on board. I have, over the years, buried myself in the job, and I now realise how difficult it must have been for you with a small child. I don't know why I couldn't see it at the time, but it's impossible to change the past. Looking to the future, and the need you expressed to get on with your life, I don't want to stand in your way. Daniel's life is just beginning and we've had a timely reminder of how fragile it can be. He's not really talking to me right now and I don't blame him. I'll give him the space to tell me exactly why in his own time. I know why you think it is, but that's only your opinion. I've therefore decided to get on with my own life, whatever that means. I'm staying here until he's discharged, and then I'll move on. I won't be pestering you to come around to the house anymore. I've had enough of that. Seeing your sequence of boyfriends when I used to arrive, after we first separated, seemed to render the visit pretty pointless. I'll see Daniel whenever he wants me to, but at my place or somewhere else. I've only just realised how tired I am of most of what I do. Like you, I seriously need a fresh start."

"It sounds like you're blaming me for criticising your attitude, when all I've ever done was to try to get you to look in the mirror."

"Ease up Jane, this isn't about you. Why does everything have to come back to what you think? I've just said I agree with you – accept it and get over it."

She began to cry. He walked back to his own ward to speak with the doctor about getting discharged. His short walk back was interrupted by his mobile phone ringing. He'd temporarily forgotten Jane had returned it to him. He dodged out of an exit as he answered the call.

"Renton."

"I know who it is Inspector."

"I thought you had decided to stop these calls."

"Yes, but we must all adapt to changes in circumstances." Renton's first reaction was to tell him to go to hell. What left his lips was something a little less antagonistic.

"Look, I'm in hospital and until that changes, I'm off the case. You're talking to the wrong man."

"No, I am speaking with the right man. You may be wondering why I say that, or how I came by your personal number. There is a very simple explanation. I wanted to know how you felt about being so close to me, you know when you were hit over the head. We have been close before – in Chopwell Woods initially, and then I was amongst the onlookers at the fort when I took the photo at Chollerford, and I was searching your house when you arrived unexpectedly." Renton tried to intervene but it was in vain. "I have what I wanted, and it is indeed revealing, but I intend to be fair, so I am offering you a chance to meet me. I will return your property, but I am afraid I will still use it to your disadvantage. That is the best I can do. If you decline, the world will know of it. I intend to call you back in one hour with instructions to meet, if you accept the invitation."

"Can I say something before you close the call?"

"You have thirty seconds."

"I'll meet you, but I have to wait until I'm discharged. Even you must understand that. I'll only do it on the condition that I know what it is that you propose to return to me, because I only have your word that you actually have something of mine. I got the impression that my intruders had been interrupted, and may not have found what they were looking for. I haven't had a chance to see if there is anything missing."

"Very well, I will call you again tomorrow, if that is convenient?"

"Fine." He frantically thought about what Frank could possibly have which would give him a problem, if and when it was disclosed. Then he switched track to whether he'd taken one of his people to ransack the house knowing he was away, or had something specific in mind before he broke in. He was habitually so untidy with everything that he was having difficulty bringing items to mind, as he could never find anything himself. He put it out of his thoughts as he approached the doctor.

"I feel great now Doctor, I think I'm ready to leave, and I feel guilty taking a bed which someone else needs more than I do."

"You may think so, but I'm not yet satisfied with the scans. You still have tiny fragments of congealed blood floating about inward of the wound itself. Until they have dissipated I want to keep an eye on them. Maybe we can review it in a couple of days."

"Well, can I get a pass out to collect some clean clothes? I'm beginning to challenge the air fresheners. I can get someone from the station to drive me, and it's only about three miles from here."

"Very well, I'll check you out first thing tomorrow and if all is clear you can provisionally become an outpatient for an hour."

"Thanks."

*

Stephanie tried to recapture everything Alex Blake had told her. It wasn't helping, so she moved on to Sam's hunch that Frank might not want certain people to die. Could this fit with Adams' extrapolation to affection for a person who didn't die? She couldn't believe Alex was knowingly involved in Frank's scheme. She could believe that Martha Blake had punishment coming from many possible sources. Then she wondered about the veracity of the information which indicated she'd been eliminated by the drugs people, who in turn would be part of the London Colony. It was a convenient dumping ground for all kinds of unsolved cases, a kind of landfill site for unwanted waste. There was also the small matter of definite proof that her head was part of the Priory copse. Could Frank be tied in with the Colony? That didn't sound right. Had he got to Martha Blake before the Colony did? After all, she apparently owed them a fortune, and they would have wanted to recover that first, especially if she had some knowledge they needed. Perhaps her brother's business only covered part of the debt. Stephanie felt she was just going around in circles, and decided to cut out the speculation. When looking solely at the facts, Martha was part of Frank's composite corpse, and her son was alive. She spoke to Sam.

"While Simon and James are looking for information on Driscoll, and Adams is chasing the same leads with Forster, can you check out my thinking on Martha Blake?"

"Ok, go ahead."

"Why would Frank kill her or have someone else kill her?"

"It's only supposition either way Stephanie, but I'd say he is behind all of the killings, whether that is by his own hand or a contracted person."

"Yes. And that contracted person according to both Watson and Donoghue would be a highly competent surgeon."

"Apparently, unless the surgeon was only employed to butcher the carcasses at some time after they were killed and stored. That possibility is supported by the Chollerford half-bodies having been dead around the same time as some of the original five."

"Shit, that's right, but what I'm mainly driving at is that the Colony surely wouldn't get involved in this kind of 'ritualistic' killing, yet we are being fed that line with Martha's death. Adams has said many times that he's sure there is corruption in the London force, and this may be an example. If this D.C.I. Gilbert wants to hide some bigger problem, maybe he's happy to just get the Martha Blake annoyance out of sight and out of mind. After all there is a drugs connection, even if her death was planned by the Colony, but obviously someone beat them to it."

"That's quite a leap of logic in this scenario, but I agree with Ben in his suspicions about Gilbert. Also, you're right about the Colony not getting involved in such elaborate, symbolic hits. As for the rest, who knows? Anyway what are you suggesting we do?"

"Well, Ben asked me to try to connect Alex Blake to the 18 year-old legless corpse, and I'm prepared to go along with the theory that there is some connection, but you could ask the same question about Rory Davenport. Both he and Martha are part of the Frankenstein corpse, but we aren't desperately looking for the living or dead representation of him. I don't know what I'm trying to get across Sam, except that I still think the armless and legless victims are the key to this case, and I'm equally sure that Alex Blake doesn't know that he's a living representation of one of them. I say this because I'm the only one who has spoken to him. I would like you to go through the ones you crossed off your initial list, before you switched to Martha herself. Will you help me?"

"Ok let's do it, but I want to stick to finding evidence Steph. I have theories of my own, but if I pursue them I always need to get some corroborating evidence quickly. If I don't, the appetite for guesswork goes cool.

# Chapter 21

When Adams was sitting across the desk from Forster and the office door was closed, he got straight to the point.

"Thanks for the rundown on Brett Driscoll. I need to find out more, but I'd welcome your advice on how to go about it. Part of what you told me about him wasn't a surprise. You indicated that the Midwest arm of the Colony didn't trust him because they thought he was a London mole. Well that fits quite neatly with me being given the run around by D.C.I Gilbert while investigating Clyde Hendricks' sister's disappearance. He seemed keen to help and arrested Carl Kennedy, got a confession and ordered witness protection for him in record time. With your information connecting Kennedy and Driscoll, I'm pretty sure I was being led away from the latter. I'm not really interested in the big picture of the London or Midwest Colony. I just want the truth regarding an unidentified victim which was part of the Frankenstein corpse. I also know that I've oversimplified the separation of my case from their agenda, and that's why I hope you can help me."

"It isn't impossible, but if we're to work from this end, we need a reason, and therefore a carrot to dangle in front of the go-betweens. What can you tell me about this unidentified victim?"

"Male, thirty-three years old, born on the 18th September. Look Sir, I believe this Driscoll could be my man. He's missing, but thought by the Colony in the Midwest to be dead, taken out by one of the mob organisations. London is saying nothing, with the exception of the young officer who took the report of Martha Blake having gone missing. The official report states that her brother made the report out, but the young officer has confirmed to us that it was Driscoll. Now, Martha Blake is definitely one of our victims. It stinks of a cover up, because we were steered to believe she was also whacked by the London Colony. We're on the verge of cracking this case if Driscoll is our victim, but I need hard evidence, and I need to be led to it."

"Right, it's tricky, but you may have inadvertently given me a starting point. The Midwest would be happy if they knew for sure that this guy is history, and they would relish the chance to leak the fact that it was some half-crazed Geordie, rather than professional retribution by the London mob. The Colony likes to be seen to take care of its own; especially deciding on whether they live or die. I suppose you mean DNA when you talk of hard evidence?"

"That would be the clincher, but I'll take any evidence which rules him in or out."

"Ok, when do you intend to return north?"

"I can stay for a few days if you think that's best."

"No, that's not wise. This will go better if these go-betweens are certain they are only dealing with people they know and can trust. Go back now, and I'll contact you when we get a nibble."

*

Renton got his call. He got in first this time, and startled Frank.

"Look, I can only get out of the hospital for an hour, so the meeting place has to be close. However, before I set off I need to know what it is that you have to give me, otherwise I won't take the risk."

"Surely the risk to your reputation is still important to you, even though it has already been tarnished. This is your chance to restore some of your credibility."

"I'm not talking about that kind of risk. The doctor says I'm still vulnerable to blood clots because of the blow to my head. It's your fault and your call."

"Oh, I see, that is a worry. Would you like to postpone the meeting?"

"I'll only know that if you tell me what you intend to give me."

"You should be more careful with what information you take home from the office. I am impressed with the diligence of sacrificing your leisure time to run me to ground, but you are a very sloppy housekeeper. I have the report from your forensics people which proves the identity of one of my victims. You never mentioned this in our little chats. That seems unfair as I was continually giving you hints. As I said yesterday, I will return it to you but I will also have to report that it temporarily fell into the wrong hands. You surely can't resist the chance to meet me, and finally put a face to the grossly distorted voice."

"Well that's very considerate of you, but you haven't given me the standard spiel about coming alone, and that the deal will be terminated if you think I'm being shadowed. What's this really about?"

"It has always been, and still is about helping people who have been treated disgracefully. Awareness is not lacking, it is more a question of moral responsibility. The facts are there; they just need to shock the populous sufficiently to bring down those who should bear the guilt. Unfortunately you are caught in the middle, and you were a useful tool in the beginning, but you have been deceitful Inspector, or at least economical with information you could have shared with me. I may need a much higher profile figure to run this investigation. I think you may agree with me one day. Now, do we meet?"

"Where do you suggest?"

"A very public place is my choice, where, as you say, I can see that you aren't accompanied by anyone. I will be in Northumberland Street. You won't see me, but I will find you. We won't exchange pleasantries, only your forensics report. Can we say thirty minutes from now?"

"How do I know that you don't intend to harm me? Injuring me would seem to achieve your objective of replacing me on the case."

"There are more subtle ways than that Inspector. Isn't my promise good enough? You were only inconvenienced at your house because we didn't expect you."

"Why were there two of you? Was the other person your lookout?"

"Yes, I needed to conduct a thorough search and that's not easy if your concentration is divided."

"You knew what you were looking for then?"

"We don't have time for fishing Inspector. You will have to work that out for yourself at a more appropriate time. My clock has already begun ticking down to the thirty minutes."

Renton set off in the knowledge that this was a no win situation. He could be killed or at best asked to retire early because of his carelessness. He thought about not going but decided it was too good an opportunity to see this bastard face-to-face, even if it was for a millisecond. He had his camera phone at the ready, and guessed Frank would have counted on that being the case.

*

Simon Jones and James Bradley had not found anything of significance. The land registry office did have details on how much the property, occasionally occupied by Brett Driscoll, had changed hands for. The electoral register didn't have anyone's name associated with the house; it was noted as a buy-to-let property which was unoccupied more often than not. There were no arrears in council tax, and all appeared to be in order. They tried several estate agents in the area and drew blanks. The most likely explanation was that it had been a private sale. They concluded that if the Colony was involved the trail would have been deliberately obscured. They suspended this search and helped Sam and Stephanie with their theory.

They began with the only candidate Sam hadn't eliminated from his original list. Reginald Powell's parents DNA was still with forensics, and Donoghue had promised a quick turnaround after the error they had made initially. When Sam returned from forensics he was waving a test report and sporting a smug grin.

"Well, what do you know? There is a new starting point because this evidence clearly shows a filial link between Reginald Powell's parents and the legs from the Priory corpse. Donoghue is about as angry as I've ever seen him, because we could have had this lead some time ago. Anyway Steph, we now need to find out more about this young man. I'll go and see his parents again. You can check out any possible connection to Alex Blake or his family, and you two boys can blitz the database, internet and even the newspapers at the time of his disappearance." Sam then rang Adams to give him the good news, and this was met with a suggestion.

"Sam, I'm already in the Midwest, why don't I check out these parents and give them the potentially bad news about their son. This lead is too important to leave up in the air. I'd like you to stay on top of the two new boys and push this as far as we can. Tell Steph that I think she should go back to see Alex Blake in person because we mustn't miss anything."

Sam informed the others of the plan. Stephanie said she'd have to juggle her personal arrangements to make the trip, and she wasn't too happy about it, but complied. She sent a text to her friend's phone because he had made it clear that he could not take personal voice calls at work. She received an almost instant response asking whether she had another 'friend' in Southampton. They rearranged their date.

*

Northumberland Street was always crowded. One of the main shopping areas of Newcastle, it was a wide, traffic-free zone. Renton was wandering up and down assessing the faces. He found it difficult to concentrate on the vague description of the biker in Chopwell Woods. Thirties, over six feet tall, and athletic didn't produce too many hits. He began to look at other criteria. There were quite a few people engaged in activities other than shopping. Individuals could be seen selling the Big Issue, newspapers, busking in the hope of the price of a cup of coffee, and many more black economy earners. When the time deadline approached he became more acutely aware of the danger he may be in. This receded after five minutes or so as he started to think Frank was going to be a no show. Another five minutes and he was nearing the limit for getting back to hospital in time to avoid the wrath of the doctor. He decided to ask some of the street vendors if they had to have a licence to practice their occupation. This met with suspicion and he was told to get lost by some, others just moved to another spot. He began his journey back to the hospital when he was stopped by a clown, who was giving leaflets to everyone. They were details of the circus about to open on the Town Moor. When Renton refused the leaflet, the clown smiled and shrugged his shoulders, before saying he was only trying to let people know there was a show in town which would be enjoyed by children.

"Do you have children Sir?"

Renton shook his head and tried to ease past the man, who deftly pushed a folded leaflet into his top pocket, bidding him to have a nice day. Renton was furious that he'd been duped by Frank, thinking he would be on another internet photograph. He took the protruding leaflet from his pocket to stick it in the nearest litter bin, and noticed there was a scribble suggesting that he, Inspector Renton should contact the lady who was performing Origami, and selling kits for beginners. He turned immediately and scoured the crowd, but the clown had evaporated into thin air. He trudged back to the top of the street and upon stating his name was given an envelope. When he requested the woman to describe the person who had asked her to keep this for him, she laughed and said it was the clown. He'd rewarded her handsomely for helping him out.

# Chapter 22

Jack Renton pestered the doctor to the point of harassment. They settled on him being conditionally discharged the next day if he agreed to regular checks as an outpatient.

"Of course you can discharge yourself, but that may complicate all manner of insurance issues if you suffer a serious incident, and the possibility of that happening has been explained to you several times."

"No, I want to be responsible about this, but I also have to think about others who may be at risk from the people who attacked me in the first place. It's very complicated Doctor, and I can't say too much, but I don't intend going back to work yet. I'm happy to stay here with my son, as long as I can venture out when I need to. So I'll be available for your checks whenever you want me." They agreed this formula and Renton immediately tried to call back Frank, knowing that it would go to a phone which was unregistered and discarded. It just had to be ticked off the list. He then rang Adams to explain his situation. When he disclosed his meeting with Frank, Ben almost exploded with anger.

"Give me strength Boss, what a bloody stupid thing to do, not just for your own safety, but the shit it throws on the rest of us."

"I know, I know, it's done now and I haven't got any visual recollection which would help us, but I did hear his voice clearly. He doesn't have a regional accent, and it's very distinctive. I've opened the envelope and sure enough it contained the forensic report confirming Rory Davenport's identity as the armless victim, so now he knows, and will post this, I'm sure. You need to prepare for that, and forget about the consequences for me. I'm not coming back yet anyway, but I'd like to see whatever Donoghue's people have found at my house, and I want to have a butcher's to see if there is anything else missing, or strikes me as unusual. It's still a crime scene so I need you to get Donoghue to turn a blind eye, on the basis that I have already been back to get clean clothes anyway."

"Are there any other skeletons just waiting to hit me? I know you can't officially intrude on a crime scene if you're still on compassionate leave, but why do you want me to clear this with Donoghue?"

"Because technically, there is a conflict of interest if I get involved in investigating the burglary. You've just quoted the rule book to me, well you haven't forgotten that I'm a witness have you? And I don't want to prejudice that status. When I do come back, I won't be on that case."

"Ok, leave it with me. You're just visiting your home for clean clothes right? And you really are sleeping at the hospital. We can't involve Donoghue in anything dodgy."

"Yes, I bloody well know that, I'm only going to ask questions as a victim. How he answers them is up to him. I'll just clock the place as part of getting my pyjamas and stuff."

"You really are a cunning sort Boss. I didn't think I'd find out about the pyjamas this way."

*

Alex Blake was pleased to see Stephanie and it was mutual. They had tea and scones before she got down to business. He'd asked all kind of questions about his uncle since her last visit, but all he had been told by the London police was that they had no suspects yet, even though they had a lot of manpower on the case. She didn't disillusion him, thinking that it would be cruel to indicate it may be like that for a long time.

"Can I ask if you've ever come across the name Reginald Powell?"

"I don't think so, who is he?"

"Someone we are trying to trace. He's the same age as you, and we're worried about him because he's been missing for some time."

"Has this got anything to do with my uncle or my mother?"

"Possibly with your mother, but I don't see any connection to your uncle. We have to eliminate people from our enquiries and Reginald Powell is one of them. I forgot to say that his birthday is the same as yours, so you are exactly the same age. Do you have any other family apart from your late mother and uncle?"

"I seem to remember my mother talking of another brother who stayed in Jamaica, but that was when I was a kid, and she wasn't using drugs. I never heard Uncle Clyde talk about him and I just forgot about having another uncle I suppose."

"What about Robert - your Father, did he have any relatives that you know of?"

"None that he talked about, he didn't even have close friends, other than a few he served with, but he only met them at reunions."

"Can you remember the names of any of them?"

"You do think this has something to do with my mother's death don't you?"

"Perhaps, but we don't know how it may be connected. So, we just have to explore every avenue. Detective work isn't as glamorous as it seems on the telly; it's mostly a hard slog, checking things which turn out to be red herrings."

"Well, I remember Dad talking about Ginger Walton. He was apparently the practical joker in the squad. It's hard to remember now, but his real name might have been Garry or Gerry, or even Harry. Anyway, he used to tell Ginger's jokes to me when I was about ten or eleven. I didn't think they were funny until I was in Yemen myself, and then I understood the humour. I remember now, his name was Gerry."

"I'm pleased to see you again Alex, and I'll keep in touch. Who knows, I might be back for more of those cream scones." She felt relaxed about giving him a hug this time, and he responded as if she was his only friend. She phoned Sam as she set off for home.

"I didn't get much more from Alex, but it might be worth getting one of the boys to check out a friend of his father's called Gerry Walton. He apparently served with Robert Blake in Yemen, so the M.O.D. may be the best route."

"Ok, Steph, see you soon."

*

Adams accepted a coffee while he sketched in probable closure for Reginald Powell's parents. They were completely mystified. They had pretty much expected the worst for some time, but couldn't come to terms with the circumstances. Adams explained that what he had told them should remain between them for the present, as it was critical to keep this from the killer.

"I know this is asking a lot of you, but it's important that we find out the identity of all five victims, and their connection to this maniac. It's the way we have to work. It's also the best way to help you in dealing with your grief." Roland Powell comforted his wife and nodded his agreement to Adams. "I'm sorry that I have to ask you again, but although we can show that the victim is almost definitely your son, it would still be helpful if we could obtain some of his DNA to run the full profile. Isn't there anything you can think of?"

Vanessa Powell dried away the tears and mentioned something to her husband. They had forgotten about the basement. Reginald had been a keep fit fanatic, and they had installed a shower so he could clean up down there, without bringing mess into the house after a run on the forest trails. There was the usual array of shampoos, gels, after-shaves and an electric razor. "He didn't live here you see, he moved in with a friend last year, a boyfriend. Roland is quite old-fashioned in that sense and he couldn't disguise his difficulty in making this boy welcome, so Reginald left home. It would have happened sooner or later, but after his disappearance, his friend Mark never came here anymore, which was understandable. When Reginald lived with Mark, he'd still come for tea sometimes, and he always came along the trails. That's when we converted his old bedroom into a study. It was a complete makeover, and there was nothing of Reginald's stuff left in there, and we then modified the basement. It made him realise we still loved him." She broke down again. Adams took the toiletries and the razor for Donoghue.

*

Renton met with Clive Donoghue at his house.

"Thanks for coming Clive. This is a strange situation, a police officer tiptoeing around his own house, which is a crime scene. I just wanted someone from your department to be here and keep me right while I get some 'holiday clothes' for my stay in hospital with Daniel. It's better than being evacuated, I suppose. I see there's only one of your lab guys here. Do you want to ask me anything now that my memory seems to be on the mend?"

"I don't think so. Although, I hear that you may have recalled a little more detail about the flash from the photo."

"Yeah I remember the other guy in the garden. The reflection of the person behind was too dark and as you know, Frank airbrushed the picture on the net anyway."

"Do you know exactly where this man stood in the garden?"

""Pretty much, it was just to the left of the gate. He must have been in those bushes when I came around the back, before entering the house, otherwise I'd have seen him."

"I'd like you to show me Jack, and then I'll get someone up here to comb that specific area."

"Great, so what have you turned up so far?"

"Not much as yet. Of course there was a lot of stuff you had brought from the office, including some of my reports. Not a good idea really. We've been concentrating on the house so far. There are some fingerprints on the glass around the circle which was cut out of the French door. They are smudged as if it had been difficult to get the circle out cleanly. It's another one of those damned exercises of taking partials and trying to match them with anything on file, like pieces of a jigsaw. It's very time-consuming. Other than that, I have to admit we are struggling. Hopefully we'll strike lucky near the back gate."

"Ok, can you just accompany me upstairs to get my clothes, so that I don't compromise anything?"

"Of course, let's put on these overshoes and masks."

# Chapter 23

Sam and the boys had followed up on Stephanie's request for information on Gerry Walton, and found nothing other than a perfect service record with the armed forces. They abandoned this trawl and got back to Brett Driscoll. This was looking pretty bleak too, when Sam had a thought. He ran the sequence through his mind again. Driscoll was being groomed for a top role in London. He blemishes his record by incidents which even the Colony couldn't stomach. He is farmed out to a comparatively 'mickey mouse' Salford casino operation in which he is perceived as a spy. He is reputed to have hated this and tried to engineer his way back to London. He reports Martha Blake's disappearance – why? The word is put out in the Capital that her brother was clipped by the Colony – namely Sol Greenwood, while the neighbour is another member of the mob, who actually put Clyde Hendricks in touch with Carl Kennedy about a loan, which was never taken out. His business is taken over by The High Road Group, which is thought to be bankrolled by the Colony. Driscoll was presumably the man putting the pressure on Carl Kennedy, reminding London that their man Freeman (the neighbour of Hendricks) was to blame. Driscoll would not want another stain on his record. The fact that the police grapevine felt Driscoll was dead, and at the hands of the Colony, fitted neatly with the need to tidy up the killings of Martha and her brother, in which the police were getting too close for comfort. Not the London police, but the bumpkins from the North.

Sam replayed this time and again, and eventually concluded that Driscoll may have been earmarked for erasure and then setup by the London hierarchy because of some further misdemeanour. And as D.C.I. Forster had said, this was one kind of hit which had to be seen to be handled internally. Sam was reconciled to never finding out what colossal mistake Driscoll made, in addition to the paltry cock-up with the loan to Hendricks. It didn't really alter his hunch. If the London police force was complicit in this spring cleaning exercise, it would probably extend to the database. He rang Adams.

"Before you come back, can I run something past you?"

"Sure, but I've just set off so you'd better make it brief."

"Your certainty about corruption in the Capital got me thinking, and I remember Donoghue didn't get a match for any of the five victims' DNA when checking against previous records. Well that may not be too surprising with Davenport and Martha Blake, but Driscoll should have some information against his name. Even the top guys have notes appended to the charges they have been cleared of."

"Go on Sam, you've got my attention."

"He could have done the old name change trick, especially with a name like Brett Driscoll, but there is another possibility."

"Uh-huh, so what is it for Christ's sake?"

"The database has been cleaned."

"That's likely to be very difficult to prove."

"Yes, but our esteemed Grand Leader has experts working night and day to block out Frank. They must be able to check with archived files. If I'm right, this kind of selective wiping can only be done centrally. Bradstock's American guru could check it out. The fact that Frank got in shows it could be done by an outsider, but my money's on a mole for the Colony."

"It's a great suggestion Sam, but how the hell do we tell Bradstock we suspect his inner sanctum of screwing with the Bible?"

"That's your dilemma, it just doesn't sit right. Rory Davenport had plenty of notes, but nothing to justify a DNA record. I'd have thought a serial drug addict like Martha Blake should have been asked to submit a swab. Driscoll can't have a cleaner record than you or me. Try that on Bradstock."

"Thanks Sam, there could be a vacancy in Newcastle by tomorrow. I'll pull into the services and rehearse my approach. I must be crazy."

*

The call eventually came. Renton was asked by Frank if he'd got his forensic report from the woman.

"Yes I did. That was quite a neat trick, and presumably there will be a photograph to go with it?"

"Naturally, and it may be on the internet at some time if I need to get you moved aside. I would like to know how I have been unable to get access to your Intranet. I am sure you would agree that would be a preferable way of you being replaced, as it would be 'handled internally'. I also need to know about progress you have made other than Rory Davenport. Even if you are off the case, you must know this. I would rather keep this between us, but unless I am updated, I may have to take action against innocent people, some of whom are already in hospital. That would be unfair, but I live in a world of gross neglect of the innocent and unfortunate, so I am more or less desensitised to such injustice. I will be in touch again soon." This shift to personal threat to Renton's family seared through his synapses and he felt extremely queasy. He made his way back into Daniel's ward but collapsed before he reached the bedside. Jane pressed the emergency call for attention at the side of the bed. Renton was examined and rushed to a private room. He was hooked up to all manner of equipment, including an EEG monitor. Jane was eventually told that such a post-trauma reaction was not totally unexpected. He was readmitted to an intensive care unit and had yet to recover consciousness. Jane used his mobile to ring Ben Adams, who was by now near to Scotch Corner, about forty miles from Newcastle. He pulled on to the hard shoulder and when he heard what she had to say he felt quite sick himself. He said he would come directly to the hospital but she said Renton wasn't allowed to have visitors at present, not even her. She promised to let him know of any change.

When the news filtered through to the station the air was thick with apprehension. Adams considered how utterly unimportant his trepidation over the conversation with Bradstock had been by comparison. That had been but a blip on the Richter scale of unease. It had also gone surprisingly well. In fact Bradstock seemed to relish having a bona-fide reason to do some internal snooping, because the American guru was pretty sure the Intranet breach had come from within.

*

Clive Donoghue was given the bag of goodies tagged Reginald Powell, and despite his workload he promised priority analysis. His people had also worked around the clock in shifts on the partial prints from Renton's French doors. The perplexing news was that the 'patching' technique clearly pointed to Friend, whose prints were on file from the altercation at the Mission, for which Man had been charged. This provoked a recap by Adams, who reminded everyone that Renton had said the figure in the garden looked like Friend, but was nothing like as tall. It became obvious that in the split-second the Boss had to visualise both what was behind and in front of him, with the aid of the flash, his perspective could have been altered by the refraction of the slightly opaque double glazing. Donoghue's assistants had reconstructed a computer model from observational measurements and the most likely answer was that Friend was crouching or on his knees, trying to avoid being seen.

*

Frank pondered what to do, having somehow heard of Renton's relapse. He was busy with Man's work in following up on the influx of new friends, and placement with their keepers. The trial was still some four weeks away and it didn't look good for the accused. Friend was not capable of this kind of monitoring responsibility, and Frank decided to postpone some of his planned activity.

*

Stephanie was disappointed to hear that there was nothing of interest on Gerry Walton. She'd felt confident that it could have opened a new line of enquiry. At least she could resume interest in her personal life. She texted her friend to that effect and they arranged to meet at Shearer's Bar, which was part of St. James' Park stadium. It was a popular venue, and one which was almost equidistant for both of them. David Miller was considered by Stephanie's mates to be quite a catch, and she was happy that he had a similar attitude to work as she did herself. Her career as a police officer and regularly having to cancel social arrangements didn't bother Miller, as he often had to travel to London at short notice to meet international clients. He was interested in her work without being overly inquisitive, and he only talked about his work when specifically asked about it. They were both realistic about the chances of the development of a long term relationship, and this seemed to add to their mutual attraction.

*

The internet was still infatuated with the meaning of the Yin Yang symbol. Apart from the main fascination with what it conveyed about the victims, there were increasing numbers of threads which delved into why Frank had uploaded the image as a ring, and placed it on his own finger. It was argued that there must be some resonance with the finger he had delivered to the police via Friend; this was extrapolated to it having significance to his choice of victims. This progression burgeoned into rather unhealthy speculation that it specifically referred to the methodology of choosing the two victims stitched together like Siamese twins. The discussion raged until there was a post which claimed confirmation of this. 'The postulation of the Siamese twins is very perceptive. It has to be emphasised that these two victims were joined together at death, not birth. So, unlike true Siamese twins, the purpose is to illustrate that they are inextricably linked forever, whereas the objective with conjoined infants is to separate them'. The debate then took a sharp turn, as to whether Frank had posted this himself.

*

Bradstock's American expert had quickly found evidence of tampering with several chunks of archived data, and it covered a wide spread of information. However, to the trained eye of Kyle Jennings, there was a definite link to authorisation codes of his former Boss, Bruce Middleton. Bradstock was preening over his foresight in firing this man, but that had merely been for incompetence. Corruption had a much higher currency, and the subsequent analysis by Jennings clearly showed most of the 'scrubbing' was associated with people or activities of the Colony. Adams was asked to transmit the profile of the DNA from the genitalia of the Frankenstein corpse.

*

Jack Renton had been gradually drifting back toward full consciousness, and his overriding priority was to inform Adams of the implied threat to Daniel and Jane by Frank. Jane was the only one who he could persuade to contact D.I. Adams. The doctor had made it crystal clear that there would be no more concessions to, or deviations from his recuperation plan. Jane was not happy to break this edict, but Renton pressed her every time they were alone.

"Jack, you really are irresponsible. The doctor has every right to throw you out of here. He's advocating an operation to remove troublesome blood clots. It's going to be scheduled in the next couple of days, subject to checks, including your blood pressure, and you want to talk shop to Ben. It can't be said any other way – your life is a risk. Forget work, I'm not going to compound your stupidity."

"I just want to tell him exactly that. You know, that I won't be back for quite a lot longer than the leave I took, and...."

"Fine, I will call him and tell him that. I'm going back to Daniel's ward and I'll phone on the way. By the way, your son is improving steadily now and is having physiotherapy and hydrotherapy." Renton conceded to her resistance to involvement and began to think of another means of getting a message to Adams, then decided to leave it to Ben to make contact.

"You're right Jane, forget about calling Ben."

*

Stephanie felt that with three colleagues still trawling for information on Driscoll in the Salford area, she would give Gerry Walton a shot herself. She spoke to the unit he retired from, after his final tour in Yemen. The Green Howards had survived several attempts by the M.O.D. to reduce the intake to a point where it would fall into the category for consideration of disbandment. She spoke to a Captain Rudge.

"My colleagues may have already explained why they wanted to trace Mr. Walton, but I've just returned from visiting the injured son of a close friend of his. This young man has lost both legs in the service of his country, and I would really like to speak with Gerry to see if he has the time to visit Alex Blake."

Rudge didn't reply at first, and Stephanie briefly thought she'd been disconnected.

"Are you saying that it's not a police matter, but a personal one?"

"To be absolutely honest it's both, but the personal side is why I'm talking to you now. Any contact Alex can have with those who knew his late father would be appreciated, especially as his mother and uncle have both died recently. He's basically adrift in an emotional sense, as well as being physically disadvantaged."

"I see, in that case I'll make some enquiries. We don't have a current address for Gerald Walton, but maybe we can speak with others from his unit who can help. Give me the whereabouts of the young man and I'll do my best. I'll let you know if I have any success."

"Thank you. He's at Broad Meadows care home near Southampton. His father's name was Robert Blake."

# Chapter 24

Frank was reinvigorated because the internet blogs were once again predominantly focussed on his actual agenda, and not the copycat killings. According to most of the world news agencies, this imitative butchery was waning. He considered his next move to be critical because the timing was right, in view of the spike in global interest. Guiding the populous toward his reasoning, and therefore the suggested action, was now a priority. It was still a precarious balancing act, simply defined by him having to disappear if his identity was revealed. Phase two could begin, and the final act of undermining the credibility of the police would be deferred until Jack Renton had recovered. If he was kicked while he was down, sympathy would shift the momentum. It wasn't personal between Renton and Frank. The police force just happened to suit his cause, being taken for granted, as long as they were improving their statistical measurement of accountability. Nobody seemed to cry out even though these numbers were dominated by clear-up rates of motoring offences and unsubstantiated alleged racism. Frank accepted that such transgressions were important, but not at the expense of some of the real evils of society. If the police could no longer solve cases involving the taking of human lives, the priorities must be politically skewed. Repetitive shock treatment seemed to be the only way. He made another painful visit to his deep freeze store.

*

Bradstock had arrested and questioned his former head of I.T. - Bruce Middleton, who thought he had retired comfortably. When confronted by corruption charges, he knew his life was going to change. One way could be the termination of it, efficiently carried out by those in the Colony who had assured him he'd be safe under their umbrella. The alternative was to take the fall and the consequent long sentence demanded. That route was also tricky because the Colony didn't like scenarios in which a patsy could have a change of heart. Recourse to a protection plea was not an option with Bradstock, because of such a senior defection to the mob, and in any case, the conviction was considered to be rock solid without a confession. Middleton made an impassioned appeal to Bradstock on behalf of his family, and their future safety.

"You should have thought about that when you crossed the line. Anyway I am sure you have sufficient capital squirrelled away for your family to take care of this before you go on trial. Unless you give us more than admission of generally assisting organised crime rings, we will simply proceed with the charges we have made." After some discussion with his brief, Middleton asked Bradstock to spell out his demands. "Fine, we need the names of all Colony personnel you dealt with, and your testimony regarding the precise purpose of their recruitment of you, and any others within the wider police organisation. We know you cannot be the only tentacle they have in our ranks. Start talking and we will see if there is merit in your plea." Middleton declined to say any more, accepting that he wouldn't survive his sentence, but at least the Colony would know, because of his silence in court, that he hadn't confided in his family. They would be safe. Bradstock would have to find a weaker link in the chain.

*

Donoghue confirmed to Adams that Reginald Powell's possessions had provided cross-checked matches to the DNA of the legs of the Priory corpse. Adams immediately gathered his staff around the whiteboard once more.

"We must surely be looking right at the motive without seeing it. With three definite identities, and one possible out of five, there has to be a link. Anyone disagree?"

Sam Gibson sat quietly, as did the two new recruits, and Stephanie was always prepared to speculate.

"I don't disagree with you Sir. But maybe we're looking at it from the wrong angle. On the face of it there isn't an obvious connection of the victims themselves or we'd have seen it by now. Rory Davenport, a student protester, Martha Blake, a drug addict who shafted the Colony, and Reginald Powell a gay eighteen year-old keep fit fanatic, don't exactly look like they would frequent the same social circles."

"And now enlighten us with the point of your 'wrong angle' argument Steph."

"I'm only saying that the connection could be through other people and not directly between them – the actual victims." Sam didn't completely endorse this reasoning.

"The same logic would have to take in Brett Driscoll if he becomes the fourth match. He does have a direct connection of sorts with Martha Blake, albeit one of reporting her disappearance, and impersonating her brother."

Adams said that the two approaches were not mutually exclusive. "Sam, let's consider for a moment that Driscoll didn't actually know Martha Blake personally. We already believe that he was being set up for a fall by the Colony, and he simply had to carry out their orders to help cover up the Hendricks erasure. That's how they operate; a disposable employee is used to tidy up a potential embarrassment."

"Ok, but I can't see any link from Driscoll to anyone other than Martha Blake, and I doubt if Davenport or Powell had any kind of attention from the Colony. I still think we have to find links to Frank. At least forget Driscoll until he's in or out, because if he is one of Frank's victims we have a bit of a problem – how could the Colony be responsible? Let's do as Steph suggests and look for connections in the immediate circles of the three definite victims."

*

The number of instruments and wires around Jack Renton's bed had decreased as the procedure to remove the blood clot drew closer. Ben Adams had found out about this, not from Jane, but by ringing reception to routinely check on his friend, because his mobile was switched off. He arrived and was met in the corridor outside the ward by Jane.

"Nobody told me about Jack's operation and the people at reception were sketchy at best, what's going on Jane?"

"He collapsed at the entrance to Daniel's ward. The doctor warned him that this could happen, but Jack asked for leave to go home again and get clean clothes. I could have done that but he's so stubborn. Not long after he returned he suffered some kind of blackout. The doctor decided after conducting many tests, that a precautionary removal of a clot should be scheduled. I didn't want him talking to anyone at work before this operation. You know what he's like, he thinks he's indestructible." Adams was feeling a little guilty himself, thinking that after Renton's disclosure of his meeting with Frank, he should have blocked the Boss' meeting with Donoghue, instead of setting it up.

"I don't know what to say Jane. He puts all of us in difficult spots at times. I know he doesn't mean to, but it happens. Perhaps I'd better go. Just tell him I came to see how he's doing - and Daniel too. I'll go and see the young man now instead."

"No Ben, he'll go mad if he thinks I tried to stop his real friends from seeing him. He's a bit groggy with the medication but otherwise seems ok. Just don't talk about work." Adams entered and wagged his finger at his friend.

"I hope they fix your head completely this time Boss, so you can take in their advice. And don't ask about anything but Newcastle United. Take a lesson from them – get paid a lot for a little work! I'm going to see Daniel in a moment, so I just called in to see how things are and tell the nurses how to handle your little eccentricities."

"Come in a little closer Ben. I'm not supposed to shout or even raise my voice. They told me that sneezing or coughing can be dangerous. What the hell am I expected to do about that? They say this operation is just a precaution against this clot moving to a dodgy area. I should be out in a few days. That's why I wanted to call you, but Jane had my phone and she switched it off altogether. She won't give it back."

"No, no, I'm not going there. For Christ's sake, do you ever listen to advice? You're pretty good at giving it. I'm going now."

"Ben, Daniel and Jane are in danger. I had my funny turn when he rang me back after our meeting and made the threat, if I didn't comply with his wishes. You have to help me."

"In what way did he threaten you?"

"He obviously knows about Davenport from the forensic report he copied. He wants to know which other identities we've nailed down. We can't give him anything, but with me incapacitated, Jane and Daniel need protection. I'd prefer not to tell her about this because I know she'll overreact and blame me, saying I'm being melodramatic again. She needs to stay with Daniel around the clock until further notice, and we should post plain clothes security around his ward."

"This isn't going to go down too well Boss, because it means we have to spill the beans about you talking with him again, and then making a stupid arrangement to meet him. If he publishes the forensic report the information it contains will come out anyway. We really are on shaky ground."

"I know that. I'm only concerned about my family's protection at present Ben. I can't look further than that. You didn't know about my meeting with Frank – got it? Nobody knows about that until you tell Bradstock today. I will have to take the flak on that even if it produces a lead which warrants his arrest by some miraculous connection. It does however justify posting protection in the hospital. Don't look at me like that; it's not the end of the bloody world, just my pathetic career. Promise me you'll do this Ben."

"You're priceless Jack Renton. You know I'll do it. Just wait until you're given the all-clear, you won't recognise me when you are discharged. It will be my turn to make demands."

As Adams made his way back to the office he took a call from Forster.

"I've got promising news Ben. One of my informants has run to ground Driscoll's housekeeper while he was living up here. It's helpful that she's a bit of a mercenary and knows nothing of the Colony. She stopped her visits when he went missing and didn't pay her, but she still has a key and is willing to show my man around for a fee. She says the house is up for rent again, so we need to move quickly. Apparently the estate agent doesn't know about her, as it was a private, cash-in-hand arrangement. Strictly speaking, her having a key and letting us in is breaking the law, so we'll keep our distance from the actual search. If anything of interest turns up I'll let you know. It's likely that the Colony has given the place a thorough once-over, but they could have missed something."

"Thank you Sir, I needed some good news." He told Forster about Renton's operation and said he'd let him know the outcome. His next step was to explain the situation to Sir Nigel. He didn't expect that disclosure to add to the Chief's recent adrenalin ride with plugging the holes in the Intranet and bringing corruption charges to divert the blame. This promised to be a watershed one-way discussion.

# Chapter 25

Captain Rudge was on the line for Stephanie. She dashed from the canteen to take the call.

"Hello, Stephanie Baker here."

"I have managed to trace Gerald Walton. It's not good news I'm afraid. He is apparently quite ill. He is being cared for in a hospice in Blackburn. It seems he has a terminal condition. We are making arrangements to send someone in an official capacity to see him, as we obviously didn't know he had fallen so desperately ill, having lost touch with him. The hospice is on the outskirts of the town and is called Dovecote Rest. I hope you can speak with him too."

"Thank you so much Captain Rudge. I'll do so as soon as I can. It sounds as though he won't be able to meet Alex Blake, unless I can convince Broad Meadows to allow me to take him to see Gerald. It's worth a shot."

"It is indeed, and I wish you luck. There aren't many who'd take time out to do this for an ageing ex-serviceman, you have my most sincere thanks." She confronted Adams with the request and was shocked when she heard of the plight of Renton's family.

"Steph, it's going to be difficult enough to get Bradstock to support the Boss' plea for protection without you swanning off to the south coast again. What do we gain from another jaunt?"

"Yes, I can see your problem Sir, but I can't seem to let go of this. I'll take leave to cover it."

"Nice one, another trip away with your fella then?"

"Perhaps, but it is short notice. David may not be able to join me."

"David eh, I was beginning to think he had no name. I could do without you taking time off right now Steph, but let's hope you hit lucky."

"Are you still talking about David Sir, or Alex Blake?"

"Both I guess, but if I have to choose..."

"Don't go there. See you soon."

*

Frank's internet announcement covered two points. The first was to take ownership of the post which referred to the two half-bodies as being joined together forever, in contrast to Siamese twins. He specifically made this claim together with the location in which the police would find another body. In this way he was making sure the internet knew the difference between his posts and those of imposters. No imagination was required to assign the coordinates of the body; the image said it all about the victim's final resting place, subject to the influence of the Moon.

The problem Frank had knowingly created was related to the causeway. Lindisfarne could only cope with a certain volume of traffic. The island was instantly recognisable and would attract sufficient interest to produce a lock-jam. The police assumed this was part of the plan, to create a panic to beat the tide. Adams was grateful to both the Three Rivers and Border traffic control for their prompt response. It enabled him, together with Greg Watson and Donoghue to get there ahead of the gloaters. The roadblocks went up just in time to avert chaos on the causeway. Lindisfarne Castle always had a rugged appearance, regardless of the weather, but today it was also shrouded by fast moving clouds which scattered the available sunlight, adding to the drama. Within ten minutes of arriving, Adams found a group of tourists standing over a corpse. The first thoughts were that Frank must have posted the picture from here at or about the same time as he dumped the body. This was his trademark. He could be taking a photograph of them right now. When Adams got the opportunity to question the tourists they all agreed that the body was already lolling about in the water in a buttoned yellow plastic bag when they arrived. A dog had paid more attention to it than the people, and when it pulled the fasteners open an arm dangled out. A man said he'd immediately phoned the police and had been told that they knew about the incident, he was told that officers were on their way. Adams rang the traffic boys to seal off the exit of the causeway, as there was just a chance that Frank was still on the island. The frantic activity was temporarily punctured by Greg Watson. As he turned the body over he instantly recognised the Junior Minister for Culture and Recreation. Tim Radcliffe was, or had been M.P. for Newcastle South. This was a departure from Frank's previous victims, as Radcliffe had not been missing and only the previous evening had spoken on local television. The object in his grip however, looked as if it had not yet thawed out; it was someone else's hand. A tent was erected a safe distance from the incoming tide and Adams left Watson and Donoghue to their tasks while he went to the exit point of the causeway. He explained as quickly as he could to the supervising officer that he wanted to check out any males between twenty and forty years of age. Although there was considerably less than two hundred people in the queue, it became a logistics problem to get all of those who wanted to leave, off the island, and into a makeshift compound. There were angry scenes and this kind of distraction was just what Adams wanted to avoid. He wanted to personally see every single person checked off, with names and addresses for future reference, but he couldn't help casting furtive glances to the surrounding areas, believing that his quarry could be standing there smiling at him. He also knew that he'd have to check all visitors and local inhabitants. It was not beyond Frank to have arranged to stay with a friend or even sleep rough overnight.

The process finally petered out without a hint of success. Adams was mentally exhausted and he hadn't yet made his call to Bradstock. Renton's irresponsibility and this apparent reaction to it had the distinct capability to have the messenger suffer collateral damage. He decided to check with Watson and Donoghue before looking for somewhere to stay the night.

Watson rebuffed the usual clamour for premature conclusions but hinted that Radcliffe hadn't been dead for more than a few hours.

"The cause of death shouldn't be too difficult to pin down with such a fresh corpse. There is a hypodermic mark in the midriff, so I'll look at that first to see what the content might have been." Donoghue uncharacteristically chimed in with a bold prediction. "The waterproof bag has almost acted as a forensics pouch as well as a buoyancy aid. He must have wanted it to grab attention and avoid the body being half-immersed, thus difficult to see. He must also have 'arranged' for it to be discovered by people other than the police. That is also a departure from the pattern. The dog, having dragged the bundle to the shore has given us a bonus as well. I'm assured by the group who found him that they did not touch the body. If he's left any debris on the inside of the yellow bag we'll find it."

Adams called Sam and asked him to bring Bradley and Jones to Lindisfarne to assist with interviewing all remaining people on the island. He then settled into a chair in the nearest hostelry to speak with Bradstock.

"Detective Inspector, I'm going to give you a chance to let D.C.I. Renton tell me this himself. I have no intention of disrupting your hunt for Frank if there is even the slightest chance of him still being there. What Renton has done can't be undone, and we just carry on as if he hasn't told you. If this Frank exposes him we will deal with that appropriately. I don't want you to accrete any blame for this. I want your focus maintained. Is that clear?"

"It's clear Sir, but I can't just..."

"There's no more to be said at present, I'll discuss the plan going forward when I arrive. Don't bother about picking me up, I'll find my way to the island." Ben Adams wasn't happy about this temporary deceit, but Bradstock was right to stress the need to keep focus on Frank, and at least he didn't veto protection for Jane and Daniel.

*

The internet was ablaze with comments on the photographs posted. They were arranged in a slider which began with the yellow 'corpse bag' bobbing in the sea. The succeeding ones showed the dog, then the tourists and finally the police inspecting the content. Some of the comments were technically oriented to try and estimate angles and relative positions of the sun, to produce a grid of time for each. Without trying to be overly precise, there didn't appear to be much more than two hours between the first and last pictures. It also meant that he was on the island when Adams arrived. There was a slender time gap between seeing the body and Ben Adams issuing the order to close the causeway exit. Frank posted another picture of the police interviews of those leaving the island. This one had a time stamp on it and it was accurate. It also had a comment appended, saying that the bloggers should concentrate on the identity of the deceased person. 'The purpose is most important, and that is often correlated to the celebrity of the man. Culture implies civilised attitudes and pursuits. Mirage is a tool as well as a state of mind, in the hands of cynics. It matters not that I am uploading evidence to show that the police could not find me in a population of hundreds, especially as I am now returned to the obscurity of millions. Help them interpret the divisiveness of Ministers of Hypocrisy'.

*

Adams was not convinced that Frank had escaped Lindisfarne, but it only took another four hours for him to concede. Bradstock's facial expression of exasperation was but the gilding of the lily.

Because of Donoghue's crippling workload Adams had, as requested, sent the genitalia DNA profile to D.C.I. Forster, and asked if his forensics department could check any samples of Driscoll's property for a match. They had collected quite a few and separated them into two lots. The first had only one set of fingerprints, and the second had multiples, probably including the cleaner. They had tested the available DNA from the first lot and the result was definite. The comparison showed that Driscoll was the previous owner of the genitalia from the Priory corpse. It was good news and bad, just as Sam Gibson had said, they now had to figure out who really killed Brett Driscoll. The mitigating consequence however could be that if this was known, they couldn't be far away from the overarching connection they needed so badly. It pleased Bradstock because he interpreted this as the elimination of one escape route for Bruce Middleton. He had feared the connection of Middleton's treachery with the Intranet being linked to a grander agenda of the Colony. The absolute proof of Driscoll being an integral part of Frank's plan was viewed as a challenge rather than an impasse.

*

This began the process of raking over the coals again. With Stephanie on leave, Adams had to show contrived appreciation for Bradstock's presence, because he actually said something which nobody else had strayed upon.

"When you say that one of the hallmarks of the killings, apart from this latest one at Lindisfarne, is dismemberment, it could equally be amputation." Adams asked for clarification. "Well, the only one of the original five you haven't discussed today is the torso of the young female. In order to contribute that torso to the composite corpse, he had to amputate arms, legs, head and genitals. It's just a thought."

The others nodded. Sam offered corroborative support.

"Indeed, the two half-bodies had a finger and toe removed before they were stitched together. I suppose we can assume the separation of half of each, which would then to be joined to the other, is a kind of 'amputation'. It involves more body parts, but it is still symbolic of removal of the 'bad' part."

*

Having introduced Alex Blake and Gerry Walton, Stephanie sat back and listened carefully. They talked about Robert Blake for over an hour, had refreshments and began to run out of things to say. She asked Gerry what he meant by his comment that he was always envious of Robert Blake's relationship with his son.

"I never married, but I did have a son. She thought I was beneath her aspirations for an ideal husband and left. That's when I joined the Green Howards. I resisted Robert's many invitations to visit his family because, well you know – there but for the grace of God and all that. I just pretended I didn't have a son. Many of the men in our unit had children and I couldn't join in the conversation most of the time."

"Do you remember their names, you know the other Green Howards?"

"Not really, Robert was my special friend, and anyway many of the originals didn't make it back. I do have a diary of sorts somewhere. I used to write notes when the others were talking family stuff. I'll ask one of the nurses where she put it. I haven't looked at it since I came here." The nurse produced it after quite a search in the storeroom and he handed it to Stephanie. "Take it. I won't have need of it for much longer."

Stephanie didn't want to begin reading through it while they chatted a little longer. She also drove Alex back to Broad Meadows before she even glanced at the opening page. The grammar was poor and the spelling even worse, so she decided to leave it until she got home. David Miller hadn't been able to join her otherwise he could have helped during the journey.

# Chapter 26

Jack Renton woke to find both Daniel and Jane at his bedside. His son was in a wheelchair, but at least he was clear of any serious pulmonary threat, and was making good progress with his other injuries. He seemed to have found his tongue again and launched into an apology for the sour reception he'd given his father during their previous meeting. He'd also seen the internet pictures from Lindisfarne.

"This maniac has to be caught Dad, he's actually getting support from groups on the web. It's sickening to see them treating this as some sort of entertainment, and they are now talking of forming a cult. They don't even know why he is killing these people. How will you stop him?" Jane was quite short with him.

"Daniel, your father has just come out of surgery. For God's sake stop talking about this case. We have to allow those whose job it is to get on with it."

"But it is Dad's job, I'm just ask...."

"Leave it please. I brought you to his ward on the understanding it was strictly to see how he was feeling." Renton held up his hands.

"I'm feeling a little dizzy, but much better for seeing the two of you together. Your Mum's right Daniel, I have to let Ben and his team get on with their task while I recover. Hopefully the killer will be apprehended by then, but if he isn't I'll do everything I can to bring him down. Now, tell me about your progress – you look much stronger than you did just a few days ago."

Daniel was annoyed by his mother's interference but responded by telling Renton that he might soon be allowed to go home and return regularly for physiotherapy. This caused a mild rush of panic. Renton felt Daniel and Jane would be safer in hospital.

"What do you mean by soon?"

"About a week or two, they haven't decided yet"

"Ok, that's great. Jane have you got my phone?"

"Yes, but why do you need it? You've just had a serious operation."

"I want to tell Ben I'm fine, but tired and that he needn't come to see me just yet. Give it to me and I'll ring him while you're here if that makes you happy." She handed over the mobile and he made the call. Adams was astute enough to recognise the invitation.

*

Greg Watson had more information on Radcliffe's cause of death.

"I have to say Ben that this is something I haven't seen before. He has been injected with a massive dose of Pantothenic Acid, but I also found burn marks on his scalp – both sides. They were near the temples, but initially obscured by his hair."

"I'm sorry Greg, er Panto what acid?"

"It's more commonly known as Vitamin B5."

"How could that kill him?"

"As I said it was a really massive dose, and combined with a serious level of electric shock. Any substance, if delivered to the body in uncontrolled amounts can throw our system out of balance, and some normally harmless foodstuffs can simulate a toxic effect if sufficient is ingested. Anyway, the key observation I have made is that he suffered a horrendously painful death. The brain tissue has been reduced to nothing more than pulp. The burn marks are indicative of electrical charge, but they must have been very high to cause this cerebral jellification. The Pantothenic Acid seems to have been delivered first as there are traces where you'd expect them, if they had been digested rather than injected."

"Thanks for the quick turnaround Greg, not that I know what to do with this information."

"Well, I said after the Priory episode that this man was proficient in surgical techniques, and it appears he also has quite a broad medical knowledge. We aren't dealing with some bumbling amateur here." Adams tried to make sense of this when Watson spoke again. "By the way, my original time of death estimate was not quite correct, so we are now talking more than three hours before we found him on the beach."

"How can that be? It took us over an hour to get to him after we were alerted, and surely Frank would have needed a properly equipped place to perform this combined injection, wait for this simulated digestion and then zap him with what seems to be a controlled electrical charge. We have searched the entire, albeit small island and found nothing, so I can only assume he was killed somewhere else. He must have posted his message about the body after he dumped it in the water, so it could only have been from the island or somewhere near. He's always used public IP addresses for his posts, and maybe he hooked into a wireless connection. We should follow this up. It still doesn't leave much margin for error, especially as we know from his subsequent posts, that he took pictures of us at the scene, and still got past our checkpoints."

"It is very tight unless he has an accomplice for taking the pictures. It could be someone who just blends in. You know, he's often mentioned these 'unfortunates' as part of his mission. Anyway, as always, I must leave the detective work to you"

A confused Ben Adams was walking in the direction of forensics to see if Donoghue had found anything to help him see through the fog. He stopped and headed back to the office. On the way he returned Renton's call. His Boss had switched to vibrate only and picked up.

"Thanks for getting back to me Ben. My thought process seems to be getting back to normal. Daniel mentioned that he may be discharged to outpatient status within a week. I assume you have the protection operating by now."

"Yes, we have two units, each operating on a four hour shift basis. Why, is there a problem?"

"No, I just wanted to let you know about the possibility of Daniel coming home. Then I began to think – how did Frank know he was in hospital in the first place? I've got so used to him giving us information, and assuming he knew everything we did, that I missed that one. Of course he follows us around – The Priory, Chopwell Woods, Chollerford, and I suppose he has watched my house to see when he could break in. But I did ask him if he knew what he was looking for when taking Donoghue's forensic report on Rory Davenport, or whether he'd just found it amongst other stuff. He said that was for me to find out. And now I'm wondering about Daniel and Jane."

"Mmm, that is strange. Do you think he did know about Donoghue's report?"

"Well, I couldn't find anything else of any significance amongst the stuff I took home to read. I can't really understand why he would break in, risking being caught, unless there was something specific he wanted. Also, at the time I surprised him and Friend, I would normally have been home. It bothers me that he might have known I was on my way to Edinburgh and he knew Daniel was the reason, but how?"

"Do you think he has a mole in our team?"

"I'm not suggesting that, but stranger things have happened. We have taken these two young guys on courtesy of Bradstock, and he may have said something inadvertently while arranging their temporary transfer."

"There's another possibility though, Steph's new boyfriend."

"Surely not Ben, she wouldn't talk about the case to someone she's just met."

"Maybe, but you know where there's passion involved, there's a weakness. Sorry Boss, you wouldn't know about that would you? Seriously, if you think there is a conduit, we should pursue it as a matter of protocol. I'll put out some feelers right away as I'm about to have another whiteboard session with them."

"Thanks Ben, I'll let you know if Daniel gets discharged. It may all come to nothing anyway; I'd have thought Frank would have published my misdemeanour with the forensic report by now."

*

Their faces said it all. Stephanie wanted to pore her way through Gerry Walton's diary. Sam had papers all over his desk, some obscuring his mid-morning sausage butty, and the young guns were printing off what they thought were relevant posts on the Lindisfarne scenario.

"Look, we have to do this. Sam, you said yourself that if we found Driscoll was in the list of victims we'd have to explain it. Well then, let's start with that. He's the fourth definite contributor to the puzzle and we can't make sense of it? That's not acceptable I'm afraid, the media are hovering over us again with this Lindisfarne business."

He sketched in what Greg Watson had told him about the time and cause of death. This did fire up their interest. Stephanie asked about the victim's skin.

"What exactly do you mean Steph?"

"Frank claims his unfortunates have been 'treated' to bring them to peace. Friend had that awful frazzled skin and I noticed he had slightly darker, circular areas near his temples. Maybe he overshot with Radcliffe?"

Adams immediately picked up the phone to Watson.

"Hi Greg, you didn't mention anything about Radcliffe's skin, was it normal?"

"Mostly, however there are signs of puckering in patches, why do you ask?"

"It just occurred to Stephanie that Friend, you know the big guy who is one of Frank's helpers, has badly affected skin, following some treatment designed to help him."

"I know who you mean. I didn't really see much of him when he was here so it's difficult for me to comment on any similarity."

"She says she noticed similar 'burn circles' on his temples."

"Right, well that is interesting. If the process is the same, then it's logical that it wouldn't have been propagated in Radcliffe's case, because his body functions were terminated, as opposed to this other chap. It certainly is worth looking into; can we bring this fellow in again?"

"Not really, he's gone missing. Thanks Greg, I'll bring him in if we can find him."

The discussion resumed and Sam said it made sense.

"If we rewind a little, there was this difference in how he treated the armless and legless victims compared to the others. Radcliffe is one of the others – guilty of something, according to Frank. The unfortunates receive partial exposure to this treatment to give them a better life, but stopping short of a lethal dose."

"Ok," said Adams enthusiastically, "so where does this idea take us?"

He saw only blank faces.

# Chapter 27

"So Steph, did David go with you on your Samaritan trip with Alex Blake?"

"No, he couldn't make it, why?"

"I'm just curious about him. You've never brought him to meet your colleagues when we have a drink after work."

"We haven't been to the pub for weeks Sir, so that would have been difficult."

"Does he have a second name?"

"Of course he has a surname, it's Miller, David Miller, what the hell is this really about?"

"Hey, take it easy, I'm simply pleased you have found something else in your life other than this stuff. With everything that's going on, we don't get much chance for small talk. If you think I'm being intrusive just say so. I wish I had someone to take my mind off the grind now and then. I hope it goes well for you."

"Sorry Sir, I get a lot of this third degree from my mates. They say he's very nice one minute and then tell me I know nothing about him. It's so annoying. He's hoping to become a partner in his company this year. He doesn't talk about his work much, but I know he's a financial analyst with Northern Portfolio Services in town. We just hit it off because we enjoy the same things. I understand his reticence to talk about his work. I almost lost the chance of promotion over that mistake I made, by contacting the Cologne police without informing the Boss, a couple of years ago. I won't let anything of that nature stand in my way again, and he's the same. We won't be together longer than this mutual respect lasts, as we're both too selfish to commit to anything except our careers. I'll ask him if he wants to have a beer next time we go to the pub. Thanks for asking." Adams smiled and asked Sam to come into the office.

"What do we know about the new boys other than what their official personnel files tell us?"

"Nothing I guess, is there a problem?"

"No, it's just that they aren't really proactive are they?

"I suppose not, they just do what they're told and then stop until I give them something else. I thought that's what we wanted. I'm very happy with them for now because it's legwork we need. In fact I was going to suggest that we don't need to always have them in the brainstorming sessions. It slows down their work-rate and they don't contribute much to the lateral thinking approach."

"This is a high profile case Sam, and there are all of our other subordinates who we kind of take for granted, maybe you're right, let's leave them out of the 'think tank' meetings at present. Do you think they talk about the case with their old mates?"

"Who knows? Do you want me to run a few checks? Remember I spent most of my career in Middlesbrough. I can do an 'old pals' reunion act and see if there's any smoke from elsewhere in the Three Rivers Force."

"Good idea. Now then, Steph is going through this diary from Gerry Walton, so what do you think about Driscoll? The others didn't have much to say."

"I haven't moved from the position that the links could be to people Frank didn't want to die, apart from Radcliffe. I have to agree with Steph that although we have four identities of the deceased at the Priory, we only have a link of two of them to a living person, and that is Alex Blake. His has a direct connection to his mother obviously, and by birth date to Reginald Powell, whereas links to the others may be alive or dead, and probably indirect or even obscure. I'd be going through that diary with a magnifying glass. Getting back to Driscoll, at thirty-three, he and Martha were older than the others, she was forty-three. They both represent bad treatment rather than careful surgery, presumably for bad deeds in Frank's eyes. Let's look into Driscoll's teenage years, for something the Colony must have only discovered later. I honestly think that they didn't intend to kill him, merely humiliate him. They were more concerned about Clyde Hendricks than Driscoll. I don't like coincidence, but we have to accept that Frank is responsible for his death, not the Colony. It will all fall into place if we look in the right place."

"Ok, get on to his school records and work from there."

Stephanie was suffering eye strain from trying to interpret Gerry Walton's hieroglyphics. He used many abbreviations, especially when referring to people. Those from the days of his service with Robert Blake she listed, alongside immediate comments Walton had made. The only one she recognised was R.B. – Robert Blake. She pleaded with Adams to let her go back to see Walton.

"I can be there and back in less than a working day Sir, and if it draws a blank I'll make up the time in another way."

"Very well, but how do you think any names can help us?"

"I wish I knew. Okay, it's a gut feeling, but Alex Blake, although he doesn't know it, holds the key to making connections we can't yet see. Everyone else is dead." She left in a hurry in order to beat the cross town peak hour.

*

Renton's mobile vibrated. It was Frank.

"Your Detective Inspector is pretty good. He almost gathered me up by his quick action in closing the causeway. Maybe he should replace you permanently, and you could take the credit for mentoring him. How are you?"

"What do you mean how am I?"

"When we last met you were close to being discharged. Has that changed?" Renton thought carefully before answering.

"What difference does it make to you?"

"I said I wanted details of information you had gathered on the Priory victims other than Rory Davenport. That is still the case."

"Well I had a little accident right after that call. I fell and aggravated my head injury. The doctor has had to remove a blood clot and I'm recuperating." He thought this could buy more time for Frank to reconsider his threat. "So I can't say when they'll let me out."

"I see. I will call again."

*

The news of the bizarre death of a potential future senior Cabinet Minister went global, especially as it was connected to the Frankenstein case. Although he didn't follow this story on the internet, he spotted it on TV. Kurt Eisel thought that the explanation of the cause of death, as electrically induced cerebral meltdown was somewhat familiar, and it was also in the Northeast of England. He had suffered in recent months from the Brazilian government's new edict that certain preserved areas in the Amazon basin were accorded new protective measures. The area of the Manakalia was amongst them. His pleas of good relations with the tribe fell on deaf ears. He became depressed and found that the prospect of living for twelve months at a time in Western Europe was both emotionally stultifying and well beyond his financial means. He remembered how relatively well to do Frank was, and thought about paying him a visit. It had to be him. In contrast to the police, he knew the real identity of the Frankenstein killer, but not much about the people he'd killed. It seemed like a powerful bargaining tool, but not a flexible one. He would have to initially acquaint Frank with a stark choice, and then gauging his reaction to some form of hush money, decide on whether to talk to the police. There was no reward on offer so it was a one way street. He set off in pursuit of this spiritual anti-depressant.

*

The local Northumberland police had been very helpful, not only on the day Radcliffe's body was discovered on Lindisfarne, but with subsequent enquiries. They had questioned several permanent residents of the island and a name kept cropping up as having been there that morning. He was a regular visitor and therefore not suspected by the locals as having any involvement. When Adams heard of this he responded immediately by driving north. He met Sergeant Bill Jenkins, who described the man. He fitted the description the Newcastle police had on file. He was thirty-two years old, a surgeon in the city, had a slim build and then there was the intriguing revelation that he was a known friend or acquaintance of Radcliffe. Golf, Chamber of Commerce and Charitable Trust activities brought them together quite often. The clincher was that they were seen the evening before Radcliffe's death having a disagreement in a posh restaurant. Adams asked where they had obtained all of this information.

"Actually it is from various sources; some of it from locals, some from the hospital, the rest from Radcliffe's wife."

"You haven't spoken to him yet?"

"No, I thought it would be better if we built the picture and you talked to him first."

"Great, thanks Bill, I'll bring him in for routine questioning based on his last evening meal with Radcliffe. Did anyone know why he left the island early that day?"

"Apparently not, do you want me to ask them about it now?"

"No, let's check your information out with the man himself. The time he left might prove to be critical, and I'd like his answer first."

Jonathan Corbett was clearly surprised at the request, as he claimed he had heard of Radcliffe being identified late in the afternoon, and had spoken with the Newcastle police, asking if there was anything he could help them with.

"I told them I was on Lindisfarne that morning. My boat is being refurbished and I went to see the estimate, talk it through with the chap who gave me the quote, and left. I said he was a personal and professional friend. I wanted more information from them than they appeared to want from me."

"What time did you leave Lindisfarne?"

"About twenty minutes after I arrived. I had a procedure scheduled for early afternoon, and I was tight for time. Why do you want to know that?"

"We have to account for as many movements as we can to eliminate people from our enquiries. I'm sorry to have to ask, but can you provide confirmation of what time you were in the operating theatre?"

"Of course, but I don't like the tone of this interview anymore."

"That may be but we have witnesses to a quarrel you had with Mr. Radcliffe the evening before."

"A quarrel, I'm afraid you have been misinformed. We disputed the date of the Open Golf Championship for next year because we'd agreed to take our wives and make a full weekend of it. Tim had been offered tickets, as he often does, sorry did, and he had got the date wrong. I had to wave my golf diary in his face before he sank to his chair and conceded the point. He then began laughing at yet another cock-up he'd made. I always teased him about attention to accuracy, as it is unforgiving in my work if you get it wrong, apparently that is not so critical in politics."

"Thank you Mr. Corbett, is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

"Well, I've had a little time to digest the horror of losing a good friend but it hasn't helped much. Am I allowed to ask if it is really part of this awful Frankenstein case?"

"You can ask, but I have to give the stock answer. We are following up various leads. Are you available if we need to speak to you again?"

"Certainly, here's my card. You can always find me at the R.V.I. if my mobile is switched off. I believe your immediate superior is with us." Adams thanked him and escorted him out of the building.

# Chapter 28

Clive Donoghue's initial optimism of finding leads from the yellow body bag from Lindisfarne was beginning to peter out. It was Angela who pestered him into concentrating on the bag itself.

"I've made a few calls and from my description none of the regional hospitals seem to use these bags. The ones they use are either black or dark green. I've also done checks with outdoor activity stores and they weren't much help either, but one of the people I spoke to said he would take a look at it, thinking it might be from the Air-Sea rescue organisation. He says they have certain codes on them which have to be resistant to sea water erosion for quite long periods, and even if they aren't visible to the naked eye they can be detected with special scanners. Should I get him to check it out?"

"Maybe Angela, but I want to finish testing our samples before we potentially contaminate the evidence. Let's get this done as soon as we can." She was frustrated by his unswerving adherence to the forensic bible, but merely shrugged her shoulders.

*

Sam had shared a few beers with ex-colleagues at their usual stamping ground and had quietly winkled out a surprising social habit of James Bradley. Apparently he still had regular drinking sessions in Stockton. That wasn't particularly odd, but his companion didn't really fit with Sam's previous estimation of D.I. Cooper. Bradley was being portrayed as 'one to watch'. Detective Sergeant Andy Melrose was someone whose nose Sam Gibson would be happy to follow.

"He, Bradley, isn't what he seems to be. He is being fast-tracked, not by the official route, rather by his own. He comes across as a bit lethargic, and poorly focussed, but that's his shield. Cooper picked up on this and is happy to use it to his own advantage. I'm not saying Bradley would take risks with sensitive information which could land back at his own door, he is mentored by Cooper and you know exactly how he works, enough said. How did you get lumbered with Bradley anyway?"

"He was allocated to us after D.C.I. Renton was hospitalised, together with Simon Jones. We had no input. You have me a bit worried now Andy, what about Jones?"

"Simon is a nice lad, nothing to worry about, but nothing special. I wouldn't be surprised to see him end up in uniform again. He's not really cut out for C.I.D. work; you know you can tell in the first few weeks if they are going to make it Sam. I would dump Bradley if I was in your shoes, but Cooper might have something to say about that."

"Thanks for the advice Andy. If I remember correctly Cooper has had his fair share of ups and downs with Bernard Cousins. I'll ask Adams to check it out, because Cousins needs some brownie points with Bradstock, who is already on a 'cleaning house' rampage in London."

"You didn't hear it from me Sam, but lots of people would be happy to see Cooper take a tumble. Do you want another beer?"

"Ok, but make mine a half, I have to drive back."

*

Stephanie found Gerry Walton was having one of his poor days, and the nurse said she shouldn't stay too long. He said he was in considerable pain, but was pleased to see her and noticed that she was clutching the diary.

"It's not much of a testament to a person's life is it? I thought about burning it many times but never had the guts to do it."

"I can't follow too much of the descriptive passages but you seem to mention most of your colleagues and friends by using their initials."

"Yes, it was easier for me that way. You know we didn't get much time to write during the campaign in Yemen. There was always something going on with insurgents. It's a kind of war we aren't comfortable with. We're trained to fight the enemy in a recognisable uniform, not to suspect the people we're trying to help. It puts pressure on the relationships between even the best of friends. Seeing your closest buddy blown to hell by a child suicide bomber makes you question why you are there in the first place, and after that you have the chilling feeling that you can't win such a war." Stephanie was really moved by the emptiness in this inarticulate man's eyes. He was about to expire and had no idea why he'd been put on the planet.

"I suppose it doesn't help when civilians like me don't understand what you were going through. I'm going to continue reading your diary, but the nurse wants me to let you rest today, so I'll just ask you about the first few initials. I recognise R.B. as Alex's father Robert, your best friend. What about N.D.?"

"That was Norman Dexter, and he was always last out of the mess room. He was killed by a sniper, and fell right next to me. He knew he was going to die and gave me his wife's photo in a locket in his neck chain. I took it to her a few months later."

"Then you talk about E.R."

"Yes, Eric Rogers, he was the real comedian of the squad, not me. It was obvious to the rest of us that it was to cover his fear. He was to be discharged after losing a leg. It wasn't the way he'd feared, he was hit by a runaway armoured vehicle and trapped against a wall. He contracted gangrene and passed away before he could be shipped home." Stephanie was rather glad that she was only going to ask about a few more. It was a harrowing experience hearing about the personalities as well as their fate.

"A.C. comes next."

"Ah yes, Major Cranston, he was a real leader of men. When I talked earlier about our confusion over the purpose of our mission, he was always able to temporarily disperse the fog. He was an old school soldier. He knew everyone's name and those of their family. He had time for you when he must have had pressing problems of his own. This man kept up our spirits by example as well as with his words. Other officers of his rank I'd known were aloof, requiring a 'distance' from the ordinary recruits like me, whereas the Major was able to bridge that gap. Yemen was his last tour, and he was expected to take a position in the M.O.D. Strategy team somewhere. I saw his picture in their magazine a few times and he retired early because of Dementia, the memory loss ruled him out of continuing in his new job, such a shame. Yes, he was a great man, but unfortunately when I went to see him with Robert Blake he didn't recognise us. It was one of the saddest days of my life."

"Ok Gerry, there's just one more for today. What can you tell me about D.B?"

"Donkey Baxter, well his name was Donald actually. He could carry more kit than any two of the rest of us. He had no fear either. He was one of those men who knew he would make it through the campaign and helped raise the confidence of others. He didn't make it though, because he saw a group of men in the next unit in the line struck down by an RPG. The line was called to retreat to better cover, but Donkey ran to rescue whoever was still alive. He hoisted a badly injured, screaming man with half of his face blown off, on to his shoulder and began to pick his way back." Gerry stuttered and succumbed to the need for a short silence, marshalling resistance to being overcome, before continuing. "He got back to us, but the soldier was dead. Donkey was never quite the same. Less than a week later he responded to a little boy who was begging in the street. Kneeling down to give the child part of a chocolate bar, the bomb was detonated. There was virtually nothing left of him or the boy." It was Stephanie who couldn't hold back her swirling emotions. From the first day she'd seen the Priory corpse on the Intranet, she had marked it as the worst experience of her life. This man had seen worse on a daily basis, and they were people who were known to him.

She made sure Gerry knew she was coming back to see him. The look in his eyes for the first time betrayed anticipation of his own demise. "I'm really looking forward to that. I'll get the nurse to get us some of my favourite biscuits to go with our tea. I think you'll like them."

*

Renton received another call from Adams.

"I hated doing it Boss, but I checked out Steph's boyfriend David Miller, and he is genuine. Everything she was prepared to tell me about him ties up. However, Sam pulled something out on James Bradley. He's one of Cooper's moles and I'm going to speak with Cousins to move him on, but it isn't really pertinent to the leak of Daniel's hospital admission. Cooper is a slippery anal orifice, but being associated with someone like Frank is way out of his bailiwick. So it's still a mystery. Anyway the locals gave me a lead on the Lindisfarne killing, and it seemed like a good match. The guy was actually there that morning. It turned out to be iffy though. He was the right age, build, and is a surgeon, but he wasn't anywhere near six feet tall. He works where you are – his name is Corbett. Do you know of him?"

"Yeah, he had the final say on my operation. He's definitely not our man Ben, apart from his lack of height, his voice is totally wrong. When I spoke to Frank, dressed as a clown, without knowing it was him, I remember saying that he didn't have a regional accent. Then when he called me shortly afterwards to make the threat, his real voice became permanently etched in my mind. Corbett speaks well enough but can't quite disguise his Geordie roots."

"Ok, well that saves me making him come in again. Is it ok for me to visit yet or is Jane still on the prowl?"

"Just come in Ben, Daniel would appreciate your company just the same as I would. Jane can like it or lump it. I look forward to seeing you soon."

*

Bernard Cousins wasted no time in arranging for an interview with D.I. Cooper. It was related to his own embarrassing secondment to the Penshaw Monument case. He hadn't made any real progress following the discovery of the severed arm, and then the rest of the body of Sandy Evans being washed up at the mouth of the Wear. Cousins and everyone else suspected that the Colony had arranged the hit shortly after Evans was released from prison. It was made to look like Frank's work, but this had been denied, and the available evidence supported that denial. Cooper was known to have contacts who could exchange information with the mob. Cousins raised the subject of James Bradley, and this threw Cooper, who'd prepared himself for a different thrust. The tactic turned into a bluff and Cousins threatened an independent police inquiry into information obtained and circulated through Bradley.

"This has been inadvertently discovered while he has been at the Newcastle office. Your protégé has been indiscreet D.I. Cooper. You may also be aware of Chief Bradstock's war on corruption in the Capital at the moment, and he is determined to cleanse the force nationwide. If you are prepared to let James Bradley off the hook by denying these leaks, then your career is likely to end with your noble sacrifice. You will be wondering what it will take for me to discipline Bradley and ensure an experienced officer such as yourself isn't tarnished with his impropriety. It's very simple. We have additional DNA from the severed arm which does not belong to the owner, lots of it. So far we don't have a match. We know it comes from within the Colony, and all we need is a little guidance on where to look. We can be creative with why we would like to interview such a character and ask for DNA for elimination purposes for a different crime. It will all be wrapped up without a hint of your involvement. I need an answer now, because Bradley is about to be informed of the internal inquiry, and he may not be as selfless as you are. When is it that you retire, well, let me rephrase that, when would you have retired under normal circumstances? Please don't piss me about. I have to travel this evening to see Bradstock."

Cooper was a time-hardened cop, and also recognised a fit-up when he saw one. These things usually went the way they were designed to go, and he knew they would start at the bottom. While he considered all of his options, Cousins rang Newcastle and asked Adams to be ready for the arrival of a party of officers to take Bradley to Durham for his interview. As he pulled his papers back into a file and stood up to go, he casually remarked, "You haven't even asked me for the specific information we have gathered. I can only imagine that is because you are in even deeper shit than I thought." Cooper folded and said he would get one name for Cousins. "Oh no, the future tense isn't open to you in that sense. I need it now, as I'm driving to London from here, and Bradley is on his way to meet an internal investigation panel. If he implicates you, and I'm sure he will, you are going to need testimonials from people like me to push the verdict toward it being one person's word against another. I have a file of stuff here which would be better for the entire Three Rivers Force if it was buried, but one way or another it isn't going to be allowed to head in my direction. You are that safeguard, at least for now. Tomorrow will be too late."

Cooper spelled out a name letter by letter, as he didn't know whether the meeting was being recorded. "B-a-r-r-y- K-e-n-y-o-n, Chief Constable Cousins." The reference to Cousins title was deliberate, in the event that this internal inquiry did rebound further up the food chain.

"Thank you, and don't try to contact Bradley until his judgement is known. If he rings you, refuse the call. He has to accrete the entire blame or the deal is off."

# Chapter 29

Frank was back online and called Renton to let him know of his post.

"You will be relieved that I have kept your name out of the firing line for now. The disclosure of Rory Davenport's identity as one of the victims has been confirmed by me. I have also hinted that the plods are not as incompetent as I had initially portrayed them, suggesting that perhaps they know the identities of others. I have achieved my second stage objective with the Lindisfarne publicity, so I am willing to revise my tactics within the overall plan. The internet may provide clues as to why Davenport was chosen, but those bloggers don't have any means of linking him with the others, whereas you do. So, there is another opportunity for them to overtake you again – with my assistance. We must have a level playing field. With respect to my threat against your family, do not be lulled into complacency, as this slight alteration of course does not affect that aspect. Have you noticed I am no longer employing voice distortion?"

"Yes, I've noticed that, but you aren't speaking in your Northumberland Street voice either."

"Well done Inspector. You know, we really should meet again. I will consider it, but not for a while. Now, I have a confession of my own to make. I was economical with the truth a little when I first told you that you could save lives by cooperating with me. I suppose you guessed that it did not include those already in cold storage, waiting patiently for their entrée. The symbol was explicit insofar as twenty-six were in the plan. So we have five plus two, plus one, hence eight in all who have been exposed thus far, therefore only eighteen to go. Your people have not spent much time on the hand I gave them, or maybe they have and are keeping quiet about it. Nothing that I give you is irrelevant." A shudder squirmed its way down Renton's spine. Frank was right, as he'd never even been told of the hand accompanying Radcliffe's body. It may have been because Adams had decided not to bother him with case details just yet, and it had not been disclosed on the news. He would ask Ben when he came to see him.

*

Bradley was astonished when he was marched out of the Newcastle office by his escorts. Even Adams thought it was all a bit melodramatic. The rest were speechless and as soon as the party had left, they demanded an explanation. Adams was quite convincing when he merely said, "Join the queue." Simon Jones looked more anxious than anyone else.

*

Stephanie showed Sam the names Gerry Walton had transcribed from their initials.

"Do any of these ring a bell with you?" Sam briefly glanced at the four names and shook his head. Stephanie was disappointed. "I know I'm obsessing again, but I also feel someone owes Gerry an audience. He hasn't talked to anyone about his terrible time in Yemen for many years, and he is about to die. It seems so damned unfair. I have to confess that part of my refusal to give up is driven by his plight, and I don't feel the slightest bit guilty about that. I won't get another pass out from Adams unless I have something genuine to bite on, so I might go to see him again at the weekend in my own time."

"Good on you Steph, you're not just a pretty face, you are a real cracker." She felt appreciated.

*

Cousins had brought Barry Kenyon in to help with a reported mugging in Sunderland town centre. He was relaxed because he had been nowhere near the incident and said he must have been wrongly identified. When asked if he wanted a legal presence he declined.

"Look, I don't have a criminal record, and that's important to me, so I'm cooperating with the police. I'll have a cuppa thanks, and a sandwich wouldn't go amiss. Come on, you scrub my back and I scrub yours. I don't mug people, I'm a respectable businessman. Prawns, you know that would be really nice – for the sandwich."

His attitude was bordering on arrogance but Cousins played along. The coffee cup was bagged after he had been allowed to go and Cousins took it himself to forensics.

"This sample is inadmissible as evidence because it wasn't given freely. I just want to know if it matches any DNA from the severed arm you already have on file. You don't need to know the identity. If there is a match I will get a legitimate sample. I didn't tell you any of this."

*

Bradstock had been informed of the James Bradley disciplinary hearing and took it well. The vague hint that they also had a lead on the Penshaw Monument killing perked up his interest, but Cousins said it was not advanced enough to get excited just yet.

"I stress the need for caution Sir, we have had so many false dawns that I've become more difficult to convince that we have a solid suspect. I'm more optimistic than I have been for a while, please give me a few more days and I'll report back." He got his wish.

*

Ben Adams wandered into Renton's ward and they immediately went to the noise cover of the tea room.

"Ben, tell me about this hand you found at Lindisfarne."

"How did you know about that?"

"It was on the internet."

"Shit, I haven't been keeping up with that stuff."

"I'm pulling your leg, it was courtesy of Baron Frankenstein."

"He told you that?"

"Yep, and he said it was important, well at least not irrelevant. Has either Greg or Donoghue checked it out?"

"I don't know, but I have no report yet, so maybe they're still working on it."

"A kick up the arse might help."

"Bloody hell, you must be about ready to come back, are you?"

"You bet, just as soon as the Doc signs my discharge sheet." They chatted for some time about the case and Renton concluded with his intention to clear the air with Bradstock before he took anything else for granted.

*

In the meantime Donoghue had capitulated to Angela's request to have her contact look at the yellow body bag. He had conceded there was nothing in the way of debris or fibres which could help guide them to any profile of use or ownership. The man took less than ten minutes with his scanner to rule out Air-Sea Rescue origin. Their hopes sank, but he picked up on the buttons. "This is irregular, and I'm only suggesting we should check out the stitching along the opening."

"Please explain," said Donoghue, "we may need to log anything you interfere with."

"Well, the armed forces sometimes use bags like this, but they usually have Velcro flap covers as well as zip fasteners."

"I see, well proceed then." He needed a magnifying glass.

"There we are, just as I suspected, this bag has been modified with easy to open buttons. You can just make out the original flap line of the Velcro stitches. Why would anyone do that?"

"I think I may be able to explain that," said Donoghue, "thank you for your help."

He turned to Angela and said, "We needed him out of the way before speaking to Adams, let's go." Angela's glow due to being right to bring in the body-bag expert changed to a wave of butterflies, at the thought of Ben Adams being told of her astuteness.

When Adams had heard the story he looked blankly at Donoghue. This didn't last long.

"The man said that the armed forces use bags which are fitted with zips and Velcro. I suddenly remembered that body-bags were different to body-part bags. The bags for a single body are also fitted with hermetically sealed closures for long transport trips in hot climates. Body-part bags in conflict areas are sometimes opened and closed several times in mobile field hospitals. It isn't always possible to choose where badly injured soldiers are treated. If you need more dots joined up, think about the surgeons who have to carry out this work."

"Whoa, you mean we have the link? Yes I see, no, I mean we couldn't see it, Clive. Fantastic, Angela, remind me to buy you a glass of Bollinger when this is all over."

"I'll hold you to that, and I have a witness."

It had all the hallmarks of a case-breaker and Donoghue's closing remark summed it up nicely. "I did say he would make a mistake, they always do, no matter how small. You can't make a fraction of a mistake in this business, it either is or it isn't a mistake. Well done Angela."

Adams gathered the depleted team into his office and he couldn't disguise his joy. When he explained it very slowly, Stephanie punched the air.

"I couldn't help feeling that Alex Blake could lead us somewhere, but I thought the military connection was likely to be a peripheral one rather than a bulls-eye."

"Ok Steph, what did you get from your visit to Gerry er what's his name?"

"Just some names, but neither Sam nor I recognise any of them."

"Well let's have a look."

When he first scanned them he shrugged his shoulders and was about to hand the list back. He hesitated and said, "Major Cranston. Why does that resonate? Bloody hell Sam, don't you remember?" A shake of the head urged Adams on. "Yes you do, when I was in Humberside checking on the delivery of the Priory coffin we talked about the Cranston father and son. You checked with the Swiss euthanasia clinic and they had no records for those people, so we assumed the name was false. What the hell were their forenames?" A short silence preceded an exclamation from Sam.

"They're here in my notebook. Arnold and Philip Cranston were the names you gave me. If they weren't false why did the clinic not have them?"

"I don't know, but if Philip Cranston is our man, maybe his father is still alive or has a grave here in the Northeast. Let's get on it and nobody else gets this information other than Renton, got it?"

They nodded and began to look for both names.

# Chapter 30

The case had apparently cracked but hadn't been solved. Adams shared the news with Renton as they were talking quietly in the hospital corridor.

"We have him in the crosshairs Boss. His military service record puts him in Yemen for several tours over a few years as a field surgeon, and then he retires. His father had slipped into Alzheimer's but is still hanging on. He can't tell us anything of course, but we're having difficulty tracing Philip, so we might be facing going to the media, but that's risky."

"Do you have photographs from his military records?"

"Yes, so at least that's a starting point for TV."

"What about the internet? He would like that."

"Mmm, maybe but we could be on a loser there, because he wants that publicity to go global. Do we want that?"

"We want him. Let's think on it. I have to get out of here. By the way, have you checked property records, electoral registers, hospitals, abattoirs, and military pension payments?"

"Not hospitals or abattoirs Boss, because we'd already completed those checks right at the beginning of the case. His father's pension is paid into the care home directly. Apparently Philip took a lump sum retirement option. Why do you ask about hospitals and abattoirs?"

"He may be retired from the forces, but he still has surgical skills and may need to keep them honed to do his dirty deeds. When we previously checked hospitals we didn't have a name. We do now."

"Yes, I missed that one. We'll get to it. Anyway I followed his father's property trail from when he was taken into care, and the entire proceeds went to the hospice to top up what they already received from the pension. His son's legacy went up in smoke in a flash, and that must really piss him off. It's bloody well immoral as well as being a motive."

"You've hit smack on the origin of the motive Ben."

*

Stephanie went back to see Gerry Walton as promised, and he had a sparkle in his eyes as he opened the packet of biscuits. They chatted for a while before she told him how helpful he had been, and asked him about other initials. Talking through his painful years like this seemed to help him shed a burden of having survived when so many did not.

"Who is J.A?"

"Johnny Allen; he should have been a professional footballer according to his version of events. He was a bit of a dreamer and that inability to concentrate got him killed. He should never have passed the entry tests for the army."

"This one says D.J. but surely he wasn't a DJ?"

"Damien Jacobsen, no he was born in Oslo, but his parents came to the UK when he was a toddler. He said that all he ever wanted to be was a soldier. He was the first one of our unit to be struck down. It hit us hard – they say the first one actually hardens you, but nothing does that. A roadside bomb blew almost half of our vehicle away. Damien's insides were strewn over the twisted metal. Two other men lost limbs. The rest of us had cuts and bruises, having been shielded by our friends."

"If you don't want to carry on Gerry, please tell me."

"It's ok. I've needed to do this for a long time."

"Well let me see, we have A.D."

"Archie Driscoll, now he was bit of a loner." Steph's radar switched to auto. "He hardly ever joined in conversation about his home life, which for most of the men was an anchor, but not me. I identified with him in a way because I never got to see my son. He had twin boys and I could tell he was proud of them. One of the replacements we got to keep our numbers balanced knew him, and he told us that his wife had run off with someone while he was on tour. His mother had to take the boys. He was constantly tortured by his adherence to duty and how this conflicted with his pangs to go back to the boys. It didn't matter in the end as he became mentally ill and shot himself."

Stephanie saw the signs of emotional turmoil building and comforted Gerry. They called a halt to memory lane for the day, and she said she would come back in a couple of weeks. She phoned Adams from the car and gave him the news.

"Brett Driscoll had a twin brother. His name was or is Kelvin, and they both followed their father into the armed forces. How did we miss this when we were checking out Brett?"

"It beats me Steph, but I'll find out. Anyway, great work, we just have to concentrate on finding Philip Cranston for now, the rest will come with it. It really feels good to have a specific name instead of constantly hiding behind 'Frank'." He had a breathless Sam Gibson waiting in his office.

*

It had been much easier for Kurt Eisel to find Philip Cranston, as he had his invoice details from the Amazon trip. Although Cranston was surprised to see Eisel, he was rather philosophical about his demands.

"Kurt, it demeans our shared experience to introduce such vulgar aspects so soon after your arrival. Look at Friend here; he is but one example of how my work has helped the many. All you had to do was explain your plight and I would have responded. Of course I'll help you. You can forget your threat, the treatment came about because of you, and I will honour that debt. I am disappointed by your aggressive attitude but I do understand how things in this life drive people to behave totally out of character. Listen, let us have something to eat and then I can show you how my work is carried out – from the garnering of the unfortunates to their treatment, and finally their rehabilitation. My father was one of them but sadly he was beyond help by the time I had the treatment ready. I can give you financial assistance, or you could join me in my work for periods of time, and your remuneration would more than cover your shortfall in sustaining life as an explorer. Don't decide now; please wait until you see what I have achieved?"

"But you have killed these people they talk about on the news?"

"As you well know from the Manakalia Kurt, there are rules. When they are broken, the punishment must be respectful of the needs of the entire tribe. They would have killed us, even though you were almost a deity in their eyes. We accepted that. What I am doing is no different to what the Manakalia Elders would do. Justice has many clients, and we can't always assume that it is metered out fairly by those who dispense it. Adjustments have to be made from time to time."

Eisel had a different perspective to most people because of his love of independence, and in reality he worked within his own 'laws'. He reflected on his abrupt approach to Cranston and agreed that he should at least evaluate the offer on the table. He began to think of a continuous involvement and reward rather than a single payoff. It did have a certain resonance with his self-regulated moral code.

*

Adams hadn't seen Gibson so agitated before. "What is it Sam?"

"We did miss out earlier on Philip Cranston when we trawled the hospital records. He has an outsourced position with the Regional Trust. It's the same damned problem with the Three Rivers Force, centralisation introduces another layer. His self-employment status doesn't show up in the individual hospitals, bloody bean-counting if you ask me. Anyway, he visits all of the hospitals on a demand basis. His expertise is appreciated, and he acts as back-up in theatre when they fall behind schedule or have high accident rates. He only assists the lead surgeons but has access to records, because he needs to prep just the same as the actual surgeon carrying out the procedure. He is apparently well liked amongst the fraternity."

"Christ, he's been walking around in our midst all of this time. Let's go get him Sam."

"Wait, that's not the important bit. I got Simon to look further into the funds of the property transfer from his father's house to the hospice. It's a broken down old place and they couldn't get rid of it at first, so it went to auction. Eventually it was taken off their hands by a buy-to-let company, and it's rented out. The wife died before the old man needed to go into care."

"Sam, can't we talk about this later? I mean it's very interesting but we need Cranston first."

"That's who the tenant is."

"Bloody Nora, my head is buzzing. Where is it?"

"You're really going to like this; it's in the remote recesses of Chopwell Woods."

"He's been taking the piss from day one. Let's introduce ourselves – it's overdue."

Renton had promised all manner of things to get discharged. He phoned Adams and was stunned by a rapid-fire update on everything which had happened in the last few hours.

"That's how the bastard knew Daniel was in hospital. You guys have made me redundant, where are you?"

"We're on our way to Chopwell Woods, and this also explains why he got away from us that day. He didn't, he just went home. We've got plenty of back-up for this Boss, so just go to the office and we'll introduce you to our new guest when we get back."

*

Philip Cranston had spoken to Friend while Eisel was taking a shower before his tour of the treatment facilities.

"Friend, I am sure you can remember the bad days before your treatment. Well, you didn't want to have it at first did you?"

"No, I was afraid."

"You screamed and we had to sedate you for the first one, do you remember?"

"I remember the pain."

"There was the pain of your sickness, and the pain of the treatment. It's not possible to have the treatment without that pain, but it slowly takes the other pain away doesn't it?"

"Yes, I wasn't so afraid the next time. It helped me."

"It helped you even though you didn't want it, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I need to help our new friend in the same way. He will also be afraid, just like you, and he will scream. So what must we do to help him?"

"We must keep him quiet and help him."

"That's right, and even when he asks us to stop, we must continue to help him. Do you agree?"

"I agree. He will be pleased when he knows."

"That is fine. So when I ask you to hold him you must not let him go until I say so, do you understand?"

"Yes I will stop him if he is moving."

Eisel was refreshed, and asked if they were going to have a snack before the tour. He felt a vice-like, suffocating grip around his arms and chest. The hypodermic pierced his neck and his writhing slowed, then limpness predominated. He was conscious but drowsy. Cranston talked to him.

"We thought it best to show you exactly how the treatment works rather than merely talk about it. Friend here will confirm that you shouldn't resist, because all will be well eventually."

Friend whispered in Eisel's ear, "We are helping you."

He was hoisted on to a trolley and restrained by Friend's enormous strength until they got to the murky garage. Although the combination of sedative and Friend's biceps ensured physical rebellion was futile, Eisel continued to scream for help. The sight of the Frankenstein machine thrust unrelenting fear into his synaptic impotence. The belted restraints were secured and the drone of the generator quickened.

"It could have been so different Kurt. Just think of me as the Senior Elder of the Manakalia. I find that in order to help you, drastic action is required. Normally, several gentle doses are recommended, but in acute cases we must opt for more effective levels of treatment. In your case the severity must be equal to the task. The good news is that it will only demand a single procedure."

The super-concentrated Cunecao was delivered and Friend smiled through Eisel's vocal protests. The interval between the injection and the electrode discharge would normally have been related to the progress of 'digestive' symptoms, but in this case there was no such delicate balance to monitor. Nevertheless, Cranston wanted to evidence the full regret, as measured by the building voltage. Eisel's resistance stopped suddenly as he felt Cranston was peering into his very soul. The heat transfer escalated and the screaming resumed. The settings were locked and Friend was escorted back to the house by Cranston. They were delighted that they could help Kurt Eisel and Friend was asked to run an errand, while the treatment took its course.

"Our new friend will need sustenance when the procedure is over. Get some milk and fresh bread, oh and some chocolate for yourself, you deserve it."

Cranston returned to the garage and prepared the surgical table. Eisel was now immobilised by his own muscle shock, and this would last for a while yet. Once he was lifted to the table he knew what was to follow. Unable to speak, scream or move, he glimpsed the saw as it passed by his eyes. He was seeing multiple visions of everything. There were several Cranstons and surgical implements. This was not one of the more careful procedures. The saw hacked rather than cut through Eisel's thigh, there was no external response as Cranston mused over what kind of transmuted pain the internal nervous system would pick up.

Eisel began to experience the numbing effect of Cunecao at last, but there was also something new with this dosage. The mind-expanding properties surged and he visualised a new phenomenon. In precisely the same way as electron microscopes allow the human eye to gate-crash atomic ballet, he could now see time differently. His focus became the theory of relativity, watching Cranston's slow motion actions was even more terrifying, until his projection of time adjusted to the situation. Smaller and smaller fragments of time became visible and the future was pushed further away. A millisecond was transmuted to an hour. It was more comforting, and so it told him that there was always a future. By approaching the proximate 'time packets' in this way, his brain seemed to dull the fear as well as the pain. The crimson wash of blood did not deter the surgeon, as he had entered some metaphysical state which simply drove him on. Limb by limb, the carnage continued. Life had gone from the patient, who had seen and felt his passage to blackness serenely, but the frenzied activity of the saw blade accelerated to its predetermined conclusion. The place was hosed down and the body parts hung up to 'settle' before they were placed with others in the walk-in freezer.

Philip Cranston became Kurt Eisel as he took the passport and handed it to a contact to get the genuine photograph professionally replaced by his own, and then he placed it with other documentation in the wallet. He dumped the black bag containing the blood-stained clothes in a public waste recycling facility. He then evaporated without returning to Chopwell Woods.

When Friend returned he was confused. His bewilderment intensified as Adams, Gibson and two squad cars pulled up. He retreated from the door. When the police got no response to the doorbell they broke down the locked door.

# Chapter 31

Adams rang the station to put out an APB for Philip Cranston. He didn't want to do this but there appeared to be no alternative and time had now become a constraint. His disappearance triggered country-wide vigilance and UK Border alerts. However, they didn't know of Eisel's existence, let alone his recent visit. Questioning of Friend was left to Renton, with whom he had a rapport. The scene at the house in Chopwell Woods could be compared to a heaving termites nest. The half-acre of land in which the building sat was completely cordoned off and guarded throughout the night. The arithmetic of previous bodies plus this haul, confusingly in their minds, added up to twenty-seven rather than twenty-six. As they had mostly been stacked in parts rather than discrete corpses, they put this down to miscounting and would rely on the eventual DNA list.

The internet had changed gear to reflect the chase, and Frank, as they still preferred to call him, was enjoying a sickening elevation to pseudo-martyrdom. The thirst for more information on his crusade was becoming ever more intense. Out of the blue a post appeared on several sites which claimed the project had not been completed. It described in authentic detail the scene which the police had found in the woods. It had to be taken seriously as it contained information which had not been released. The post was traced to an IP address in Birmingham. It indicated he hadn't yet left the country. The post was in response to the clamour for exposure of the true nature of his cause. It merely stated that the most important act of retribution was yet to come, adding that the police now had links to this purpose from the Priory corpses, but were probably unwilling to share them with the public. This single message managed to bring a temporary silence to the blogs before a second explosion of theories. It was becoming obvious to Renton and his team that Cranston wanted this to be discovered rather than handed out like some kind of 'Jesus will save us' leaflet.

The office had become more akin to an observation tower in no man's land than a well-oiled investigation force. "What's to investigate now?" asked Sam Gibson.

Renton took his time before answering.

"I'm going to have another crack at Friend, anybody want to join me?" Stephanie wearily raised her hand. The smile had returned to Friend's improving disposition, but he still asked the same question.

"Where is Best Friend?"

"That's what we hoped you could tell us. Can you remember anything new for us? What was the last thing he said to you?" The same reply was given.

"He wanted bread and milk. I got chocolate." Stephanie without really thinking about it pressed the right button.

"Had you done something special to earn the chocolate?"

"Yes, I helped with treatment for new friend." Renton wanted to follow this up but Stephanie prevailed.

"Did you know this new friend?"

"No, he was special friend of Best Friend so we had to help him."

"How did you help him?"

"He needed treatment. Nobody likes treatment but they need it."

"Was this new special friend still there when you went for your chocolate?"

"Yes."

"Why do you think they were gone when you came back?"

"It was a very long walk to the village and I didn't meet them, so I was confused again."

Renton winked at Stephanie and they both said it simultaneously. "The arithmetic wasn't wrong." It took them a while to leap to the possibility that Cranston had probably assumed a new identity. They alerted all checkpoints to this but had no idea of what that identity could be.

*

Stephanie received a call from Blackburn to say that Gerry Walton had passed away and she broke down in tears. He'd bought a new packet of biscuits for their next meeting. When she'd pulled herself together her thoughts wandered to this link with the armed forces. Beginning with Gerry, then Alex Blake, and recently Brett Driscoll, she had a flash of inspiration, and persuaded Renton to accompany her to speak with Friend once more.

"I know you are very sad and must be tired of speaking with us." He nodded as she handed him a chocolate bar. "Have you ever heard of a young man called Alex Blake?"

He threw down the chocolate and cowered in the corner just as he had in his very first meeting with Renton. "No, I must not talk about some friends."

"We just want to tell you he is happy now and lives in a nice house." Friend looked up sheepishly. Renton handed him the chocolate again.

"We don't want to ask you any more questions." He then lied. "Alex hopes you are happy."

The smile was back and they left him in good spirits. It was a hell of a long shot but they asked the local Hampshire police to check if Alex Blake had received any visitors who matched Cranston's description. The answer was negative, but Alex knew him well as the surgeon who had saved his life in Yemen.

*

As the days went by, the mood drifted from the original elation of finding his identity, to one of frustration and helplessness of looking for a needle in a haystack again. They weren't even directly involved in the manhunt. The tension was deflated a week later when Renton received a letter, postmarked in France. It was opened with extreme care and the contents emotionally flattened everyone.

'As you will gather I am no longer confined by the shores of our green and pleasant land, but don't despair, I shall return. You have not failed, and I have not succeeded, and there will be one more opportunity for both of us. I was mistaken in my initial judgement of you, and I do have genuine regret over personal threats to your family. Such is the world, as none of us behave the way we want to all of the time. There will be a hibernation period of sorts in order to let the bones settle. The internet shows that my purpose will at least have a fair debate, as opposed to a petition, which would be metaphorically shredded without conscience. Until then, we may meet again Inspector Renton.

Frank. (I prefer this tag you gave me to my birth name, at least for now.)'

*

The weeks turned into months and then years without any new information coming to hand. Renton's phone rang.

"It's me Inspector, and there is no point in disguising my voice any more. I suggest you call the London police. I will send you a text with the address after this call ends. There they will find what remains of the Chief of the M.O.D. or Ministry of Defence if you prefer. My task is complete and it is over to you. When the investigation goes cold I will write to you for the last time to fill in the blanks. They will also be posted after a respectful period. Then it is up to other people. In case you were not informed, I should let you know my father passed away last month, and so did some of my energy to carry the baton. Retirement beckons."

Renton performed this grisly duty by going through Bradstock, and it was later confirmed by a media circus that Frank's report was accurate. What the police saw when they arrived at the Kensington apartment was another gear-shift in brutality. The murder had not been committed at that address. Like the killing on Lindisfarne, the body was not dismembered. Thomas Howarth had literally been completely wrapped in special conductive foil and microwaved. His flesh was peppered with miniature explosive craters. It was as if he'd detonated from inside, but in a slow, controlled way. The corpse would be sterilised of forensic evidence. There seemed to be nowhere to start other than to implement the same manhunt all over again.

One Year Later

'Inspector Renton,

Please forgive the impersonal method of communication for our final contact. I trust you will find some closure with the following account. The support I had hoped for did materialise despite the unpalatable way of achieving it. That alone underlines the degree to which we have all drifted in terms of everyday morality. I do not apologise. We all have to die, and I have seen more than even most soldiers have, of death being treated as statistics in the theatre of war. That is very difficult to handle when you lose the battle to save a life several times in an hour. And when you do manage to succeed, the system fails those poor souls who would rather you had let them die.

It began with my father. His leadership of men was renowned and I followed him into the service of my country. His retirement pension should have been safeguarded by the people he fought to protect – the politicians. It wasn't, and he was financially adrift, like many others. I was serving in Yemen when I heard of his early diagnosis of Dementia. It hit me at the same time as I saved the life of Alex Blake. Since you have spoken with Alex, you will know that he is a fine young man, who was also cut adrift by the administrators at Westminster, more of that later. He was doubly affected by his mother disowning him when she saw him without legs, and therefore the means of supporting her again. He had just lost his father. His uncle came to his rescue, but that was short-lived due to monetary pressure from the Colony over Martha Blake's debt. You know all this. The politicians knew it too, and chose not to interfere. Alex became my first friend to be avenged. I had kept in touch with him but he grew more depressed. Another person, born on the same day had to be walking about untroubled by his situation. It didn't matter who it was – it was quite random. Reginald Powell became the first choice. I was planning for my imminent retirement from military duty. Martha would have to go, but only after I had selected my second sacrificial victim. I won't tell you the name of the young man who was to be avenged, that wouldn't be fair on him. Suffice it to say he has no arms and he lives with that impediment to this day, with little or no support from our elected elite, in terms of his emotional needs. Rory Davenport was born on the wrong day from his point of view. I have to admit some bias here, there were others, but he consistently and vociferously demonstrated against our returning soldiers. His language was almost as vicious as the weapons which tore my patients' lives apart. The worst part about him was that he didn't actually believe in what he was saying – it was a commercial stepping stone, as he had declared ambitions to be a politician. We did not need another one of those. After Martha, I had my eye on Brett Driscoll. His father had served with Alex' father, and shot himself during the conflict. His two sons, who were twins, joined the forces. Like many other young boys, they found no employment and faced gang pressure, so they felt emotional escape by going to legalised war. Kelvin managed to negotiate the hurdles in front of him but Brett deserted. The shame of his father's final act and his brother leaving this way took Kelvin into a very dark place, and he followed his father by taking his own life. I saw his body with most of his head blown off. I didn't have to look far for the same birth date, it was right there – his twin.

The twenty year-old young woman who died was my sister. There was quite an age gap between us, my father said that is what army life is like. I always had to look after her from a young age. I begged her not to follow father and me, but she brushed my advice aside. I heard about her dying on the operating table while I was involved in saving another soldiers arm. Elaine's death was the most difficult experience of my life. Please remember that in my work as a field surgeon I am used to wiping my brow and glancing at a pile of limbs and body-parts which I have just taken from the endless stream of young people serving the needs of the country. This daily pile doesn't even get the attention of similar waste in an abattoir. It can't because the situation does not allow it. Elaine was taken down while gathering intelligence for the High Command. All they could tell me was that it was someone who had defected to help us. Once again, I searched for a birth date match and found a drug addict in much the same frame of mind as Martha Blake – 'screw everyone else, I need a fix'. She seemed as if she had wasted her life, and many people may think she had, so I made sure she had. It was made easier by the discovery that she had, like Martha, left her husband and abandoned a baby. You guessed it, the husband was an amputee who could not come to terms with civilian life again, and needed more than pompous psychiatric diagnosis. You must have wondered about the half-bodies. I will return to them. I am sad to say that when I accompanied my sister's remains home, I kept them in the house until I could quickly replace her body with another, whose name I never knew. She is probably still on the missing persons list and you can find her in my sister's grave. Elaine, my sister, stayed with me through the creation of the Priory corpse, which was a fitting Frankenstein image, of the whole being worse than the sum of the parts. The young woman's torso was the centre of this horrible composition.

The finger, toe, and hand were the closest I could choose, from my deep freeze, to match my sister's appendages, just as the two bodies were accorded appropriate care in fusing them in a post-death embrace. You will have noted they mirror one another in some ways and not others. My sister had a heart big enough in character for two people whereas the other had no heart. They both had images of bullet marks to the chest, as that is how Elaine died, from close range by a trusted ally. It seemed appropriate that the other was terminated in the same way. There would have been more gifts for you but for your discovery of my identity. They were a mixture of those who were deserving of such care and those who did not matter. All of these bodies and parts relate to my list of young people whose lives I saved, yet they could not be saved from the sentence imposed upon them when returning to our 'civilised' society.

This brings me to Radcliffe and Howarth. It is necessary to go back some way. The overt pride which the politicians demonstrate toward our soldiers is overwhelmingly hypocritical. There are many of the population who are fooled by their rhetoric. The welfare is most critical when they return home from action. Even those who aren't physically scarred often find difficulty in re-integration. We seem to live in a society which rewards failure, celebrity, feigned ruined lives by offended individuals, self-inflicted conditions, and those who break the law. This is bad enough, but when we also reward illegal immigrants from the countries we are in conflict with, the fabric of tolerance begins to tear. I am told they all have human rights. However this seems to break down when we come to compensating someone who has given their limbs in service of the government's ill-thought out meddling, in countries where there is something other than morality at stake, such as oil. Soldiers are treated as if they are simply raw materials, and have no human rights, so this is what I mean by hypocrisy – those who are characterised by self-discipline and bravery are not rewarded precisely because they form a part of the silent majority. It has to stop.

Radcliffe was our Culture Guru. Let me list a few definitions from the dictionary.

Philosophy, nation, ethos, values, principles, beliefs, and discernment are but examples.

Howarth was the man knowingly 'protecting' our boys and girls with utterly sub-standard equipment. Another type of Culture is found in the world of the diminutive. Again I offer a selection of definitions.

Multiplying, microbial, and 'organisation by allowing reproduction in predetermined media' are typical.

Our Ministry of defence is staffed by accountants who would have followed Chamberlain, the pied piper, to Berlin. It is a Culture of the second kind – microbial. It is an infected body which now dreams of electronic warfare so that we don't have to get involved with those brave soldiers anymore, because we can conduct the campaign by computers, which don't have 'baggage' when it is over! In the meantime they come to praise them not to betray them. One such disgraceful declaration comes to mind. There is no such thing as Gulf War Syndrome – so prove it!

We have to realise that the armed forces, to politicians, are just part of overall demographics, and that is what dictates deeds, while the rhetoric can remain unchanged.

You have been patient if you have arrived at this point. I will never try to justify warfare; that is why I became a field surgeon. I didn't reflect my father's ideals entirely. However, when we send the youth of our country to fight for causes with which troops find difficulty in absorbing, the least we can do is to provide the best possible equipment, and support for this group of volunteers, whose life expectancy is statistically the shortest of any comparable career sector in the land. It seems fair to ask those in power to explain the seductive advertising they sanction to get the youth of our nation into their cause, and then wash their hands of them, in a way which would not be tolerated by the rest of us. I am also emotionally scarred by my time in service, and therefore do not find difficulty in conceding that I am mentally ill, but I am afraid that in itself does not get the politicians off the hook. So endeth my sermon.

Philip Cranston.'

#  Postscript

Life had to go on. The message was duly posted and it was Frank's last. The internet wouldn't feel quite the same for some people, but it was really up to them to decide if there was any substance to his cause. The contradiction of his chosen path to save lives, and then protest by taking innocent lives, to raise awareness of his concern, was unacceptable to many and yet curiously supported by about the same number. How long would it take for some dogsbody to classify this as just another take on demographics for the ruling elite to digest?

It was the weekend again and Renton invited the team for a 'closure' drink. Stephanie said, "I'll have Bollinger, oh shit, that's just for Angela isn't it."
