 
# No Cause of Death

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

Many thanks to Rob Colvil and Rhys Smith for their excellent contribution in designing the book cover.

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.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © by Hylton Smith 2020

# Chapter 1

September 1999

The foreboding overcast sky was filled with storm-laden angry clouds. A sudden flash of forked lightning was accompanied by barrelling thunder almost immediately. Twelve year old Michael Wood began to wish he'd taken the school bus back home instead of pocketing the fare and walking back. He was already drenched with just under a mile left to walk.

Winfield Bridge had long passed its heyday, way back it had a strong reputation as a sword manufacturing location in the northeast of England. Nestling close to the river and at one end of an old defunct railway track, which had been converted to a country trail for pedestrians, horses and cyclists, it seemed content with now being a desirable rural retreat.

The Red Kite Walk was never too busy at this time of the afternoon and offered a considerable short cut to Michael's house. He was expecting an inquisition as to how he'd got so wet on the bus. As he was desperately trying to figure out a plausible excuse, he heard a rustling sound in a patch of bushes close to the trail, about three metres ahead. He approached the bushes with some trepidation, imagining all kind of explanations, including feral cats which had recently been described in the local newspaper as shambolic, accusing the council of doing nothing about it.

The rustling stopped, Michael parted a clump of ferns in front of the bushes, and leapt back in utter horror. He retreated further, looked up and down the walk but there was nobody in sight. He ran through the mud and lashing rain with thunder rattling in his ears. The lightning was moving east and was now a few seconds ahead of the thunderclaps. He was completely out of breath by the time he hurdled over the low garden fence and banged on the front door.

His mother looked him up and down. "Where the hell have you been? I came to the bus stop with an umbrella to keep you dry. Just look at the mess, get those muddy shoes off and hang your school blazer in the kitchen, it'll have to drip into a bowl before going in the washer."

"Mam, I'm sorry, but you should phone the police. There's a dead man on the Red Kite Walk. He was being eaten by rats. I couldn't chase them away, there were too many. They were eating his face."

"Michael, you've come up with some weird excuses to get you out of trouble but this is the most stupid I've heard. You can tell your lies to your father, he'll be home from work in half an hour or so."

"I'm not lying, mother. Ok, I didn't get the bus, I wanted to save the fare so I can buy some new trainers. I just heard a noise in the bushes. I wish I hadn't gone to see what it was now, he's dead, he's a funny colour and the rats are chewing at him. There was nobody else on the walk or I would have asked them to call the police. I'm not telling lies."

"Alright, alright, calm down. Will you be able to find the spot again?"

"Yes, yes I will, but ring them now or there won't be anything left of him. I can show the police where he is, but they can't get there in a car or motorbike, the walk has barriers to stop them. Hurry up, mother, I think I'm going to be sick."

*

The squad car arrived within twenty-five minutes. Two uniformed officers knocked at the door. The older and obviously senior one spoke first. "We've received instructions to come here because a body has been discovered, are you Mrs Wood?"

"Yes. I am, just a moment, I'll get my husband and son to come and speak with you."

John Wood brought his son to the front door.

"Hello, this is my son Michael, he'll take us to the place where he apparently found the body, but you won't get there in any kind of motor vehicle, as it's on part of the Red Kite Walk. We'll have to go the last quarter of a mile on foot and you're going to need waterproof clothing if this bloody storm doesn't ease off."

"Ok, sir, we have heavy duty rainwear in the car," said the senior officer, "anything else you can tell us?"

"Not really, other than he's sure he disturbed rats chewing at the corpse."

The senior officer told his colleague to collect their hand weapons from the glove compartment as they headed off. Michael didn't fancy seeing the body again but put on a brave face.

He looked around several times to be certain, stood back from the cluster of ferns and then pointed to them. "Over there, at the other side of the walk. He was behind those green plants."

Both officers moved forwards, telling John Woods and his son to stay back. As soon as they parted the ferns, the younger one recoiled, and covered his mouth as his superior told him they'd need masks from the car boot. The rats had continued their consumption of the body, notably the eyes were gone, and the officers could see movement inside the trouser legs.

"Jesus, Thompson, get on the radio to the station, we're going to need CID help with this, tell them it looks like a suspicious death, oh, and they'll need forensics people here pronto. I'll get the masks and a tarpaulin from the spare wheel compartment to protect what's left from these damned rodents."

There was no let-up in the rain so all four of them sheltered under a large tree in a nearby field until CID officers arrived at the scene with forensic assistance and a pathologist. They'd been told to leave their vehicles outside the nearest barrier gate to the walk. If anything, the rain had become heavier, so it was just as well the forensic expert had the presence of mind to bring a zip-up fold away tent in case they had to move the corpse to a dry environment. Jenny Headley left the uniformed officers to erect the tent next to the body while she marked up various other points of interest. Meanwhile, the pathologist cast his eyes over the remains.

Hugh Jefferson was so looking forward to retirement and he couldn't help offering his usual dry sense of humour to the group. "I can't see any obvious wounds or fractures, and he couldn't realistically have got here by vehicular transport, so I'm thinking he probably died right here. If he's had a cardiac arrest, a stroke, or an aneurism somewhere else it would be quite difficult for someone to bring him here. Oh well, as usual I'll have the pleasure of undressing him in splendid isolation back at the pathology lab. Just what I needed before going out with Mrs Jefferson for a curry. Jenny, please let me know as soon as you can when I can take him away. I'll get out of your way for now, I could do with lighting up my pipe in the comfort of my car."

The CID duo led John Wood and Michael away some distance. DCI Robert Kane was nothing if not sceptical, very challenging to work with, and utterly unconcerned over how those in his team regularly protested about working unsocial hours. He was particularly sullen at present because the Edenwell force had first asked Durham police for CID assistance, but had been bounced because the Durham lot pleaded case overload. Kane would lodge his own protest about the Newcastle force being everyone's nanny.

"Alice, take the boy's statement while I have a chat with the father. Now then, Mr Wood, why didn't your son try to flag somebody on this path rather than run all the way home to tell his mother to call the police?"

John Wood didn't warm to this line of questioning.

"Inspector, I have..."

"Detective Chief Inspector. Sorry, carry on."

"I can't imagine what the poor lad felt like when he saw this horror. He said there wasn't anyone else in sight in either direction, he was scared shitless and ran home as soon as he could. So, what's the problem?"

"No problem other than trying to preserve more of the body from the rodent fest. But I take your point, he's just a young lad. I'd have thought this trail was normally well used by all manner of people at this time of day, but I suppose the foul weather must have put people off. I'm always thinking as an officer of the law, please forgive me. No offence intended. I just wondered whether other kids would go home from school along this walk."

"Not as far as I know, there's always a bus waiting for them when school is over. Anyway, we've lectured Michael time and again that this walk isn't safe for young kids to be on their own. Do you think there's something suspicious about this?"

"Well, that would be speculating, it's more likely to be a missing person, but even if that is the case, we need to know the cause of death. Your boy did the right thing. All I want to ask you is to call me if and when he remembers more detail. It's often a few days after a trauma like this that young people recall small details of interest. I'm intrigued by him being drawn to where he found the body by this rustling noise. Maybe his recall will become more specific later. Of course if there are no signs of foul play, it will be of no importance. So, once Detective Sergeant Baxter has his statement you should take Michael home. Thank you for your help, Mr Wood."

*

Back at the station, Jenny Headley was testing several samples of flora she'd collected at Winfield Bridge, together with a handful of skin tissue extracts from places where there was no evidence of rodent bite marks. As yet she had no information to suggest interaction with another person.

In contrast, Hugh Jefferson declared that he couldn't find any evidence of underlying health concerns in the victim. "He was between thirty and forty-five years old and in excellent condition, apart from being eaten of course. There are no indications of being attacked by another person, notwithstanding that the rats may have destroyed such evidence. He just seems to have died. Of exactly what, will only be revealed in good time."

Robert Kane was never satisfied with such a broad brush conclusion. "What about drugs?"

"I don't believe so, but as I said, at present he's a mystery. The autopsy should tell us if you'd just let me get on with that task. His highly discoloured skin leads me to believe that he may have reacted to some allergen or another. I'll have to do a full toxicology trawl now. There may be internal evidence I've missed in my initial examination and that may reveal more scientific evidence. I hear there was nothing on the body in the way of identification."

"Yes..., sorry, I mean yes there wasn't any ID of any kind. We're busy running missing persons, so that might throw up a clue. However, Hugh, you haven't mentioned time of death. Surely someone should have found him before the rats moved in?"

Hugh Jefferson stroked his chin and smiled. "I was waiting to see if you were going to get to that. I'm missing a lot of body parts which could have helped me out. However, along his back the natural decomposition has proceeded without the hungry rat involvement. I'd say he hasn't been deceased for more than seventy-two hours. Also, I found some contaminant which was stuck under his belt. I passed this to Jenny and she just called me to say it definitely wasn't from that Winfield Bridge site. She's busy with finding out more, but she thinks it implies he may not have died there. It is also consistent with drag marks under his belt. Maybe she's correct."

"Ok, Hugh, I'll go and see Jenny now. There's something else I wanted to ask her. I'll get back to you when you've got the toxicology results."

*

When Kane entered Jenny's office he detected nervousness as she shuffled papers around her desk, seemingly trying to hide something.

"Hugh tells me there was some contaminating stuff under the dead guy's belt."

"Yes, I was just about to come and see you about that."

She closed the door and invited him to sit.

"I don't really know how to approach this, I'm going to do more tests, so I'll hopefully find I'm wrong."

"Wrong about what, Jenny? Come on, what's bothering you? Is there a problem with this contaminant stuff?"

"No, no, I wish that's all it was. Look, I need to repeat my tests and then I can be sure there's no mistake. I'll do it now and speak to you this afternoon."

"Fine. I have to speak with Alice Baxter anyway. We need to check out missing persons in the region as a starting point. Call me when you're ready."

# Chapter 2

Located in the city centre, the police station was a typical example of the flamboyant architectural style during the industrial revolution. Robert Kane looked around the open office area. Everywhere he saw contrasts with the exterior's former grandeur. Functionally drab furniture and subsequent neglect, ingrained dirt, a patchwork of decay. The same dilapidation was infecting the people working there. Evidence of an exquisite veneer under attack from organisational chaos. Sombre décor, broken venetian blinds, scratched wooden floors, desks at obtuse angles to one another, and a snow covering of paperwork next to each person. Worst of all, he knew there was no appetite for change. Nevertheless, the self-reinforcing nature of such apathy attracted more cases from rural forces to the straining city workload, concurrent with his team diminishing in personnel. This latest case being typical.

"What have we got so far, Alice?"

"Nothing in the northeast in that male age group, sir, and that's going back three months."

Kane reacted by suggesting she should expand the radius and run through the database again.

"How far out do you want to go? There's nothing logged in the whole of Northumberland, Durham and Yorkshire. If the pathologist still doesn't know for sure, he might well have died where he was found. Looking further afield is a hell of a lot of work, and maybe we should be concentrating on the cause of death for now."

"I don't like the word 'might', Alice. Hugh has to do more tests, including a full toxicology check. We have nothing else to go on, so let's just do the spadework in preparation for elimination of impossible scenarios. If nothing flags up possibilities in the whole country we'll have to move on to another case. It's all about efficiency these days, Alice. Why don't you get young DC Weaver to do the trawl, or don't you trust him?"

"He is a bit wet behind the ears, guv. I can get him to do it but I'd want to look over his shoulder. He's still a work in progress."

Kane leaned over and whispered, "True, but he needs to get off his arse instead of pretending to be busy. Should I go and see what he's doing?"

"Point taken, I'll get on it."

Kane was just about to reply when Jenny appeared.

"I need to show you something DCI Kane."

"Very formal are we? Let's go to my office."

He opened the window to allow some of the heat to disperse, then picked up a wedge of paperwork and files, and dumped them on the floor. "There we go, plenty of space now."

Jenny cleared her throat. "I want to say that I have discussed the case again with Hugh, and shown him my test results before coming to you. He deserved the opportunity to challenge my findings, in other words..."

"Get on with it, Jenny, I hear where you're coming from and that's fine. So?"

"Right. When we were at the scene in Winfield Bridge I took all kinds of objects for evaluation, and placed them in a cooler box to have them protected from the heat wave we're experiencing at the moment. When Hugh said he couldn't do the same for the corpse I tried to explain that objects in the victim's pockets were stuck together with ice. He didn't seem to respond well. Anyway, even when I got back to the lab some of these objects were still stuck together. I have to consider that the body could have been in a freezer prior to being deposited at Winfield Bridge. When I suggested this could have influence on estimated time of death he basically told me to back off. I ran some tests of my own and this annoyed him even more, but I'm confident the time of death he gave you may be unreliable. I can't visualise the body having been placed there any longer than two hours before it was found, because the ice would have melted quite quickly in this heat. Perhaps you should speak with Hugh yourself."

"Shit. I must admit I did feel uneasy about his estimate of the time of death being not more than seventy-two hours. What you're suggesting is more in line with his death being shortly before the boy found him. I had doubts because if that path had so many users during a dry day he'd have been found almost immediately. I mean, it wasn't exactly well hidden. It could also fit with the kid hearing a rustling in the bushes before he actually saw the corpse. There could have been somebody else retreating from the bushes. Look, we'll have to have this out with Hugh, unpleasant as it might be, we can't ignore evidence no matter who it might embarrass. And, we don't really have much evidence at all, so whatever we do have has to be respected. Let's give Hugh time to do his toxicology report and then tackle him about your concern."

"Fine. But you misunderstood my reasoning. He could indeed have died shortly before Michael found him, or more likely quite a long time ago, and stored in a freezer. Seventy-two hours is nothing more than guesswork. I just wish he could explain why my samples were frozen solid in the middle of a hot spell. There may be another explanation, but we must have one which makes sense."

*

Alice Baxter finally got rookie DC David Weaver to understand what she wanted, and was pleasantly surprised that he then worked so quickly. He was certainly more tech savvy than her, it was at least a starting point. There were seventeen missing person reports across the entire UK in the space of the last month. In three months the number was over one hundred. Once he'd subtracted ones subsequently reported solved the totals were twelve and sixty-four in time periods of one and three months respectively. Overlaying the age and gender criteria dropped those numbers to two and twenty-one.

They reported this together and Kane was philosophical.

"Where are they located?"

Alice allowed Weaver to enlighten the boss.

"The twenty-one are heavily skewed toward London with nine. The non-capital incidents are, two in Glasgow, three in Greater Manchester, two in Birmingham, one in Leicester, one in Sheffield, one in Hull, one in Southampton, and one in Bristol. I should say, sir, that many of these are of ethnic minorities and when they are eliminated, as I understand the corpse was white Caucasian, the ones of interest falls to seven. My reading of this is that it's not a reliable source of data in this particular case of ours. I've highlighted the ones which may offer some hope if indeed the victim was from somewhere outside the northeast."

"Ok," replied Kane, "leave the analysis with me. Alice, I want you to join me with Jenny and our pathologist tomorrow morning."

"Fine, see you then, boss, I'm off home now." She felt vindicated in claiming it had been a waste of time, but was impressed with Weaver's efficiency.

*

DS Alice Baxter felt awkward. The atmosphere was frosty even though not a word had been spoken as Kane finally arrived. "Sorry I'm bit late folks, the inner clique have been pestering me for updates. I'm sure my response will rule me out of joining their cosy ranks any time soon. Now then, I know we have a bit of disagreement swilling around but we're all on the same team, so I want to hear both of your takes on where we go from here, even if it isn't what you thought previously. I have to confess that I've had a bad feeling about this case from day one. It has a raggedness about it. I'm sure we'll keep shaping our investigation to fit the actual evidence we're all happy to endorse. Right, Hugh, do you want to go first?"

The pathologist seemed calmer than Jenny Headley.

"I have the toxicology report now but I think it might be better to deal with the elephant in the room first." He checked the body signals of the others, who nodded their agreement.

"As my estimate of time of death has come under scrutiny I remind you that I examined him at the lab, which was around three hours after the boy found the body. Since then, Jenny has brought to my attention her observation that some of her samples taken from the scene were stuck together with ice. And I'm told the flora I discovered under his belt were not from the scene. Therefore, I'm happy to concede that this man died in some other location. I'm also prepared to entertain the notion that the exposed parts of his body may have had ice deposits which melted in the direct sunlight, and those in shaded cover were yet to turn to liquid. I'm even willing to countenance that the corpse may have spent some period of time in a sub-zero storage environment, but that is subject to proof being obtained. So, to summarise, if his life was terminated in an unknown location, either by natural causes or at the hands of another person, he must have been moved to Winfield Bridge. My estimate of not **more** than seventy-two hours still seems valid, based upon all of the tests I performed. However, I have always stressed that many factors can affect what can only ever be an estimate rather than a precise period of time. I wouldn't be surprised if other evidence emerges to warrant an adjustment of what I reported, but it has to be based upon more compelling evidence than I've been given so far."

Kane looked at Jenny questioningly.

"That's a very balanced view, Hugh. All I tried to say when I told you about the ice was that the body must have been moved after death. This could easily alter some of my own leanings if we're sure that it was. Let's start again from there and see how what else we find shapes the puzzle."

Kane intervened while there was restrained peace in the camp. "I think we're all working in a little bit of a blind alley at present. So, unless we find contradictory proof, we're all happy with the new baseline being that the death is suspicious and occurred somewhere other than where it was found. Until such proof emerges we cannot completely rule out that it could still have occurred in Winfield Bridge. He could have died there after picking up flora from somewhere else. The ice is a powerful clue, we need to maintain an open mind"

He was about to ask Hugh if he'd continue with details of the toxicology report when the phone rang.

"It's John Wood here, Michael's father. You were right, he seems to remember more about the incident."

"Yes, it happens frequently. I think the memory suffers from that kind of shock, sometimes for long periods."

"Well, I have to say I'm not absolutely sure what he's been saying actually happened because he's having nightmares."

"I see, never mind, I'd like to hear what he said."

"He insists that he only went to the bushes because he heard some strange sound, as if an animal was in a scuffle with something. He also says the bushes were moving but the ferns in front of them were quite still. He's sure that whatever was moving the bushes stopped for a few seconds, and when he approached the ferns the bushes started to move more than before. He can't be sure, because he never saw any animal, but he imagined it was quite large because of the number of bigger bushes that started waving about. I'm sorry, but I can't make a lot of sense of this as he keeps getting overexcited. That's why he might just be imagining stuff or seeing it in his nightmares."

"Don't worry about it Mr Wood, it makes some sense to me. Call me again if Michael would be happy to come and speak to me at the station."

"Are you sure? I'd like him to forget all about it."

"Only if he's happy talking to me. I'll leave it up to you."

When Kane relayed this to Alice Baxter, Hugh and Jenny, Mr Wood's information helped to cement the assertion that the victim was _probably_ placed at the site post mortem. It also raised the question again of whether the location was chosen because the body would be found relatively quickly. Maybe the person responsible actually wanted it to be found rather than hidden, while not being seen themselves.

"Ok," grumbled Kane, "let's have that toxicology report, Hugh, then it's back to the grind, folks. I don't think you need to stay for this Alice. Can you begin chasing up DC Weaver's seven missing persons who fit the criteria, but who are from outside the northeast? Thanks."

"Sure, I suppose that means you still aren't convinced it's a waste of his time?"

"Correct. We've just heard Hugh acknowledging that new findings altered our thinking about where this guy died. Just indulge me on this."

# Chapter 3

Hugh began his toxicology report with a couple of caveats, much to the annoyance of DCI Kane. "We need to recognise the limitations imposed by the degradation of the body when considering expectations. Much of the skin was unavailable and the same applies to certain organs. Firstly, it has proved impossible to locate any marks which would have indicated possible drug use by injection. The same applies to diabetic requirement of insulin. I mention this, DCI Kane, because you asked about it specifically. So, when testing for orally administered drugs, I found nothing. In other tissue tests from various regions of the body there is confusion. During an autopsy, a pathologist collects samples of blood, various tissues and, if present, urine. Usually, pathologists collect blood from multiple areas of the body. We draw blood typically from a peripheral source, like the femoral vein. Sadly, there was no urine available. The rats must have consumed the femoral vein and the entire haul of tissue showed no signs of drug content. The second investigative trawl was for actual toxins – poisonous compounds such as arsenic, mercuric salts, and the like. Again no evidence was found. Now I stress that this doesn't mean that the victim definitely didn't have either conventional drugs or poisonous substances in his body, just that I could not verify that he did. This is not an excuse, it is simply a fact that over fifty-five percent of the corpse was missing despite him having died so recently."

"So, you're basically telling me you have no evidence which can take us forward?"

"I'm afraid so, but I'd like to hear what Jenny has found out about the contaminant I gave her. Maybe that will tell us something."

Kane nodded to Jenny.

"I haven't had a chance to get forensic chemical analysis yet but it was present on the flora samples as well as his lower back. The flora weren't from the Winfield Bridge site. That is a fact. Under the microscope it appeared to be attached to skin and some of the flora. I interpreted this as consistent with being dragged on his back through plant matter after the substance was either secreted from his body or deposited there. I should have more results pretty soon."

Kane's frustration began to surface again, but before he could articulate it, Hugh piped up.

"I retained some of the contaminant myself, and I can take a look at it, as I have nothing else to work on with this case."

"Come on, guys, shake a leg. All I'm hearing is we have a healthy, thirty to forty-five year old, who doesn't take drugs but died a few days ago after being kept in cold storage; then he was carted off to a place where he was bound to be discovered. Well, he was discovered and we have no idea who dumped him there, is there any second person DNA available to give us a clue?"

Jenny and Hugh glanced at each other and shook their heads. Jenny offered what sounded like an excuse. "Not really, I left a report on your desk yesterday to confirm that the clothing and skin samples available illustrated cleansing fluid presence. Effectively, the rats, insects and this fluid have literally 'bleached' our investigation canvass. Would you agree, Hugh?"

"I do. I believe it strongly indicates his life was taken by someone who has meticulously planned how, where, and when this would happen, and may well be conversant with our procedural methods. Just a theory, DCI Kane, but give me some time to analyse this 'contaminant' because we don't know that it wasn't deliberately applied to the victim on other parts of his body which we don't have."

"Right," mumbled Kane, "I'm going to inform the Super that it looks like a homicide. And you both know what that means, the bloody press will descend on to our shoulders. Just what we need."

*

Kane was on the prowl. "DS Baxter, did you run DNA on the database to see if our corpse had a match?"

"Yes, boss, but as you might have guessed, we drew a blank. So, at least we know that 'Winfield Bridge Man' didn't have a criminal record."

"It was a long shot, so I suppose we should get used to him not being from Winfield Bridge, nobody missing him, nobody manhandling him, no sign of a struggle and nothing to identify him. Perhaps someone put a curse on him and didn't need to harm him physically. The Super is going to love this."

Alice Baxter had seen this routine many times, it usually preceded a blitz of tasks lacking in justification, counting how many fairies can alight on to the head of a pin. "Something will turn up, guv. What's going to happen to the remains, well you know, what there is of him?"

"I don't know, Alice. I can't see what else we can learn from the remnants and we have to consider infection risk from those damned rodents. My guess is that it will become a health and safety decision. What did you make of all that posturing by Jenny and Hugh Jefferson?"

"You don't really want my opinion on that. I didn't utter a word while I was in attendance because neither of them come across as having much motivation or creativity. It's like this poor sod's death dragged them away from something important, and into that colossal thunderstorm; they got drenched, and it ruined their plans for the evening. Come on, you did ask."

"Yeah, I more or less go along with that. He died, and there's no obvious underlying cause. So what, it happens. Anyway, what about Weaver's list?"

"Not much joy there either, boss. The cases are still open – just, but they're definitely on the back burner. The one thing they all have in contrast to our man is traceable parents or relatives who reported them missing and keep asking questions about progress. To me, it's a dead end. We should go back to where the guy was found and take a really good look around. Treat it as a proper crime scene. Better than chasing shadows in here. I'd like to talk to young Michael Wood again and interview other users of that stretch of the walk. Standard police work. I still find it hard to believe nobody saw the person who managed to get the body there, unless it was done at night."

Kane wasn't enthusiastic but she had a point. "Ok, we might as well take Weaver, it'll give us a chance to see how he approaches searching for witnesses. Let's go."

*

The three of them stood by the barrier closest to where the body was found. Kane set out how they would interview persons of interest. "This is going to be tedious because the local paper ran the story yesterday, so all of the punters we chat with will know what was said by the journalist. Everybody and their grandmother will have an opinion about what happened and what the police should be looking into. Most of all we have to weed out fantasists who saw nothing but claim they did. So, we work as a team. One of us asks the questions, another notes the replies and the third keeps track of only the genuine witnesses. We should rotate the tasks between us every ten minutes so we can all build up the same picture. That's important, especially if we do find something we can follow up. Right, I'll begin with questions, Alice, you make notes and Weaver lists any candidates we want to speak with again, taking down their names, addresses etc. Got it?"

Alice and Weaver nodded their affirmation. It didn't go too well. Over fifty people were asked to spare a few minutes for an informal chat, but less than twenty agreed, perhaps fearing any kind of conversation with the police. From the remainder, most were vague about detail or hadn't used the walk that particular day. And then there were those who simply ran off at the mouth, pretty much quoting the local newspaper. They stuck at it and finally Weaver questioned a man who seemed totally genuine.

"Yes, I never really thought much about it at the time, but I walk my dog along here every day. I often pass council workers who do repairs and general tidy ups to the walk. They are the only ones allowed to bring vehicles along the track. It was only when I read the paper the next day that it struck me as strange. He was wearing a boiler suit like all the council workers, and as he came toward me he turned off the track into the wooded verge. When I reached the bridge, that's my turning point, I thought it was strange that I hadn't passed his van. And I'm pretty sure it wasn't left by the barrier where I entered the walk. They always park their vans at the spot where they work, so they don't have to go far for the tools they need, and my dog barks at them when we pass. On my way back I didn't pass him so I just assumed he'd crossed a couple of fields to get back to his van, which might have been parked beyond the bridge. You see, the track curves and this would be a short cut if he was just doing an inspection. When I read about the body being found it reminded me that the man in the boiler suit seemed to react when he saw me and immediately turned off the track."

Weaver posed another question. "Did you pass many other people during that time?"

"Yes, cyclists, some regulars walking their dogs, and lots of runners. People as stupid as myself, knowing the weather forecast that day."

"What about a school boy wearing his uniform?"

"No, I read about that in the paper, but he must have been there after I passed the barrier on my way out."

"Would you know what time that was, sir?"

"Well, let me think. I got home just before four o'clock and my house is fifteen minutes or so from the barrier, so I must have left the walk at around quarter to four. If you remember, it was raining heavily that afternoon and I was worried about the lightning in a wooded area, so I was glad to get off the walk. I had my North Face waterproof on, and later I wondered why the council worker didn't have any rainwear on. Anyway, I definitely don't remember a boy in school uniform on the walk, unless he was also wearing an overcoat of some kind, but I wouldn't have thought a kid would have chanced it in that thunderstorm."

"Thank you Mr Sadler, I have your address, and we may need to speak with you again."

Kane decided they weren't going to find a more promising witness and called a halt to the exercise. "We need to get along to the council offices and check which workers were on the walk that afternoon, and whether they had taken a van on to the track. Good work, Weaver."

*

They drove the few miles to Blackford and pulled into the council car park. Kane suggested they leave the initial talking to him. At reception they encountered an officious looking woman so Kane flashed his warrant card.

"DCI Kane, DS Baxter, and DC Weaver, I'd like a word with the boss man."

"The leader of the council is in sessions, I can't see an arranged appointment. I can make one for you, let me see..."

Alice Baxter was having difficulty stifling her amusement. Weaver stared at the ceiling. "Look, we're investigating a suspicious death in Winfield Bridge, I'm sure you've heard about it. I need to speak with his nibs, right now. If you want to do this the hard way your boss may not welcome liveried police vehicles and press hounds outside your grand entrance. Please yourself."

The receptionist put on her friendly face and without another word called the council leader's secretary, who appeared at the top of the ostentatious staircase in less than thirty seconds. She beckoned them to follow her, led them to a large and ornate meeting room, and said the man himself would be with them as soon as possible.

"Would any of you like a drink in the meantime?"

"No thank you," snapped Kane, "time is of the essence, we won't take up much of your leader's time once he gets here. Very nice décor, I'm impressed."

# Chapter 4

The council chief executive blended well with the surroundings. Clean cut, minimalist in stature yet exuding an air of self-importance.

"Good afternoon, I'm Leonard Moorcroft, and you are?"

Kane said nothing, plonked his warrant card on the table and pushed it in front of Moorcroft.

"I see, but you're not from the Blackford division, this is Edenwell Council, we normally liaise with the station along the road to the left as you exit the building."

"Let me introduce DS Baxter and DC Weaver, we're from Newcastle CID. Neither Blackford nor Edenwell have a specialised CID unit. I thought you might know that, since the two uniformed officers who attended the incident in Winfield Bridge were from Edenwell."

"Oh yes, that awful death on the Red Kite Walk."

Kane was beginning to see the red mist. "Yes, the incident that has become a suspicious death. Am I right in thinking this council is responsible for the Red Kite Walk?"

"Yes, at least part of it. The easterly section from Swalwell to Lintzford is under Gateshead Council jurisdiction. We look after the stretch from Lintzford to Winfield Bridge. So, how can I help?"

"By telling us who was on duty on the walk on the day of the incident and whether they had the use of one of your maintenance vehicles."

"Right, I'll ask our parks manager to check this out for you. He should be about the building somewhere."

"It doesn't matter who gives us the information, we just wanted to do you the courtesy of authorising this. As long as you agree to that I don't care if it's Mickey Mouse who shows us the work sheets. We are in a bit of a hurry, just phone someone to provide this information."

"Fine, I'll get my secretary to chase this up."

"We need this done now, like right now, not through a delegation process. Some poor bugger died and one of your people was in the vicinity. Time is our enemy. Is that clear enough?"

"Of course."

Moorcroft picked up the conference room phone extension and contacted the reception desk. "Marion, the police officers are on their way to you. Please get someone in the engineering office to provide last week's schedules for the Winfield Bridge section at reception. This is apparently extremely urgent."

"Thank you Mr Moorcroft, hopefully we won't have to trouble you again."

*

A bearded employee armed with reams of paperwork sat next to Kane in reception and introduced himself as the deputy engineering and maintenance manager. He presented evidence that there were no council employees working in Winfield Bridge on the day of the incident.

"It was considered unsafe to deploy personnel that day because of the weather. Using chainsaws and other heavy duty gear in poor visibility isn't allowed."

"I'll need a copy of that sheet please. So, were your staff deployed in other locations that day, you know, where there was no deluge or electromagnetic storms?"

"Only two units. One near Lanchester, which is many miles in the opposite direction to Winfield Bridge, and the other in the remote village of Greencroft. That location is at altitude and missed the storm somehow. Both crews were working all day at their particular location."

"So, there were none of your vehicles at the incident site on the Red Kite Walk?"

"Definitely not."

"Well thanks for your time, so if you can give me copies of what you just told me we'll get out of your hair."

"No problem, I can copy them here in reception."

*

When they got back to the car, Alice was downbeat.

"Bit disappointing, I was sure we'd get a lead from them."

Weaver chirped in. "Maybe it's not so bad. At least we know whoever Mr Sadler saw wasn't a council worker, and there was no council van on the walk that day. We have only one person to track down and no arse-covering alibis to confuse the picture, such as the maintenance team's loyalty to one another."

Kane ventured no opinion for some time, then agreed with Weaver. "Yes, a quagmire of buddies looking out for each other is something we need to avoid like the plague. Somebody else must have seen the man Sadler clocked behaving suspiciously, we just have to find them. Let's get back to the station, I've just missed a call from Jenny. We can send some of our own uniform boys to speak to more punters who regularly use the walk."

"Sir," said Alice, "I think we should also ask uniform to check out the two fields Mr Sadler said the boiler suit guy must have evaporated to, you never know, he might have left trace evidence of some kind."

"Good idea, Alice. Arrange it when we get back."

*

Kane gathered his thoughts in his office for a few minutes before calling Jenny. She arrived with a handful of printouts.

"Well, Jenny, tell me you're the bearer of good news."

"That depends on what you consider to be good news. I have analysis of that substance Hugh referred to as a contaminant. I showed him these printouts and at least we're agreed on our interpretation."

"That in itself is good news, but I need something to crack open this guy's cause of death."

"Well, this might give us a clue. The analyst I sent the sample to claims that he ran the tests multiple times and the result is undeniable. There were neurotoxins present in ninety-eight percent of the samples. So, it's highly unlikely that he died of natural causes."

"That's quite a big step forward then?"

"In a way, but we need more specific information on precisely which neurotoxins are present, or more to the point where they came from."

"You've lost me, completely."

"Ok, there are as many as a thousand individual types of them falling into this class of chemicals. They are present in many foods, very small quantities in some medications, and quite common in the venom of a wide range of creatures. Unfortunately, there wasn't sufficient concentration in the samples Hugh gave me for elimination tests to narrow down the field. And that applies to the sample Hugh retained for himself. It does raise another question as well. Because this stuff was present in both the skin itself and subcutaneous tissue we have to consider how long it has been there. It's generally accepted that it can take between three and six months for the human body to cleanse itself of the most potent types. In short, we now have pretty strong evidence that this man was helped on his way rather than succumbing to some regular organ failure such as the brain, heart, lungs, liver, alimentary system, kidneys, or blood disease."

"If I read you right then, it also implies, but no more than that, someone or something played a part in his demise. If that's the case, and we put it together with a witness statement we got from Sadler, there is gathering evidence that points to 'assisted' homicide. Thanks, Jenny, we've now got to intensify effort to trace someone who was seen disappearing into the woods close to where the body was found."

"Sorry that it isn't as conclusive as we'd hoped for. If only we had recovered more of the organs we could have been much more specific."

"That's life, Jenny. Say thanks to Hugh for me. I've had enough for one day."

*

Robert Kane was married to the job. He'd also previously been married to Katherine and enjoyed a family life with his daughter. Despite frequent reassurances that he would remodel his division of time between the family and work, he just couldn't deliver the goods. Katherine likened his obsession with the job to cheating with another woman. The split hurt him badly, even though in absolute terms he saw his daughter more than when they all lived together. He still harboured hope of a reconciliation one day, perhaps when his little girl passed through adolescence. His home was now in the city centre. Much of his free time was spent at various hostelries, where now and again he picked up indiscretions in the conversations of others, from villains to football fans. Unlike country pubs, where villagers all knew one another, these were impersonal gathering sites for a much wider spectrum of the species. On this particular evening he chose culinary quality over alcoholic delight. A Greek platter of moussaka and half a bottle of house plonk seemed about right. Although it did the trick consumption-wise, it failed to dull the ache of such slow progress in a case in which he'd initially expressed little interest. It had reeled him in gently. Now there was no denying he was well and truly hooked.

It wasn't simply that the puzzle was there and had to be solved. He was in some ways at odds with the profession he'd chosen. And that at least partially pivoted around what he considered to be shifting morality of the upper command. He would never accept promotion from the front line. Strangely, if that were to be offered, unlikely though it might be, it would trigger his departure from the force. Something which Katherine failed to achieve. Observing the savagery inflicted by certain convicted killers, only to see them paroled when serving only half of their sentence, appalled him. His inability to understand obsession with **why** some maniac would kill a child was beyond his comprehension. It happened and the only thing that mattered was ensuring justice was served. He felt that the abolition of the death penalty in every circumstance had unleashed a nauseating moral crusade which declared it as barbaric. He couldn't reconcile sentencing lethal injection of a perpetrator being barbaric, when the premeditated torture and crushing of a child's skull was apparently not. Needless to say, this had put an automatic cap on the prospect of him rising up the ranks, or as he perceived them, ivory towers.

The image of the half rat-eaten corpse potentially qualified for inclusion into his 'human to human' savagery catalogue. It even caused him to think about this case becoming the watershed which would allow him to get through a 'cold turkey' phase and quit the job altogether. Instead of a vocation of making a difference, he was trapped in a hamster wheel of indifference and dreaded political correctness. He felt pretty relaxed being a dinosaur.

The additional pint of lager on top of the wine was enough to enable a slow drift into the world of alternative reality.

*

Kane sat in his office unconsciously twiddling his favourite pen while trying to figure out how he was going to maintain the current resource on the case. It was a breezy morning and the window was creaking as it flapped rhythmically against the frame. He wearily closed it, preferring the stifling atmosphere than metronomic distraction. His train of thought was abruptly wiped as DC Weaver walked in without knocking on the door. The status quo was going to take a sharp right-angled turn.

"Err, 'scuse me, sir. I've just been handed this by the desk sergeant."

"What? More damned forms to fill in?"

"No, a new missing person report. I just put it on my desk while booting up my computer system, then when I read it through properly I realised it does fit with the Winfield Bridge incident. The guy is thirty-two, lives in that location and was supposed to be away on a business trip. His wife reported it, having expected him to return two days ago."

"Well, well. Is she still downstairs?"

"No, she just reported it and left apparently, should I bring her in again?"

"I'd rather go to her home. Tell Alice you're coming with me."

*

The house was in the village outskirts, set on the banks of the River Dane. It was an exclusive development of a dozen individually designed properties on generous riverbank plots. Obviously inhabited by well-heeled occupants.

# Chapter 5

As he and Weaver were leaving, Kane had asked Alice to check up on any progress uniform had made with finding witnesses other than Mr Sadler. She was told that there were only two more with reasonable credibility from one hundred and forty-nine interviews. She jumped into her car and headed to Winfield Bridge.

Meanwhile, Kane and Weaver stood outside the address on the missing person report for almost an hour before the occupant arrived. "Mrs Hadley?"

"Yes."

"DCI Kane and DC Weaver. Could you spare a couple of minutes? We'd like to run through a few detailed questions regarding your husband's business trip. Would that be convenient right now?"

"Well, I suppose...I didn't expect such a quick response. Of course, come in."

Lorraine Hadley didn't seem to be suffering serious stress. She excused herself to use the bathroom, taking over five minutes to reappear. The house reeked of expense, floor to ceiling windows, marble tiles everywhere, and lots of signed original paintings.

Kane wanted to remain in observation mode for now, following the tenet that all the time you're talking you're not learning anything. "Can you quickly run through the time leading up to your husband's departure and when you decided to report him as missing? Any small details could help us, so DC Weaver will take notes."

"Oh, I see, I thought you might have specific questions for me."

"I surely will, but I want to hear everything you can remember since err... Gary...err..."

"Greg, his name is Greg, it's on the report."

"Of course, please excuse me," said Kane, feigning being a bit of a dipstick, "just take your time."

"Very well, I suppose I should say these trips are quite common, Greg is national sales director in a multinational corporation. They operate in the carbon friendly energy industry."

She paused and then remembered Kane wanted her to recant the whole story without interruption. "So, he often travels up to three times per week. We have never managed to spend a lot of time together since his promotion. Anyway, the latest trip was to London for a week long annual strategic meeting. It was tagged on to a customer visit in Portsmouth. He left here eight days ago. He phoned me when he left Portsmouth and headed on to London. I never really hear from him during these strategic meetings, in fact he started calling them the 'bunkers' or 'lock-ins'. Quite often, he arrives home a day late and sometimes he calls to tell me that. This time was different and he called me every day until the strategic meeting ended, saying the final session had taken much longer than in previous years. I asked if he was worried about something, as the sales results had underperformed recently. He said not, but I could feel something was bothering him. Now, I don't want to seem indiscreet but we've never exactly been your average married couple. I don't want to expand on that if you don't mind, suffice it to say we're open-minded about the company we keep, mostly because we see so little of one another. I also have a career which takes me around the country. We never treat our individual plans as if they're set in stone. I probably wouldn't have reported this if I wasn't so convinced Greg was extremely nervous every day he called me. That's about all I can tell you."

Kane and Weaver exchanged glances as she offered them a coffee or something stronger. Kane decided to accept.

"Thanks, Mrs Hadley, I'd love a coffee."

"And what about you Mr...?"

"Weaver, DC Weaver. Same for me, a coffee please"

"Oh yes, I'm afraid I am utterly hopeless with names. I'll bring cream and sugar to take yourselves."

Lorraine Hadley had certainly made an impression, she was obviously from a different planet. Had she really described the man who'd been dumped on the walk? Kane and Weaver agreed to have their coffee and ask a couple of questions then depart.

"So, did your husband have any particular distinguishing feature we could work with?" said Weaver, "and a recent photograph would help."

"He has a long scar in one of his thighs, a rugby injury I believe. Oh, and he has another prominent scar on his left shoulder where a suspected malignant mole was removed, quite a small scar actually, triangular shaped."

"That could be very helpful," lied Kane, "did he travel by train or did he fly, you know, so we can check for unused tickets and..."

"God, no, never. He virtually lives in his Aston Martin, even though it's a ridiculous fuel-devouring sports car with only two uncomfortable seats."

"Now that could really be useful," said Weaver, "do you have the registration number?"

"It's on one of the photos he insisted I took when he bought it. You can take it with you but it must be returned."

The two of them backed away toward the door, assuring Mrs Hadley that they'd set up a few lines of enquiry and she'd hear from them if any information was forthcoming. She waved them goodbye and they set off to the Red Kite Walk once more, because Kane had received a message from Alice saying something interesting had turned up.

"Jesus," said Kane, "what did you make of that?"

Weaver began giggling uncontrollably. "I think Greg Hadley has probably pissed off with some woman and won't be coming back."

"Or he's crashed his fuel-devouring Aston Martin. The pity is we'll have to respond to her in some way, and you're just the man for that job."

*

Alice marched them directly to the two fields which Mr Sadler had said the boiler-suited man probably retreated to when turning off the walk abruptly.

"The guys are almost finished now, the grass in the second field isn't quite so deep. Anyway, you might want to speak to the two witnesses the uniform squad said made interesting statements. I asked them to wait at the point where they claim to have seen what sounds like the same person Mr Sadler described."

"How far is it, Alice? That coffee we had at Lorraine Hadley's house is going right through me, I need to pee."

"Ok, come on Weaver, we'll leave him to it, he can catch us up."

Kane was a little out of breath when he joined them again. "I couldn't find a secluded spot, but when nature calls you just have to do what's necessary."

"Too much information, boss. Look, there they are up ahead, not far from the bridge Sadler mentioned."

"Cyclists," said Weaver, "what would they be able to see if they were riding bikes? The track is pretty bumpy here."

"Patience, David, you'll see when we get there."

Alice introduced her colleagues to the cyclists who were sitting on a bench which had a perfect view of the two fields. "Apparently, you stop here every time you ride this particular route?" said Alice.

"We do," remarked the female, "usually for an energy bar and a drink to ensure we're hydrated for the return trip."

Alice turned to the other rider. "Can you repeat what you told me to DCI Kane, Mr Jackson?"

"What, again? I've already told one of the officers searching the field and yourself, it's becoming tedious. Why can't you tell him? We don't have all day and I need to get back home before..."

Kane intervened. "It's my fault, Mr Jackson. As the senior investigating officer, I should have been here earlier instead of a wild goose chase with another case. I'd appreciate it very much if I can hear it from the horse's mouth so to speak. I don't want to miss something which turns out to be important."

"Oh, Walter, stop being so cantankerous," complained Mrs Jackson, "the police are just trying to do their job. I'll tell him myself. So, Inspector, we were sitting here that afternoon taking a break when the awful thunderstorm started. We gathered our bits and pieces up to go back to the bridge you can see just there, to get shelter. Then Walter noticed this man struggling to pull something across the nearest field. Whatever was wrapped in the tarpaulin must have been too heavy for him to carry. We could hear him swearing, then he tried to roll the object but the grass seemed to be too deep. He got more and more angry, then looked around for something. That's when he saw us packing up our stuff. He immediately left the tarpaulin and ran off toward the other field. Walter began to laugh, saying it should have made us feel better that someone else was suffering in the torrential rain, not just ourselves. I was curious as to what was in the tarpaulin, and being nosey, I'd probably have gone over to see what it was if it had been good weather. It was only when we saw on the news that some boy had found a body that we thought it could have been what we saw this chap dragging to the wooded path. If it was, I'm very pleased it was raining so hard."

"Thank you Mrs Jackson, how was this man dressed?" asked Kane.

"In some dark blue workwear or protective suit."

"And any other observations? A hat, helmet, hair colour, bald? Any idea of his age? His build, you know, heavy or skinny? I realise the rain must have affected visibility but anything you can remember might help."

Walter Jackson responded. "He wasn't bald-headed, in fact he had quite a mane of dark brown hair, combed to one side I'd say. He was extremely lightweight, that's why he struggled with the tarpaulin. Age wise, we can't be sure, not just because of the rain, he had a beard which makes everyone look a bit older. I'd say he was younger than he looked. Under forty I'd guess, but Irene's eyesight is better than mine, and she said he wasn't as old as forty. So can we go now?"

"Of course. We may need to speak with you again if we find this man, are you ok with that?"

Alice chimed in. "I already covered that, guv. I have their address and phone number."

Kane thanked them again and they cycled off and appeared to be arguing with each other again.

"Just in case you forgot," teased Alice, "they were observing this man just when the downpour began so I checked with the meteorological people, and at this location that was approximately two-fifteen that afternoon – about two hours before Michael Wood found the body."

"Good work, Alice. That bloody Lorraine Hadley must have wound me up more than I thought she had. Should we check in with the field search boys before we head back?"

They walked back to where the body was found, and they were met by one of the uniformed officers who confirmed they'd finished the search while calmly handing Kane a piece of blue textile with a bronze stud which looked like it had been torn from the pocket of some garment. Kane wanted to speak with the Superintendent urgently and asked Alice to get the textile to Jenny Headley as soon as possible.

*

Kane could have waited longer but chose to go on the offensive rather than defend from a point of weakness later. Superintendent Knox had the predictable nickname of 'Fort', steadfastly scrutinising how resource was deployed and ruthless in truncating cases which whiffed of a road to nowhere.

"Take a seat, Kane. I can only spare a few minutes, I need to get this quarterly report off in tonight's mail."

Not an encouraging start. "I'll be as brief as I can, sir. This body found at Winfield Bridge is a strange one. Evidence is scant so far, but what we do know is that there were neurotoxins in his tissue, in addition to that, as of today we have three reliable witnesses who place an individual close to the scene at different times in the afternoon. In both instances he was acting very suspiciously. On checking with the local council, they are adamant none of their people were deployed in the village that day. Forensic tests have suggested the victim did not die at the scene but was placed there later. This fits with the suspicious individual dragging a tarpaulin, possibly with the corpse wrapped inside, to the actual place where the boy found what was left of it. We're making good progress now after a slow start and I want to keep DC Weaver on the case."

"So you have a name for this suspect?"

"Not as yet, sir, but I'm sure we will soon, because we have what appears to be part of his boiler suit in forensics as we speak. DNA should lead us to him."

"Robert, I'm hearing lots of should, could, soon, possibly. Another week is about all I can justify for the entire case, not just Weaver. Give me something solid or we'll have to downgrade this from suspicious death to an unexplained incident. I'm sorry but we all have our crosses to bear and one of mine is hitting targets, not chasing shadows. Now you'll have to excuse me."

# Chapter 6

December 1999

Robert Kane sat alone in his office, projecting a forlorn image through the open door. They'd failed to garner any further evidence demanded by Superintendent Knox in the time given to do so. He blamed no one but himself.

Alice Baxter, on the other hand had always been the antithesis to her boss. She lived with a boyfriend who happened to be a detective. She felt no pressure to get married, didn't have the urge to have children, and understandably had no need to justify working unsocial hours to her partner. She'd always been able to help Kane when he was angrily dealing with an irreconcilable struggle with borderline hypocrisy from above. Not this time, at least not until she persuaded him to join her at one of her favourite restaurants.

"Robert, no apology for addressing you informally, in fact that's why I invited you out, person to person. I'm just as pissed off about Knox's edict as you are. You've looked like shit the last few weeks and it has to stop. You're thinking about quitting aren't you?"

"It has crossed my mind. It feels like I'm driving on the wrong side of the road and it's only a matter of time before there's a crash. I don't want to resign but I definitely don't want to investigate burglaries and car theft for the rest of my days in the force."

She insisted he should look at her when she was talking. "I've been meaning to ask you a sensitive question and now might be the right time. Tell me to back off if I'm out of line. I was with you when we first saw the body at Winfield Bridge, and noted that your reaction wasn't normal. Was it some kind of throwback to a bad experience in your past? I mean doing your job in the force, before we knew each other."

"Alice, I've always just wanted to make a difference in delivering justice for victims of serious crime. I've come to the point of waving the white flag because we do a job in which the real enemy attacks us from behind, our own hierarchy."

"You didn't answer my question."

"What would that change?"

"Nothing if you don't answer me?"

"I find it difficult enough without you conducting another interrogation. Let's order, shall we?"

"After you open up or tell me to sod off. I know there's something you're holding back."

Several times he tried to say something but whatever it was just wouldn't leave his tongue. His eyes brimmed with salty fluid and he excused himself to use the men's room. Alice wondered if she'd pushed him too hard. When he returned he picked up the menu, waved over the waiter and said 'please take the lady's order'. Kane smiled as the waiter did as requested and then turned to him. He asked for the house special and a bottle of fizzy water.

"Water?" laughed Alice, "Robert, it'll feel better if you can tell somebody what's really getting you so down. It doesn't have to be me."

"I know, but this isn't the right place. Let's enjoy the meal and take a walk along the quayside, we can chat on the Tyne Bridge."

She nodded and was almost in tears herself. "You're not going to jump are you?"

"Of course, you found me out. I fancy taking off my clothes and jumping in the river, coming with me?"

"Maybe when it's not brass monkey weather."

*

They stood on the bridge facing in the direction of the estuary to the North Sea, and took in the vista of both sides of the river. The six existing bridges were to be complemented by yet another, to become known as the Millennium Bridge, which was on schedule to be opened in a few weeks. As Kane stared at its parabolic sapphire blue arc set against the darkness of the winter sky and twinkling reflections from the black water below, he began to unwind his caged mental struggle.

"I was a rookie, in Leeds. In those days I couldn't understand a bloody word in the 'Geordie' dialect. I didn't have a title as such. I was learning the ropes, making the tea, and generally working as a junior gopher. I actually felt like quitting then. But my big chance came after a year. I was transferred to CID, still as a bit of a lackey, but in a section with a brilliant senior detective. Martin Philipps took me under his wing and within a few months I felt I was part of a team for the first time. It was when Martin was handed the infamous Perry Dunston case that I could see myself being like him in the years ahead. He apologised later for having taken me to the crime scene with the rest of the team. What I saw that day will never leave me. I threw up twice, maybe three times before Martin sent me back to the station, and I was basically written off as not having the stomach for this kind of work. I didn't want to accept this judgement and applied for a transfer. I was determined to put it all behind me when I was offered a job in Middlesbrough. In a career sense I was doing well, other than when homicide cases landed on my desk. I was a DS by this time, and the first visit to a murder crime scene since Perry Dunston would fill me with foreboding. It did become a gradual process of desensitisation, like hearing about terrorist incidents, at first you're shocked to the core, but day after day reports dull the horror and you cope. Not so with Perry Dunston. He wasn't much younger than me when I saw him that day. Forgive me, Alice, but I don't want to re-live all the gory details, suffice it to say that his killer had tortured him for whatever reason, something we never really found out. He was strapped to a wooden chair in a derelict factory. That first sight was bad enough, as the head was missing, and then I saw the pathologist examining it some distance away. Perry's eyes were open and no matter where I moved to and turned they still looked at me, as if I could help him. We only found out later that he'd also been sexually abused. When I considered quitting, something kept pulling me back, wanting to bring animals like his killer to justice. Over time my repeated experience with how murderers are more leniently treated has worn down that calling. How was it so important to know _why_ that beast, vermin, inhuman bastard, whatever tag is appropriate, did that to another person? Why shouldn't he have to forfeit his own life? Why didn't he serve a full sentence? Why could he be allowed to study law while incarcerated? I'm obviously not clever enough to see the rewards of rehabilitation of murderers who kill, confess, and then exploit the system. I can handle not having the death penalty anymore, as long as full sentence is mandatory without parole. What escapes me is that we never see the analytical evidence of all these killers' motives leading to eradication of such endemically evil behaviour. For the want of a better explanation, I put it down to the intelligentsia at the top of the police force wanting nothing more than reducing the number of criminals in prison. Meeting the budget targets. Sorry, I'm in rant mode again. I didn't want to burden you with a bloody sermon, Alice. When I saw the body at Winfield Bridge, it plunged me back to Leeds and Perry Dunston. And at least we eventually got the swine who killed the lad. I'm now at that crossroads again because Knox has mothballed the case. It's obscene and I can't accept that deep down he knows that himself. What's the fucking point?"

Alice put her arms around him and held him close for a long time before responding. "Are you going to let him win then, Robert? There's only so much we can do from where we stand, but I'm still optimistic that something will turn up with this case. It's so different from anything we've worked on in Newcastle, so there has to be evidence we've missed. I'm not going to let Knox and the faceless ones he reports to infect me with their apathetic approach. Give yourself a little breathing space. Take a week's leave, go for sunny beach break, or maybe even get yourself laid, whatever? You know I'm able to hold the fort, and even _Fort_ Knox for a week, no problem."

They split up and on the way home Alice hailed a cab, but Robert Kane declined joining her and splitting the fare. Because he did actually feel the burden was lighter when shared with someone he respected. He wanted to breathe in the night air.

*

When Kane entered the station bright and early the next day, the desk sergeant asked for a word. "I've had that Mrs Hadley on the blower, apparently her husband has re-surfaced. So, that was a waste of everybody's time."

"Thanks, Reggie, it seems we have to nanny half the population these days. Let me know if somebody loses their car keys."

Kane and Alice were sifting through the scant evidence again and putting it into a new matrix of categories. Not 'hard' versus 'circumstantial' but rather dead ends and ones which could have potential links to any further incoming information. They needed a solid record because if the case was mothballed for a long period, they didn't want to rely purely on memory. It was tiresome but would have to be done anyway if it became a cold case.

Alice's optimism from the previous evening was either going to prove uncannily justified or perhaps the utterance of a prophet of doom. Once again Edenwell uniformed police called, wanting to speak with Newcastle CID in order to report an unexplained death. The body had been found by the groundsman of Blackford football club, in their car park of all places, when he'd arrived for his early shift. The desk sergeant passed on the bare details.

"Why didn't you put them through directly to me, Reggie?"

"I thought the whole case had been mothballed so I didn't want to give them a commitment on your behalf before you'd had a chance to think about it."

"Ok, that makes sense in this bloody mad house. Thanks, we'll set off in about ten minutes. I would hate to leave without telling his nibs that we might have a linked case to the one he chose to downgrade."

Kane turned to Alice. They both smiled. "While I'm in the throne room, Alice, can you just give a nod on this to DC Weaver? Tell him to keep shtum for now, but we might need him back."

"Will do. But sir, what about taking one of our own uniform bods with us? You know as well as I do, those country boys were pretty poor at securing the Winfield Bridge scene and finding witnesses. I'm even prepared to believe that they could also have compromised trace evidence unintentionally by discarding stuff they thought had no connection. You must agree that it's unusual for a scenario like that to be virtually forensically threadbare?"

"Mm, ok see if Reggie can get us a liveried car with an officer, tell him both our cars are coincidentally scheduled for servicing at the same time."

On the way to see Fort Knox, Kane detoured to alert both Hugh and Jenny, telling them to give Alice and himself about fifteen minutes head start before setting off.

# Chapter 7

Kane's brush with Superintendent Knox lasted all of thirty seconds. "Just letting you know we might have another unexplained death not too far from the Winfield Bridge incident. I've been asked yet again to advise Edenwell police as to whether it could be suspicious. I take it you have no objections."

"Uh... well, of course not..."

"Fine, I'll update you when I get back."

He ran down the stairs and Alice said the liveried transport was on its way. The uniformed driver had the klaxon going so they could hear him approaching.

The tyres squealed as he turned into the car park. Alice tried to give him directions but he already knew where the football ground was. When they arrived the groundsman was still in shock and being consoled by other staff who'd arrived since he found the body. Kane suggested the Edenwell constables could leave the rest to his team.

"We'll have to check that with the station, sir."

"In that case, get your boss on your two-way system right now and I'll take it from there. You either want my help or you don't."

The officer made the call from his vehicle and shouted to Kane, "He's ready to speak to you, sir."

"DCI Kane here, you called in this death just as you did with the Winfield Bridge case, I'm here at the football ground. If I'm expected to make an assessment I need only my people to be here. Too many cooks, you know. Yes or no?"

"Very well, we'll log your decision regarding the incident and update it accordingly. If you can pass me back to our constable I'll tell him to come back here."

"Great, thanks."

*

The scene was nothing like the one on the Red Kite Walk, at first sight. The body was lying face down, wasn't mutilated in any way, smartly dressed, and it was a gloriously sunny day. Alice had already started taking notes from the groundsman. Kane stooped to take a closer look at the dead man. The corpse, in his unqualified opinion, was that of a late twenties – early thirties male. He was so well groomed that he could have been mistaken for a display mannequin.

The cavalry arrived and he pulled Hugh to one side as Jenny set out her usual 'keep off' markers. "Forgive me for jumping in before you get started, Hugh, but there's no way this body was hidden, it even looks like it was intended to be found as soon as possible. Even if the groundsman hadn't come to work so early, it can be seen from the main road. So, if it has been brought here to be dumped, it would surely have happened during the cover of darkness."

"I can't argue with that, however, as I always say, you're the detective, I reserve my expertise to medical science. You're hoping for a link aren't you? Well, I'm afraid that will have to wait."

They were interrupted by Alice. "Sir, gloaters are arriving all the time, we're going to need the Edenwell uniform squad back here before we get overrun. I still have to get a coherent statement from the groundsman."

"Ok, Alice, I'll make the call, can you get err... our driver... what's his name...?"

"Dominic Jennings, no, he's already trying to deal with keeping these people behind the walls on all three sides. They're mostly idiots from the public, but one or two familiar faces have cameras and it's getting out of control."

"Point taken. I'll get reinforcements organised and I'll help young Jennings."

*

Three squad cars pulled up and at least nine uniformed officers emerged to quell the unruly mob. Both Kane and Dominic Jennings had suffered grazes from objects hurled at them. Alice asked one of the new recruits to assist Jennings to move the body inside the club offices. The groundsman was relieved about this and handed Alice the keys. Abandoning the potential crime scene was not ideal but better than causing more of the public to descend on the car park.

They managed to lock the main gates again and the crowd began to dissipate, Jenny called Kane and Hugh to a separate office.

"I just wanted to mention something before more of the press arrive here in significant numbers. One of the first things I noticed when checking the dead man's clothing was that he had a couple of credit cards with him. More interesting however, is that he had the same contaminant on his lower back as the corpse found at Winfield Bridge. Interestingly, the translucent blue cast was a slightly deeper hue. Because of this I advise taking the corpse back to the lab right now. The place where he was found looks like a forensic desert and I don't want to risk that mob getting close to the body."

Kane looked at Hugh, who nodded in agreement and the decision was ratified. "Go for it, Jennings and one of the Edenwell boys can help out and return with you. Alice and I will stay here with the groundsman, the poor guy is still in shock."

*

Back at the office, Kane and Alice were busy trying to link the decedent's credit cards with an address and any other information his bank might have. The bank was being ultra-cautious, pushing Kane's blood a few degrees nearer to boiling point. "Look, I've given you everything we have on Steven Bainbridge. Just make a call to our Chief Constable to verify my identity. You should be grateful I'm letting you know of this man's death so you can put a temporary lock on his account or whatever you do in such circumstances. There are other ways I can get his age, address, marital status, what he had to eat last night and the colour of his underpants by warrants, which you will receive in writing if necessary. It's highly likely we'll need forensic financial analysis as well because it's a suspicious death. Your call."

Alice sat through this diatribe, thinking to herself, 'he's back on track'. "Calm down, guv. We already have the link with this neurotoxin contaminant stuff, it can't be a coincidence. Even Knox will see that, if he doesn't it will rebound on him at some stage. I'm more concerned about the groundsman. My gut says he knew this Steven Bainbridge, not personally, but recognising his face from somewhere. He was out of the loop for a hell of a long time before we took him home. I should bring him in again. Yes?"

"Absolutely, do it tomorrow." The phone rang. It was the credit card company. Steven Bainbridge's profile information was supplied.

His address was in Winfield Bridge. He was thirty-one years of age and was married. The most recent transaction was from the previous day, but it was a joint account and could have been authorised by his wife as it was to a supermarket chain. Kane and Alice debated when they should speak with the wife. They decided Edenwell officers should be the ones to tell her of her husband's death as he'd been found on their patch.

*

Meanwhile, Jenny and Hugh were locking horns again over time of death. Eventually, the latter gave way, conceding that there was a clear gradient of temperature registered by a probe at different depths into the body. Tissue at the centre of the upper thigh muscles was frozen solid and almost impenetrable. They finally got their heads together and coalesced around the body having been in deep freeze for a considerable time and therefore didn't die very recently. The more difficult aspect was how this could back-relate to the first remains from Winfield Bridge. They agreed to let other evidence from the second body dictate their respective final conclusions.

Spoiling for a fight, Kane marched up the stairs to the office of Superintendent Knox, and refused to acknowledge the secretary's shake of the head as to whether he could enter. Knox wasn't pleased with the intrusion either, yet asked the other person in the room to give Kane and himself a couple of minutes.

"Look, Chief, there's compelling evidence to link this latest unexplained death in Blackford to the one in Winfield Bridge. For once I'm going to step back from trying to convince you of such a link, you can get that from our forensic expert and the pathologist directly. If you aren't convinced then I'm prepared to be taken off the case, because I'd feel I was obviously in the wrong job. If the aforementioned people do not agree with me about this then we both have a problem. You'd really have to question whether I should be quietly moved closer to early retirement. However, what really concerns me is that this has all the signs of more bodies appearing, a la classic serial killer. So, I've got to be a part of preventing this otherwise it's bound to reflect negatively on you as well as myself. Time is our enemy as of now. Sorry for the intrusion but I think this is more urgent than submission of the monthly target data compliance for head office. Do you want me to step back from the investigation?"

"DCI Kane, I take exception to your unwarranted intrusion, and your threatening behaviour. You need to think carefully about this, especially with respect to offering your willingness to retire early. Perhaps you should be concentrating on what resource we would need if these two cases really are homicides committed by the same perpetrator. I'm always open to hearing well-considered recommendations regarding changes in approach, with the attendant justification of course. I strongly suggest you go that route and see me tomorrow by appointment. Is that plain enough?"

"It is, would two-thirty tomorrow afternoon be convenient?"

"On this occasion I'll inform my secretary regarding what we've agreed, two-thirty it is then."

On the way back to his office he motioned for Alice to join him. "Well, I think it turned out almost as I expected. The wily old bugger took the bait and tried to make sure his own arse was covered either way. It was worth the risk."

"So, what exactly do we need to do now?"

"We have to do two things. We have to get Hugh and Jenny prepare an interim report in which they emphasise the fine detail of this neurotoxin and why it is such a solid link. And we have to go and see Steven Bainbridge's wife to understand where she thought her husband was, because as of now he hasn't been reported missing. I'd like to start the conversation by saying we're investigating possible fraud with respect to his credit cards."

*

"I'm DCI Kane and this is DS Baxter. As you've probably been informed we were asked to look into Steven's demise by the Edenwell force."

Linda Bainbridge didn't appear to be quite as upset about her husband's death as they expected; she seemed to be far more worried about her own future.

"No, no, I wasn't... they just told me where he was found and err...that I should be prepared to identify him or ask some other close relative to do it on my behalf. But...you're from...you are a detective. So, why are you here?"

"Well, I'm sorry Mrs Bainbridge, they ought to have explained that Steven's death probably occurred in suspicious circumstances. We need to ask you a few questions to try and find out what really did happen to him. Is that ok?"

"Yes, that's... fine, but... I'm probably not the best person to do that. Steven and I separated two years ago."

"Oh." said Kane, motioning for DS Baxter to take over.

Alice stuttered as she tried to maintain her composure. "When you...you, err say separated, Linda, do you mean divorced?"

"No, but it was a gut wrenching time for me, we agreed to remain friends, and we have a daughter to think about. Steven agreed to leave the joint account in place and transfer regular sums of money to that account so that Amy and I weren't financially cut adrift. I don't know what the hell I'm going to do now. Sorry, you'll have to excuse me, I need a tissue."

"Take your time, all the time you need. Do you want us to come back later?"

"No, I do need to hear what happened, there'll be things I have to do. Please just give me a minute."

She went to the bathroom to retrieve her box of tissues. Kane asked Alice to continue with the questions, primarily to ask if Steven was living with some other woman.

Linda Bainbridge pre-empted this by asking straight out how Steven had died. "The other police officers didn't seem to know anything other than he was dead and where he was found."

"We don't have an exact cause of death yet, but we believe he may not have died where he was found. Was he living with someone else?"

"I don't think so, I recently got the impression that he thought he'd made a mistake in leaving Amy and myself."

# Chapter 8

Jenny took a call from her contact at the specialised lab where she'd dropped off the second victim's translucent bluish contaminant. She fully expected him to say it was a match for that of the unknown man's body at Winfield Bridge. What she heard was confusing.

"I'll send a full written report, Jenny, but I thought it best to get an idea of how much more work you want me to do, because it would be very expensive. I can confirm the neurotoxin is indeed the same as the one in the first remains you sent. I've narrowed it down to spider venom, but as yet not any individual arachnid group. The problem here is that these venoms are composed of almost countless specific chemicals and there is quite a lot of overlap between varieties of spiders. I don't have the equipment to carry out such a screening exercise so I'd have to outsource it. However, before we get bogged down with that decision, I found something else. There were traces of anti-venom, or antidote, whichever you prefer to call it. This triggered something I learned at university to come to mind. Studies have shown that one of the ways to develop these treatments was to inject rabbits with the venom and test them for antibody production over time. It was partially successful and by subsequent purification of the rabbit blood which had sufficient antibodies, the chances of human fatalities were greatly diminished. What was the trade off? You might have guessed – in some humans it could cause anaphylactic shock leading to cardiac arrest. Now then, here is the conundrum. You gave me very small quantities of the gel like substance, and the neurotoxin level in them was miniscule. And strangely the antibody concentration was far less than would have been needed to fully neutralise the venom."

"Shit, that's some weird story. I'm thinking out loud here. If these two people suffered venomous spider bites there could be a lot of theoretical causes of death."

"That's why I said further testing would be incredibly expensive to fund and might not be of direct help in any judicial case. It would be subject to reasonable doubt. For example, the bites could have been a pure accident which was unsuccessfully treated, or even that the treatment caused cardiac arrest itself. My gut tells me that the likelihood of this happening to two people within days is extremely remote, unless they were friends and were somehow both bitten and treated together. It would be a one in a million chance."

Jenny thought about this and was drawn into the world of speculation. "What if they were deliberately exposed to lethal spiders by one other person? No that wouldn't work, but that person could have been offering them an antidote in exchange for something. No, I think we should leave things as they stand, the only fact being that they both had the same combination of neurotoxin and antidote present in their bodies. I'll call you back, I need time to process this. Anyway, thanks for your help."

*

Because of Linda Bainbridge's lack of emotion when informed of her estranged husband's death, Alice produced the two credit cards found on what was assumed to be Steven's body. "The reason we need to ask more questions is that we must be absolutely certain that it was your husband who was found. Are either of these cards consistent with the joint bank account arrangement?"

Linda nodded, now on the verge of breaking down completely. "Yes, this one, it's his bank card, I have one like it but in my own name. The other one you have is Steven's alone, probably for receipt of his salary."

"And when did you last use your card?"

"Err...yesterday, at Tesco. I'm sorry, do you know why he was found at the football ground?"

"We don't know that yet. We wanted to ask about the last time you saw him."

"I can't remember exactly, it's usually when he comes to see Amy. I'll have to think about it, but Amy will know. Anyway, I just think it's strange that you found Steven there because he used to play football, not for Blackford, for another team. But he did play against Blackford sometimes, when we lived together. Actually, I think he may have played for Blackford when he was younger, before I was going out with him."

"Thanks for being so patient, Linda. Do you have someone who you can talk to, or stay with you and Amy?"

"Yes, my mother and Steven's mother, we still get on well, and of course they are Amy's grandparents. I'm expecting Amy back soon, so I'll probably take her to see Steven's Mum first. She needs to know, and she'll help me in finding the right words to tell Amy."

"Ok, we'll be on our way. We're almost sure to need to speak to you again when we know more, but if there's anything you're worried about or think is important, here's my card. Call me anytime."

*

Alice and Kane looked at one another as they pulled away from the Bainbridge residence. "I told you, guv, I knew the groundsman was holding something back. That's where we're going now isn't it?"

"Yep. You can carry on asking the questions when we get there. I'm beginning to feel redundant. I wonder what it is that gripped him for hours after he found the lad. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. Any ideas?"

"I don't actually. Must be something seriously important to him though, he was a lot more cut up about it than Linda Bainbridge was."

They kicked up a lot of dust as they drove through the trash the mob had left in the car park. A young man in a Blackford training top came out of the office toward them.

"Excuse me, is the groundsman still here?" asked Kane.

"Yeah, he's marking out the white lines on the pitch, down the stairs and straight through the tunnel."

"Thanks."

They stood on the touchlines and waited until he spotted them. He parked the whitewashing spreader and ambled to where they were standing.

"Hello again," said Alice, "feeling any better?"

"A bit, yes. Is there something else you want?"

"Yes, we've spoken to the dead man's wife and she told us he's played at this ground sometimes."

"He has, quite a few times. I used to coach him when he was a junior, before the club said they didn't want to re-sign him for the next season."

"Why didn't you tell us that when you gave your statement?"

"I was numbed when I saw his face, it was partly my fault he was told he could leave all those years ago. There had been a bit of thieving from the bar till. The chairman closed the bar and called the local police to investigate. It was a considerable amount of money. The chairman said it must have been one or more of the players, he was sure the rest of the staff were honest. After that, Steven came to me and said there'd been a bit of fisticuffs between some of the players about it. I couldn't get him to give me names, he wouldn't grass up any of them. Because I tried to tell the chairman we didn't need the police involved he demoted me from a coach to groundsman. He said I was too lenient with players, but I could keep the coaching job if I could find the culprit. I agonised over the whole episode, and caved in eventually. I told the chairman that Steven knew who the thief was but wouldn't rat on him. Steven was brought in front of the chairman but still wouldn't name the thief, and that was the final straw for the boss. He told the lad he had to find another club and didn't keep his promise that I would still be the coach. I never really got over the injustice of it and I was also ashamed of dropping an honest young lad in the shit like that. It all came flooding back when I saw him lying there. I'll never get over this, I'm going to quit my lousy job."

Kane said he would have to come to the station to make a revised statement. They headed back to Newcastle.

*

Jenny and Hugh were waiting to receive them to go over the latest thinking involving the neurotoxin evidence, prior to Kane's meeting with Superintendent Knox.

"Jesus, that's so bloody complicated I wouldn't be confident about explaining it correctly to him. Are the two of you in agreement with what it means?"

They both nodded, but Hugh poured even more cold water over the situation. "Jenny and I need more time to look into this because we could never justify the sums of money to outsource the work. I have to admit that this information also makes me less sure about time of death, never mind cause of death. The very fact that we found such a steep temperature gradient from the core to the skin of the second victim's upper thighs is worrying me. I'd like to perform more tests to carefully evaluate all the effects prolonged deep freeze could have had on the tissue of the Winfield Bridge remains. Sorry, but it's better to admit one is wrong than merely keep endorsing one's initial conclusion."

Kane flopped into the nearest chair and held his head in his hands. "It's a waste of time discussing this with Knox now. I thought this spider venom connection was solid evidence."

"It is," insisted Jenny, "we just have to avoid reading too much into it right now. Both bodies show irrefutable proof of its presence, and of the rabbit blood antidote. That in itself cannot simply be a coincidence. Both bodies have been frozen, were found within a few miles of each other, and didn't die at those respective locations. I know some of this will be categorised as circumstantial evidence but individually none of them contradict the view that they are linked."

"Perhaps, Jenny, but the CPS won't go near this without the scientific evidence being simple to understand and conclusive, rather than mind-boggling and in need of more work. Old Knox the fox will have me for breakfast if I put any kind of doubt in his stubborn head. He relies on organisations such as the Crown Prosecution Service to give him wriggle room. Look, let's be realistic, I'll postpone my meeting with him and let him stew as to why. If he forces me to explain I'll tell him we have a new line of inquiry with the guy who found the second body. He'll be happy about that because it costs nothing and kicks the can down the road. He doesn't have to make a decision. Are we all good with that?"

Jenny and Hugh agreed, Alice said nothing.

When they were alone she raised the possibility of the groundsman knowing Steven Bainbridge's wife. "Since he went into a state of meltdown from hardly saying a word at the time he found the body, and she knew he had played matches _for and_ _against_ the Blackford team, they could have met already. In retrospect, I did find her account of living separate lives but having a joint bank account very unusual. She was convincing, maybe too convincing."

"Mm...well, ask her to come in at the same time as the groundsman. It can be arranged for them to bump into each other in the corridor."

"Ok, do you want me to conduct both interviews?"

"Sure, maybe you're on to something with Linda Bainbridge. When she was asked whether her hubby was living with someone else, she said she didn't think so. Both you and I bought into this and failed to ask _where_ he was currently living. If you can tease that out of her I can check the place out while she's here."

"Fine. I know we have to be cynical like this at times, but Linda and this groundsman share the same immunity from contradiction by Steven, simply because he's dead. I hope I'm wrong, guv, it just has to be eliminated."

# Chapter 9

Having postponed his head to head with Knox, Kane had a free slot. He wanted to speak with Hugh on his own. The pathologist was half expecting this. The pervading aroma of the morgue wasn't conducive to discussing the various roadblocks the investigation suffered with alarming regularity. Especially as Hugh often carried on his work as he talked, refusing to be distracted by what he considered to be unrealistic expectation from the uneducated. One of his favourite pranks when seemingly cornered was to pull open a refrigerated drawer containing a half finished post mortem.

"Afternoon, I wanted to ask your opinion as to where this bloody neurotoxin saga is going. Are you ok with that?"

"Depends on what specifically you're driving at. I sense you're trying to drag me into your world of detective psychology and deductive reasoning, but ask away."

"I need to simplify the relevance of it in my own head. I got the impression from both Jenny and yourself when we last spoke that you're wavering about cause of death as well as time of death. I, as you might expect, see one of them more critical than the other. With the first body you more or less admitted you were puzzled, the guy had been in good shape, there were no signs of physical trauma and the organs you could check showed no particular signs of failure. When this neurotoxin was found we all began to firm up on this being the cause of death. Added to this, the body having been placed where it was found, pointed to homicide. How has that changed?"

"Ah, well I can offer my view on this but I'm afraid it might muddy the waters even more. Do you want me to do that?"

"Hugh, I'm speaking with you because the pathologist takes centre stage when we're talking about how victims died. Forensic evidence can back up or challenge pathology conclusions, but that evidence is not always about purely medical stuff. Bullet wounds, entry and exit, blood spatter patterns etcetera, you know very well what I mean. Something has moved the goalposts."

"Mm, now I know where you're coming from. Very well, indeed the neurotoxin did seem to clear things up regarding cause of death, it was the presence of a damned antidote which now reintroduces confusion. I have to concede that I did step into your shoes, metaphorically speaking, for a few minutes and wondered exactly who could have administered the rabbit anti-venom. That was when I snapped out of playing detective, because it could have been a doctor, a friend, himself, or anyone trying to help. But who would be able to lay their hands on such medication? So, we can flip the coin and think about someone wishing him harm. It certainly is a type of Rubik cube puzzle. When the second body exhibited almost exactly the same picture it defies the odds of coincidence, but here again we run into a caveat. Why would someone other than a perpetrator fail to report such a sequence to the police or a hospital? Allowing further speculation, could the spider bite have been _arranged_ by another person? So, I'm sure you'll understand that I must confine any future comment to the medical science, while sympathising with your position."

"Beautifully put, Hugh. But we all know that these two guys didn't die of natural causes, even Knox himself. Ok, I'll await further developments. One last point of order, you haven't sent me your autopsy report on the second fatality – Steven Bainbridge, any reason for that?"

"I can give you a verbal summary now, I've only just finished with him."

"No, Hugh, a written report is called for by our procedural bible. I'm just a detective, not a medical science guru, remember?"

*

Alice had decided to interview Linda Bainbridge before the groundsman. "Thank you for coming in, Linda. First of all, I forgot to ask if you knew where your husband was living, even though you didn't think he was with someone else. If you do know it could be helpful to us in finding out exactly what happened to him."

"Yes, of course. He used to take Amy there sometimes and drop her off later. He has a...err...had a small cottage in Ebdene, just a couple of miles from Winfield Bridge, I have the address here in my bag."

"Thank you. I'll just get one of our people to log it into our case records. I'll be back in a minute, can I get you something to drink?"

"A coffee would be nice."

"I'll grab one for each of us then."

Linda fiddled with her phone while she was alone but didn't appear to find what she was looking for. The dingy, poorly lit room and cheap flat pack furniture created a slightly unnerving ambience, which she assumed was contrived to make those being grilled uncomfortable.

Alice passed the address to Kane and returned to the interview room. "There you go, sorry it's just instant coffee, not proper freshly ground beans. Help yourself to milk and sugar."

"Black is fine for me, thanks."

"So, I wanted to tell you we can't release Steven's body just yet as we were obliged to perform an autopsy in order to determine why he actually passed away so suddenly. We haven't found the cause yet and that's quite unusual. I know you were separated but can you help us in any way about his movements in recent days?"

"Not really, Amy and I have been spending a lot of time at her swimming club, she's hoping to be selected for the school team. She takes after her dad in being sporty. I'm useless at all sports but I like to be there for her. Actually, I haven't seen Steven very frequently since we split up because he set up everything between us to run like clockwork. You know, bank transfers, picking her up from school and making arrangements by phone."

"You made a remark about him maybe regretting the separation, what made you think so?"

"I found out from a friend he'd been seeing someone else before our separation, and I was so hurt I refused to even discuss why he'd cheated. I think he took my silence as meaning there was no way back for us. Anyway, he agreed to move out, telling me we might be able to benefit from giving each other space to do what was best for our daughter. I couldn't argue with that, and in fact he was right, we got on a lot better apart than we had since Amy was born. I think he realised having a child had changed me quite a lot, you know, priorities of life rather than dreams. Steven was a dreamer twenty-four seven. Living apart actually brought us closer, as stupid as that seems. We were beginning to enjoy each other's company again and he could see how happy that made Amy. He could see I was ready to try again, and then this."

Linda Bainbridge couldn't contain her grief any longer and asked if she could use the washroom. Alice nodded and showed her the way. When she returned Alice decided the time was right. "Have you any idea why the Blackford football club groundsman would be so devastated when he found Steven's body?"

"Yes. Albert was like a father figure for Steven. His real father died when Steven was just a baby. He was killed by a runaway lorry on Ebdene bank. It's a very steep hill, and after that accident, the council put in an escape lane full of gravel, so that if another vehicle's brakes failed they could steer into that lane and come to a halt. The road signs are still there telling drivers to use low gears."

"Oh dear," said Alice, "so, Albert and Steven were good friends?"

"Yes, until...well, I don't know all the details but Steven said Albert had been responsible for ruining his relationship with Blackford football club. That's all I know other than Steven feeling really let down. I've never heard Albert's side of the story. It's hard to believe Steven's body was found there, in that car park, it's spooky."

She began to well up again and Alice was pretty sure there was no point in pursuing this line of questioning with Linda. She left the room and ensured Albert was removed from the corridor as Linda left. If there was anything more of interest she had to get it from Albert himself.

*

Kane was able to walk around the cottage looking at each side in turn. The curtains were open, enabling him to see inside. It certainly did seem like there was only one person living there, and without keys there was not much else he could achieve. He would ask Linda Bainbridge if she had a set of keys for the property. She may not, but no keys were found on Steven's body, so the next option was a warrant to search the premises.

Meanwhile, Alice wheeled Albert into a vacant interview room. "Linda Bainbridge says you were like a father to Steven before you reported him to the chairman of your club."

His head dropped immediately. "Yes, and Steven was good for me after Betty, my wife, had to go into social care. Running me there and back in his car."

"Albert, do we have your surname spelled correctly here? Eastham?"

"Yes. I think what you're really asking is whether I'm a distant relative of Steven in some way."

"I'm just trying to understand how you can help us in finding out what happened to Steven. Perhaps you know more about why his body was in the car park, someone expecting you to be the first person there that morning."

"I've been thinking about that myself. I knew Steven's father quite well, we were good friends. I spent a lot of time helping his devastated widow, Maureen. Bringing up a child on her own was difficult. Over the next few years we got close and Steven was doing well at school. I don't want you to get the wrong idea here, but Maureen and I really enjoyed each other's company. I was never going to get married again and she would never have wanted us to go that far, actually we were more like brother and sister. Anyway, I've gone over this awful situation in my head and the only reason I can entertain is that somebody knew about Maureen and me, and didn't like it. If that's the case then they needn't worry any more. Maureen wants me to keep away from her now, you see Steven never told her about me betraying him."

"I see, and does Linda know about you and Maureen?"

"I can't be sure, obviously, but Maureen is very careful about those things. She always told Steven from a young age that he should think of me as his uncle. And that was actually a good way, because Steven's real dad was a better friend to me than either of my own brothers."

"Ok, Mr Eastham, let's leave it there for now. If you do come up with any other reason why this might have happened, just call me."

"I surely will, this is preventing me from sleeping and I can't get it out of my mind."

*

When Kane heard Alice's summation of Linda Bainbridge and Albert Eastham's interviews, he made a philosophical assessment of the whole picture and then asked Alice what she thought regarding any further approach to Knox.

"It's a real shame, guv, but if you're really asking what I would do in your shoes, I would pull back a bit and make sure you can fight another day."

"You know I'm a stubborn bastard, but I agree with your take. The bloody tech and pathology bods are rowing back on stuff they said about cause of death and time of death, when they readily accept that there has been foul play. We're kind of stuck at the bottom of a ski slope and whenever we take a step forward we slide further back down than where we started. If Hugh and Jenny need more time, then we have to acknowledge that the science is very complex. I'm going to tell Knox the ball is in his court."

"Good luck with that, sir. He doesn't like upward delegation. He'll come down on us like a ton of bricks, but what the hell. We aren't getting pressure from the media yet, but when we do, Knox will go ape shit."

"So, we're going to need a few hard hats then. We've been there before, but at least we'll know that his arse is dangling over the alligator pond alongside ours."

# Chapter 10

Easter 2000

The investigation had lapsed into the doldrums. Kane and Alice were busy with several other cases, largely routine, aggravated burglary, domestic abuse, road accidents due to drink drivers, and the like. There always seemed to be a flood of incoming paperwork on the first day back from the bank holiday weekend. Alice was putting stuff into different categories when she dithered about starting a new pile or placing one of them in miscellaneous. Sorting new incidents in this way was tedious but it eased one's mental re-engagement with the reality of the job, compared to the fantasy of life being _normal_. She paused, noting 'a drowning \- a badly decomposed body on Northsea beach'. It was probably nothing but there was also nothing to lose by making a call. She phoned her boyfriend. "Glen, do you know anyone who works in the Northsea force?"

"Don't think so, why?"

"Just curious. Apparently, there was a drowning reported by a lifeguard yesterday."

"You think it might be...?"

"Not very likely, but I just wondered."

"Well, why don't you make a formal enquiry?"

"You know how that works, right? Come on, I'd only have one question, a very simple one."

"You mean you want to find out via somebody's indiscretion?"

"It happens all the time. Have you never bullshitted your way to some revelation by a 'nod, nod – wink, wink' old boy's network?"

"I... err...not..."

"Not recently, I know, but you don't want to help me? Unless I'm imagining it, you had a colleague, who was also a mate in the White Bay nick. Joe something or other?"

"Yeah, but I think he moved on. It's at least six years since I last saw him."

"Can you find out if he's still there, sorry, _will_ you try to find out?"

"Ok, so what's the question?"

"The report says it was a male, and the body was decomposed. There was potential ID on him and he apparently lived in Newcastle, that's probably why we were copied into the report. One courtesy deserves another. Anyway, my question is although the body has suffered degradation, is there a blue tinted patch anywhere on the lower back? That's all. You are a detective, aren't you?"

"I'll get back to you."

*

Kane was still in semi-hibernation mode until he was jolted by being summoned to see Knox. "I take it you enjoyed the Easter break, Robert?"

"Yes, sir. Sat in Exhibition Park, cycled along the river to The Hub, had a latte with a few other bikers and took some photos of the new Millennium Bridge. I resisted the urge to jump off it. Anyway, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes. I know you won't like to hear what I'm going to say, so take a seat and listen to what's going to happen."

Kane squirmed after just one sentence, the rest went in one ear and out of the other.

"HQ have arranged a seminar, the theme being 'Modernisation'. It covers upgrading of all computer related communication opportunities and the increasing importance of profiling various categories of homicidal individuals. The presentation comes our way next week. It's not optional you will attend."

"Thank you, sir. I look forward to it."

"And so will DS Baxter. There are other areas to be covered, especially trends to new types of crime. They won't be in your bailiwick, nevertheless we have to move with the times and there's no doubt that fraud and cyber-crime will feature highly in the coming decades. That's all for now."

As he trailed back down the stairs he suddenly craved a cigarette even though he'd given up more than twenty years ago.

*

"Alice, I have something to tell you, can you spare me a minute?"

"Ok, guv, I'll be there as soon as I get this written down."

She arrived carrying a single sheet of paper.

"Bad news, Alice. His nibs insists that we both have to attend a seminar next week. In case you've forgotten, that's a fancy word for blowhards to have a captive audience of uninterested plods like us. The really bad news is that one of the plenary sessions is on the increasing importance of profilers. You didn't know I was able to use the word plenary, did you? Never mind, I still don't know what it means. You don't look all that disappointed."

"I would be pretty underwhelmed if I didn't have something to tell you. A source, a reliable source, has just informed me that a drowned man found at Northsea yesterday has a translucent blue patch on his lower back, well, nearer to his arse actually."

Kane didn't react.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Of course, I'm just trying to process the fallout it will have. Is there anything in the papers about it?"

"Yes, but only that he was probably washed up on the beach after having drifted out to sea at some time. Nothing about any other circumstances. Why? What's going on in that blender brain of yours?"

"I don't see the location as promising from our standpoint."

Alice explained a little more. "The ID places him as resident in Newcastle city centre, so he could originally be from anywhere. This report we were copied with was short of detail. No name, nada. That might be because there could be jurisdiction issues, I suppose. But, my source let slip that their pathologist thinks he's been dead for quite some time, definitely more than a week."

"So, this could be number three, then. I can't wait to see Knox's face when this does hit the press. Should put a different slant on the bloody seminar. Are you going to be able to tap into further developments in Northsea?"

"I'm not sure. However, I'd have thought it might be smart to show Knox this copy, which we didn't ask for. Then he can't deny knowledge of the incident, having seen the report at the same time as ourselves. Because, if this snowballs in the press, his own snowballs could come under scrutiny. As you've always said yourself, with every increasing level of authority we see more hindsight applied to judgement. Knox likes to have wriggle room, but he basically closed off our case against all internal advice, and that is on record."

"Alice, can I kiss you?"

"Bugger off, you can buy me a nice Italian dinner."

*

Kane revelled in his contrived humility. "Sir, I thought I should pass a copy of this on to you. It's not unheard of for us to receive notification of a death in a different location when the deceased actually lives in Newcastle. Is there anything you want me to do about it?"

Knox scanned the report quickly. "It says he drowned, has he been reported missing?"

"I don't know, I'll get DS Baxter to come upstairs, she was given the report by the front desk sergeant."

"Well, hurry up, Robert. I have an appointment."

Alice arrived as if summoned by rubbing Aladdin's lamp. Kane phrased Knox's question to her and she uttered the well-rehearsed response.

"There's no name on the report, so I checked our log and there's no missing person listed which could be the drowned man. We don't actually have any more than what you see on that copy."

"Well, then, we only need to get involved if we're asked," declared Knox.

Alice queried this. "Perhaps we should at least find out his name and speak to any relative we can trace. Somebody owes his family that. Shouldn't we check this out with the Northsea people?"

"Good point, Alice," said Knox, squirming as if he actually thought Kane should have known it was standard protocol, "get them to put their advice in writing. Call them now, no time like the present."

Both Alice and Kane had witnessed this instruction.

*

With this potential third death being linked to the others, Kane went to see Hugh. "Well, to what do I owe the pleasure? It has been quite a rarity for you to visit me in person these last few weeks."

"Just a courtesy call, Hugh. I know that the Winfield Bridge and Blackford deaths were virtually consigned to become cold cases, but did you terminate your interest in them altogether?"

"Aha, you can't let go, can you?"

"True, but I've been blocked from above. I got the feeling you and Jenny were also disappointed with the decision, because both of you thought there was still some science in there which might become relevant to other cases in future."

"Now I finally understand why you're a born sleuth, Robert. Well, if this is off the record I may be able to speak for both Jenny and myself, otherwise I must remind you of established procedure."

"It stays here, in your office, Hugh. I can pledge that much."

"Let me see, then. Right, we contacted various experts including counter-terrorism people. We had no success in a specific sense relating to the two deaths, however, it transpires that it is possible to inject venom into many animals and then administer just the correct amount of antidote to avoid anaphylactic shock and allow the subject to pass away quietly and without much or any trauma to most of the organs essential to living and breathing. In other words produce a controlled expiry of the individual subject. It does leave trace evidence of the antidote in most cases, but fear not, that can itself be blended into body discolouration by a complex organic chemical which happens to be blue. Therein lies another element of surprise, the repeated freezing and thawing of tissue after death is crucial to creating the illusion of natural causes, manna from heaven for terrorists. This information is only really helpful to you if you have a perpetrator who has this knowledge and expertise. How many of those are there in the country? Now before you get too excited, the reason this is off the record is because we can't tell you in an official capacity. You must appreciate our dilemma, this knowledge is highly sensitive and it is explained to you in general terms, there is no reference to a particular venom, antidote, or the species of the subject. The person from whom we were informed about this was herself dismissed from office because of a leak of intellectual property to another research lab. A charge she says she had no part in whatsoever. Therefore, Robert, we could only claim, if the case was de-mothballed, that we conducted our own tests on a specific spider venom, the stated genus of antidote, and the subject being a nominated member of the human race. All of this may come to nothing, and it would be a pity if such knowledge were lost to either pathology or forensic science. Right, then, we didn't have this conversation."

"Sorry, Hugh, I have this awful cough, did you say something?"

Kane felt he couldn't let Hugh know of the third death yet, even though there was cursory confirmation of a blue patch on the body. What Hugh had just told him had to be respected, at least for the time being, otherwise it would seem like he'd betrayed the man's disclosure. He would keep distance between what he and Alice were up to, unless the whole case was officially reopened. He was beginning to look forward to the seminar, happy with the prospect of being there and for once having no desire to be devil's advocate. Knox would be pleased.

The call came back from Northsea, and they leapt at the option of handing over informing the family of a man purportedly by the name of Daniel Hutchinson, that he was deceased. The written confirmation arrived by fax within minutes and was quite lengthy, noting that the jurisdiction discussion was not being conceded, and that it would be discussed in due course. It did smell a little of Northsea being, like Winfield Bridge, short on experienced CID staff.

"Put that somewhere safe, Alice. We need it as a parachute if your undercover source gets compromised. This job used to be simple back in the day. Ok, you wanted a nice Italian meal; name the place and time, and I'll book it on an evening during the seminar so we don't have to entertain the Rasputins of our country's law enforcement principles."

# Chapter 11

It had to happen, it was just a matter of when. The media got their teeth into the Northsea incident, more because of what seemed like an information clampdown than any dispute with the little they had been told. These hacks were very resourceful when confronted with the whiff of information lockdown. Their nostrils flared at the scent of blood and it usually became a one way street.

One particular headline infuriated Knox.

' **Newcastle man mysteriously dies and the city police force know nothing about it'**.

He blew a valve when he realised neither Kane nor Alice were at the station. "Where the hell are they, Reggie?"

"I believe they went to inform the family of this Northsea man's death, sir. They said you knew about this."

"Oh yes, it must have slipped my mind. Can you get them on the two way system?"

"I can try, just give me a minute."

It was Alice who responded, telling Reggie they were on their way back and they should be there in about ten minutes as there was a traffic accident, and they were taking a detour. Knox turned to the stairs, but Reggie threw a question at him. "Sir, these press people are congregating in the car park and getting pretty hostile. I have three officers out there, is there anything else you want me to do? They are demanding to speak to someone in authority."

That word _authority_ always snared Knox in one way or another.

"It's not a problem, Reggie, I'll take care of it."

Knox made for the main door despite Reggie trying to tell him it wasn't a good idea. "Better to let my officers choose a representative number of them to come inside, where we'd have better control."

"These people won't have that, Reggie, the ones not chosen will just make things worse. For them it's all about getting a scoop before print deadlines. It'll be fine."

Knox's grooming to become Superintendent had not majored on handling inflammatory verbal exchanges. He had become used to subordinates being respectful if not polite. He was so sure of his ground that he didn't bother to retrieve his jacket with all the decorative paraphernalia indicating his rank. The baying hounds thought they'd been sent some minion with a message so vague it actually meant no comment. It wasn't really a scuffle which followed, rather an incensed reaction to ill-chosen rhetoric which saw the ever increasing numbers surge uncontrollably through the open car park gates. Knox, one uniformed officer, and several journalists were upended and received minor wounds. Reggie called in all units, whether they were foot patrols or squad cars, and proceeded to ask for ambulance service with extreme urgency.

Kane and Alice arrived in the midst of the rugby scrum, and pushed their way around the perimeter. Kane climbed on to a low wall and banged a dustbin lid deafeningly. Reggie threw him a loud hailer and Kane spoke calmly and slowly. "Everyone who is not part of the police force must evacuate the car park. I am DCI Kane and I will be able to let journalists hear exactly what is known to us about this incident. I will not begin until the paramedics arrive and treat the injured, and in the meantime some of you who were pushing from the rear may be charged with affray. This behaviour has caused injury to both police personnel and press representatives. I'm going to begin by taking statements, accompanied by DS Baxter and other staff deployed by the desk sergeant."

It all went quiet, followed by a noticeable drift away of journalists from the rear. It quickly turned into a scramble to get away from what could become a smear on their publication's reputation rather than the scoop they were seeking. A handful of known and respected journalists remained and the ambulance arrived. Knox wasn't badly hurt, suffering more damage to his image than his portly frame. The young police officer had two broken fingers, presumably trodden on, and four journalists had cuts, bruises and broken cameras. No doubt they would report the more unruly individuals with equal criticism to that of the police Superintendent.

*

With all the commotion in the car park, the visit to Daniel Hutchinson's apartment had been temporarily dislodged from Kane's memory. It was Alice who brought it up again. "So, they weren't married. Melanie struck me as an unsympathetic woman."

"Unsympathetic to what?" asked Kane.

"I don't mean to anything specific, she comes across as detached, seeing things through a filter. She wasn't broken up about the probability that her boyfriend could have lost his life. She deals with things, at least not reacting emotionally. When we asked about Daniel's next of kin because they should be told, it hadn't even occurred to her. It was the same when we asked if she would go to Northsea to view the body and say if it was her boyfriend. She just said she'd have to check if she had to cancel any arrangements she'd made. Didn't you think she was a bit weird?"

"I suppose," admitted Kane, "I must have put it down to nerves. People do react differently to police, Alice."

"I know, but she couldn't tell us how old Daniel is or was. She couldn't remember when she last saw him, saying it might have been a week ago, because she didn't live there all of the time. When I pressed her on that she shrugged her shoulders then said they both worked away a lot so she often stayed with her sister."

"Ah, I see where you're going, you think she was on something."

Alice frowned before responding. "Hallelujah, she wasn't really in the room with us, guv. What she told us is of no use. That's why I said she had to come to the station tomorrow to make a formal statement, including the names and address of Daniel's parents. You had something on your mind, you usually pick up on things like this."

"You know me so well. While you were questioning her, I noticed a photograph on the mantelpiece. It looked like a social gathering. About a dozen men on a drinking session. I thought one of them was familiar but I didn't know why, you know, not the person you think it could be, but somebody that looked like them. I couldn't concentrate on what you were asking her. I'd like to see that photo again, maybe it had a date on it. That's it! That's what I couldn't fathom. It was probably a younger version of the person I was thinking of, but exactly who I can't bloody well bring to mind. Forget it, Alice, it probably means nothing. Yes, she was spaced out, and we'll give her something to worry about when she comes in tomorrow."

*

Knox had been ordered to see the Chief Constable. He knew it wasn't one of those invitations during which he'd be asked if he'd like to attend along with other senior officers. An afternoon at the racecourse, a few glasses of bubbly, the odd wager, and most importantly, agreeing to some way of diverting attention from some awkward situation the constabulary found itself embroiled in. He steeled himself for an almighty dressing down. The worst part being that DCI Kane had to be present.

"Superintendent, I was in suspended disbelief when informed of events supposedly under your command. As you know, I never take things at face value until I've had the opportunity to check the facts." A cleverly constructed lie which wouldn't invite challenge.

"Of course, sir. I imagine you're referring to the shambolic behaviour of a section of the media at the station."

"Well, that's part of it, most definitely, however, we need to back up a little. Am I right in thinking that the media were told we knew nothing about the incident at Northsea and we asked them to leave?"

"Well. I believe that..."

"I'm afraid the time has passed for what you might believe, I got you here to establish the facts."

Knox looked in desperation to Kane, but the Chief Constable checkmated that move. "We'll get to DCI Kane when appropriate, not before. Good god, man, this headline was already out on the street. We should have been looking to defuse the allegation in that rag, not inflame the rest of the press into overwhelming the station. I took the precautionary step of speaking with your desk sergeant, who was first in line during the confrontation. He was trying to defend everyone at the station, but finally admitted, when I pressed for every detail, that you took it upon yourself to step outside unaccompanied. Is that correct?"

"It was getting ugly, sir. Something had to be done and quickly."

"Of course, but stepping into a cauldron tends to get one scalded, especially when you were without your emblem of seniority, your superintendent's jacket. Surely, you should have realised that your face wasn't as familiar to them as that of Alan Shearer?"

"In hindsight I..."

"We can't always be judged transparently if we rely upon hindsight. Now, if we can move on, and bearing in mind there may still be jurisdiction issues with the Northsea incident, I've heard whispers that there are some similarities with previous unexplained deaths under jurisdiction of the Edenwell force. That is why I invited DCI Kane to attend with you. I have to raise this now in order to anticipate how the media will react to such speculation. Can we first deal with why we got involved with Edenwell but have apparently not followed through?"

Knox glanced at Kane for a second time, inviting him to elucidate his account first.

"No, no, Superintendent, I'd rather acknowledge rank than put words in the mouth of one's subordinates."

"Yes, of course, so, I took the decision to reduce resource on those two deaths, for one reason only. There was a lot of circumstantial information which logically link the incidents, yet it is mostly rooted in opinion rather than hard evidence, albeit expert opinion. I couldn't justify involving the CPS without more consolidation of factual material. We all know that poorly presented cases lead to doubt, which itself assists the defence."

"That would seem reasonable, and has your position changed with these whispers I referred to regarding the Northsea death?"

"Subject to more specificity with respect to cause of death and modus operandi, maybe."

The Chief Constable then turned to DCI Kane.

"Are you completely on board with Superintendent Knox's summary of where we stand on this, purely and simply as the investigating officer with the most direct involvement in all three deaths?"

Kane was flying by the seat of his pants, but desperately wanted to grasp the nettle. "As far as the Edenwell cases are concerned, I agree that the links are generic rather than statistically compelling. And we would definitely need to work on that before involving the CPS. I view the Northsea situation as very important if the whispers you mention can be substantiated. Overall, I do have concerns that if such generic links fit with the other two, we may be looking at only the beginning of further similar unexplained incidents. What would the media make of that? I don't even want to think about it."

The Chief nodded. "I tend to agree. We must prepare for that possibility even if we turn out to be wrong. Superintendent?"

"Yes, sir. However, resource would have to be beefed up considerably."

Kane interjected. "That would be essential, but only makes sense if and when jurisdiction issues are addressed first."

"I was coming to that," acknowledged the Chief, as Knox remained silent, "too many cooks and all that it brings. I'll clear this with Northsea and Edenwell. Unless you hear to the contrary, DCI Kane, you will reopen the first two cases and add in authority to take over the third. And I want you to brief me regularly on all three cases. By the way, well done in defusing the anger in the station car park. So, are you comfortable with this, Knox?"

"Absolutely. I'll see to it that DCI Kane has the tools to oversee the way forward."

# Chapter 12

The Chief Constable was as good as his word insofar as all three incidents were now to be headed up by DCI Kane and the Newcastle force. There were strings attached. If further new cases arose, additional expertise would be drafted in to help. Kane knew that this meant national oversight of the situation, not regional sticking plasters in the form of more of the same methodology.

Kane had inherited leadership of the investigation and in practice, if not in rank, freedom from Knox's interference. He was under no illusions, he had to succeed or face calls to go quietly. The Chief Constable hadn't done this because he was particularly impressed with Kane's record, it was carefully sculptured as a self-preserving stop gap in the event of more incidents occurring.

One of Kane's first actions was to re-assign Weaver to the investigation. This was followed up by a visit to Jenny and Hugh, in that order. "Jenny, you didn't get back to me with whatever you found regarding that torn patch of workwear from the first incident. The cloth with a button attached."

"Oh, yes. Sorry about that, it wasn't of much interest. The textile itself was from China, but there are hundreds of outlets where it could have been sold in the UK. There were DNA traces, but no matches."

"Right, that can be eliminated from the evidence board then." He moved on to Hugh.

"Good morning, I still haven't received the autopsy report on the second victim, Steven Bainbridge. I asked for it in writing."

"What? I'm sure I left it on your desk some while ago. Never mind, I have another copy you can take. Nothing remarkable from the medical side. I discovered a fountain pen in the back pocket of his trousers which I passed to Jenny. She reported that it had his own and another person's DNA on it. She checked it out with the database, but nothing came up."

"I see," muttered Kane as he walked away, then turned about face, "wait a second, did you cross reference it with the DNA Jenny found on the patch of workwear? Come on, Hugh, do you never think outside the box?"

"I had no idea she found any DNA on a piece of evidence I hadn't been told about. Perhaps you could point your finger at her, as she definitely knew I was doing the autopsy on Steven Bainbridge."

Kane was almost apoplectic but held back. "Well, you know now. Can the two of you either join the dots or rule out both the patch and the autopsy as having the same DNA? Now that we have a possible third victim we have to check every avenue of links between them. I want the definitive answer by later today."

*

Kane handed the keys to Steven Bainbridge's cottage to Alice. "The warrant came in this morning. Take Weaver and check the whole place over. Look for anything which could have DNA from more than one person, such as wine glasses, towels, hair and toothbrushes."

"I thought you wanted me to get that photograph from Daniel Hutchinson's apartment. The one you thought had a familiar face in a group of men."

"I did, yes, well forget that, I'll check that out myself. If his girlfriend isn't there, I'll have to find some way to get access."

"Jesus, boss, be careful. You've only just been put in charge again. Why not send uniform first to see if she's there? And if not, get a bloody warrant like you did for these keys. Do it by the book. Anyway, have you arranged for the Northsea body to come here?"

"Yes, yes, it's all in hand. It...no, we...sorry, I shouldn't refer to him as 'it'. That's so impersonal, Daniel is on his way now. We need to get used to calling these poor bastards by their names instead of referring to them as slabs of meat."

*

The press could always be relied upon to create stories focussing on certain denials. This question had been asked after the body of Steven Bainbridge had been belatedly examined. 'Could the connection between the two bodies found so close together be a virus of some kind'? When told it was unlikely, and then a vacuum of information followed, the subject was employed to generate copy sales by sensationalism. The latest being – 'Police cannot rule out viral infection with bodies discovered in Winfield Bridge and Blackford. Will the Northsea case confirm this'?

Kane was having difficulty ignoring this irresponsibility when Knox appeared. "I hope you haven't forgotten about the seminar, Robert. I'm sure the Chief Constable would be disappointed if he didn't see you there, you know, taking advantage of new ways of tackling cases such as the one he put under your command."

'You conniving bastard', thought Kane, but said, "I wouldn't miss it, even though we're so busy, sir. I'm keenly anticipating how the various speakers can ignite the curiosity of DS Baxter and myself, we could really use an injection of impetus."

*

When Alice and Weaver arrived at Steven Bainbridge's cottage, they looked at one another, wondering why anyone would want to live there.

Weaver couldn't resist a jibe. "Ebdene itself is a small village, but this place is beyond the outskirts of a road to nowhere. It's more like a barn than a cottage."

"Nobody would know you're a city boy, David. But I must admit, I'd have to be pretty depressed to live here on my own. Come on, let's get this over with."

The place was no more appealing inside. Dampness had spread up most of the walls, creating a nauseating smell. What furniture there was could easily have come from auction rooms, and several water stains on the ceilings indicated the roof needed replacing. No pictures hanging on the walls. No television, central heating, or even a radio. A blackened fireplace readied with logs, and dripping taps provoked further comments from Weaver. "I feel uncomfortable in this place, what is it we're looking for?"

Alice shook her head. "Beats me, let's just check the drawers and wardrobes and get the hell out of here. I really can't see how Steven chose to live here on his own, he was immaculately dressed when he was found."

She rifled through the drawers while Weaver took the wardrobe. Amongst an untidy pile of bills Alice stared at a photo. Unless she was mistaken, it was the same as the one on display at Daniel Hutchinson's apartment. "Come on, Weaver, I think we've got what we need for now. Lock the door while I reverse the car off the track on to the road."

"What is it you found?"

"Hopefully we'll find out when we show this photo to the boss."

*

Kane was on his way to Daniel Hutchinson's apartment after being told by the uniformed officer that the dead man's girlfriend was there. He'd asked the officer to stay there until he arrived.

"Thanks for your help, young man. You can go back to the station now. I can take it from here."

He buzzed the intercom and she let him into the foyer. As he climbed the stairs, rather than using the lift, there was the faintest hint of cannabis. Alice was right, this lady or someone else was taking a trip. It got stronger as Kane approached the door and pressed the bell push.

"Come in, but I can't stay too long. I've got an appointment with my hairdresser."

"You might even have an appointment with the police if you don't kick your habit. And before you deny being on cannabis, I'm not here about that. However, if I find out you're selling it you'll be in deep trouble. Now, what I really wanted to know about is that photo on the mantelpiece. What can you tell me?"

"Nothing. It's always been there, I never asked about it, well not really. I said it ruined the theme of the décor, but Daniel said it was an old school reunion picture."

"Ah, can I take a look at the back to see if there's anything of interest?"

"You can take the bloody thing away, it would be doing me a favour because I was going to throw it in the trash."

"Good, now I'd also like to take a toothbrush which only Daniel used, or something else for DNA checks."

"Help yourself, do you need mine as well?"

"Not really, but it won't do any harm. Give me both but mark which one is his."

He left after giving her another lecture about cannabis and she promised to get off the stuff. He knew it was an empty promise.

# Chapter 13

The fanfare was upon them. The only thing missing was the red carpet. Each speaker in the seminar was introduced by name and the string of qualifications, accolades, and awards they'd accumulated so far.

Kane and Alice were subliminally salivating at the prospect of two full days basking in the world of people with whom gravity had less effect than the norm. They both applauded every preening individual as they walked to their respective podia.

Knox had the privilege of sitting next to Alice, something Kane was pleased about. "Good morning," said Knox, "you're looking very dapper, DCI Kane. Glad to see you making the effort."

"Thank you, sir." lied Kane, "I have Alice to thank for suggesting I should brush up my image. I suppose I suffer from a form of colour blindness, peculiar to my attire. I understood that these gurus were here to impress **us** , but DS Baxter pointed out the error of my judgement."

Alice kicked his leg as she smiled at Knox.

The proceedings were about to begin. Kane wondered how much this horse and pony show would cost. The hotel was known to be eye-wateringly up market. There must have been at least ten hotel staff fussing about preparing electronic slide facilities or refreshments. The deep, beautifully ornate cornice was also indicative of money being no object.

First up was a man from the Metropolitan Police Authority. Gerald Whittaker had been educated at a private school and managed to skip a few ranks because of his pinnacle qualifications in the study of criminology. Later in his rise to fame, streamlining data from paper to silicon chips became his forte. He babbled on, in Kane's opinion for far too long, about what was coming down the pipeline in the next few years. From 'informed search techniques' through 'voice command' cascade logic to 'robotic delegation' tasking. Lunch break was the oasis the audience craved. The afternoon was dedicated to profiling. Two speakers were allotted ninety minutes apiece. The small stature of Noel Vickers didn't allow him to see everyone in the audience over the lectern. The poor guy had to request a height assist before being told that the lectern was adjustable. He obviously hadn't worshipped at the altar of DIY. His presentation was confusing to Kane, but when it was over, Knox explained that it was 'nuanced' to accommodate flexible interpretation.

"Ah, yes, I forgot about that. It's not supposed to be a sharp tool, more a sheet of sandpaper, chamfering and teasing away at the evidence to shape a broader road map to investigation."

He kicked Alice's leg this time, mouthing 'deuce'.

He wondered how much of this he could take. The coffee break provided enough stimulant to avert him from losing all concentration. His father had often used the expression 'you only get one chance to make a first impression'. The next speaker stood patiently waiting for the background muttering to subside.

"All branches of police work have their own priorities. Today, I've been asked to focus on homicide. So, I want this presentation to be interactive from the outset. If I'm talking about things of low relevance to anyone in the audience, I'll genuinely not feel insulted if they politely go back to their work. There's little point in wasting your time or mine."

There was a contrived rustle of laughter. Kane and Alice weren't part of it.

"I see my work as likened to a sculptor. I have to address the specific requirements of the investigation as if it is my ball of clay. Moulding it to an agreed shape is the first step. My final act should be to leave the product of my recommendations with the investigating team to consider. I will only have succeeded in my task if there is hunger to follow what has been achieved together. I rarely stay with the team until arrests are made and charges are being mooted. If I do have to stay as long as that, I've not achieved the objective."

She continued with a litany of examples of her work, many of which Kane had read about. He'd never known she'd been a critical presence in those cases, because he'd never heard her name mentioned. Laura Francis would become a name he'd never forget.

When Laura had come to the end of her presentation, Kane turned to Alice and raised his eyebrows; she responded by nodding very deliberately.

"Well, DS Baxter, tonight's your treat at the Italian restaurant you selected. Would it spoil the atmosphere if we invited this woman?"

"Do I detect some hormones getting up to speed?"

"God, I wish. It's not easy for me to confess that a profiler impressed me, but it's your show tonight. Let's leave it."

Alice was struck by his opening of the mind, it was like he'd had an epiphany. She felt the same way about Laura Francis and was sure it would be better talking with her than having someone connected to the Met being foisted on them.

"No, it's ok, I'd like to hear what she has to say about our case, and that would be better done without any eavesdropping from this seminar. Go ahead, ask her, it would make a change from perpetually listening to what you have to say."

Kane approached her while she was packing up her slides and other paraphernalia. He came straight to the point, half expecting a rebuttal, but the wide smile indicated to Alice that the evening was going to be a three way chat.

*

Going back to tidy up the office, Kane and Alice had a short catch up session which was interrupted by Jenny.

"It seems you were right, Hugh and I wish to apologise unreservedly. The second DNA on Steven Bainbridge's fountain pen is a match for that I recovered from the dark blue workwear."

"Well, I can't leap up and down claiming I knew that would be the case, but I am disappointed that you and Hugh aren't working in tandem anywhere near enough. If you'd been keeping one another up to date on what you were doing, I'm sure one of you would have wondered if these two pieces of evidence could have something in common."

"I can't argue with that, it's why I'm here apologising. Hugh passed the pen to one of my assistants in my absence and he gave the result back to Hugh, who bears no blame in this."

"Fair enough, Jenny. Put this behind you, we can all learn from it. So, I have a toothbrush belonging to the third victim, Daniel Hutchinson, I'd like that checked out for DNA, and it's urgent."

"Right, I'll run it myself."

As Jenny left, Alice ran her fingers through her hair, prefacing a strange remark. "Twice in an hour. Have you been to a hypnotist? If I was a keen gambler I'd have lost a fortune betting on you being receptive to two women who'd normally have been treated to the cynicism of Inspector Kane. One screwing up on precious evidence, the other espousing profiling as a science rather than a polished up séance for pagans like us."

"Good analogy, Alice. Which brings me to the photograph you brought back from Steven Bainbridge's cottage. I just happen to have the same one from Daniel Hutchinson's apartment, his girlfriend wanted rid of it. You were right about the girlfriend, she more or less admitted to using cannabis, then kindly gave me the photo together with that toothbrush I gave to Jenny. She also told me the group of men were from a school reunion years ago. Look what's on the back – Blackford Grammar Class of 1989. They knew each other at some time. This might prove to be the most crucial clue we've found so far."

"Bloody Norah, there's a pretty good chance the perpetrator is on that picture."

"Maybe, and possibly more victims just waiting to be delivered. Now do you see why I wanted a private word with Laura Francis?"

"Aha, you can always pull the wool over my eyes, but not completely. You do fancy her don't you? Having me there is insurance against a hopeless romantic like yourself."

"Nonsense. As she said in her presentation, she does a flit before the final countdown of any investigation. That was the clincher for me. I'm going to ask the Chief Constable to offer her a consultancy role with us."

Alice's spirits were lifted by his new found demeanour, having been truly concerned about his confession regarding Perry Dunston that evening on the Tyne Bridge.

*

They'd all got their orders placed and agreed on a freshly decanted Barolo. Laura looked around the place and remarked about the crisp, clean yet classically accentuated décor. It transpired that she had most of her clients in France. The British were less willing to take a step into something which had not yet 'erased the blemishes from its reputation'. She thought this had its roots in temperament rather than discernment. The small talk prevailed over the meal and then Kane suddenly switched the dialogue to serial killers.

"I'd like to run a case of ours by you briefly and ask what you make of it."

"You want my opinion for free, Inspector?"

"I would if it was offered, but I'm just trying to establish whether it would qualify to be considered as one of your balls of clay you mentioned this afternoon. Wouldn't you agree, Alice?"

"Uh, absolutely. If Laura thought there was enough information to work with. And I deliberately said information, not hard evidence. Then I'm sure we could get authorisation to discuss some kind of consultancy. Of course that depends on your existing workload, Laura."

They agreed to sleep on such a proposal and talk again in the morning.

*

Weaver was despatched to Blackford Grammar school. His remit was strictly to obtain as much information about this class of 1989 as he could under the guise of tracing a missing person. He would not bring up or acknowledge any reference to the three victims so far. He was only to express interest in a list of names for the entire class. The main plank of this inquiry was to establish which year group it was. The logic was that the scribble on the back of the photo could have come into being at some time after the six years the class was at the school, as it was a reunion. Accounting for pupils moving up or down from year to year, leaving the area, being expelled, or any other reason could wait.

Weaver didn't let the side down. That particular class attended the school from 1982 to 1988. The scribbling on the photo was therefore assumed to be a label which only applied to those who'd attended their first reunion party.

He made his way back to the station and took it upon himself to start digging into the list of names. He'd either risk the wrath of DCI Kane or be praised for being proactive. He reasoned that both Kane and Alice were still attending the seminar, and that the clock was still ticking on the case. That would be _his_ case for the defence if he was faced with a reprimand.

Finally, the seminar was wound up. Kane had taken the lunch break to canvass the Chief Constable about Laura Francis. He hit pay dirt, the man was impressed with the idea, and it also provided a buffer against any rising criticism that not enough expertise had been rolled out to expose this killer.

The scene was set to begin modelling Laura's ball of clay. They started to lay out the entire disjointed information but only got so far.

"Excuse me, but this isn't what I need to make the first judgement. We are only looking at confirmation or rejection of whether this is the work of a serial killer, not who it may be. Think of it as building a picture, not eliminating aspects for now. Distractions at this juncture may actually become crucially important in the next phase. When we are looking at diagnosis of a disease that is the first step – to confirm or not. The next step is how to treat it. With surgery or medication, physiotherapy or quarantine. We have to know the size of the ballpark. Can I illustrate this by asking you for information rather than you providing me with it?"

Alice gave it a vigorous thumbs up. Kane's approval was more muted, largely coloured by him not being used to thinking in such an abstract compartmentalised manner.

# Chapter 14

After a long spell of no contribution from Kane, Alice and Weaver, Laura finally concluded her furious scribbling and moving of the various pieces of data into different categories.

"Now it's a little clearer in my head, so we can begin. The first question I have relates to incident number one. Is it absolutely beyond doubt that there was no form of identification with his remains?"

The answer was in the affirmative.

"And no such items were found during the search of the area surrounding the precise location where the remains were found?"

Again, unanimous acceptance.

"In the time from the discovery of the body to the present, has anything surfaced which could point to his name, occupation, or where he was living?"

Kane was already getting restless, and received an elbow to the ribs from Alice, who replied. "No, we know absolutely nothing about the guy other than guesstimates of age, and his health condition when he was alive. We don't even have an accurate cause or time of death."

"Fine, so we can now establish something important which we will undoubtedly keep returning to. This unknown person is more important to the perpetrator than the other two."

Weaver raised his hand. "How can you know that?"

"From what you've shown me, I can say that it checks some of the boxes which would indicate we're dealing with a serial killer. So, in working with that assumption, the perpetrator would normally have removed any ID from all victims or none of them. In my experience, if the second and third bodies have ID on them the killer is deliberately giving you a head start with those murders, and doesn't want to reveal the identity of someone much closer to themselves. If we find any boxes can't be ticked because of solid evidence, we may have to review our standpoint that the killings are the work of just one person."

Alice asked why she was avoiding the use of personal pronouns when referring to the culprit. "Does this mean you're ruling out the perpetrator being female?"

Laura looked a little frustrated but answered.

"Not for definite, but what took me so long to set up my matrix of approach to the case was because I have to leave room for one exceptional situation in which there is more than one offender involved. For a single killer I'd be very surprised if it was a woman. But we can't yet exclude proxy killings, in which a woman could have influence over a male executioner. Can I say that these questions are relevant, but will cloud things if they aren't held back for now. I'm just trying to configure our ball of clay in terms of size, shape and consistency. I realise you haven't worked with profilers before, but you'll have an abundance of opportunities to say my method isn't working for you. In fact, if I hadn't concluded we have sufficient data to strongly suspect one or more serial killers here, I'd have already declined to go any further."

Kane assured her they would note down any further questions for the next or appropriate phase.

"Now, what I really want to highlight is the crucial value of recent evidence you've found. The two photographs which I'm told are from a school reunion, and therefore link Steven and Daniel to the same class in the same school, are the highest priority at this time. There is a high probability that victim one is also connected but not necessarily in the same way. It might be a teacher rather than a pupil or some other relationship. The point being that if I'm correct, it reinforces belief that he was more important than the others, and that could even be the only reason for killing him. If we can find more details from anyone connected to the school at that time it would really help. That's where we should refocus, bearing in mind that the killer or killers will normally be trying to put things in our mind which disguise what is in their mind. They want their story acted out the way they see it. Can we throw all our efforts behind this immediately?"

"Well, that's a bit of luck, Laura," muttered Kane, "DC Weaver took it upon himself to begin checking through the list of names in that class. I wasn't getting my hopes up as there were thirty students in that class and I..."

"Thirty-one, sir," said Weaver, "I found that one had died abroad two years ago, and I took his name off the list because he couldn't have been involved in killing any of our victims."

"Ok, but you never mentioned this to me? So, it is thirty then."

"Hold it right there," interjected Laura, "he may not have been involved in the killings, but could still be part of the reason for them. I doubt it but we have to keep it in mind. I'm sure we'll know pretty soon. So, Inspector, can we go through everything David has found about this list of names while we're together?"

"Sure. Well, you heard Weaver, go for it."

David Weaver wasn't a nervous person but Laura Francis had already demonstrated her formidable capacity to probe data, with surgical dismissal of what she considered irrelevant at the present time. This was likely to be such a moment.

"I haven't had time to put any of this stuff into categories or prioritisation recommendations, it's just raw data. Firstly, of the thirty there were seventeen males and thirteen females. Twelve of those boys specialised in science subjects and the others in various forms of the arts. The picture was different for the girls. Two braved the testosterone biased science group, whereas eleven went for arts and particularly languages. The school had incentivised awards for outstanding performance. The records of these awards seemed incomplete, but what I could see was they were heavily skewed to the females. When I put this to the headmistress by phone, she explained that the discrepancy was due to an ongoing argument amongst staff as to how standards were not really transferable across the curriculum. The most vitriolic protests coming from judging sporting prowess alongside exam results. The teachers responsible for sporting assessment made the argument that it was affected by the standard of opposition, unlike the exams whose results were always compared to a set standard. In athletics or team games the relative performance of the victors and the defeated could not be ignored. The performance of a team winning a match by a huge margin could actually be a modest performance if the defeated side was mediocre at best. I found this conversation strange and quite frankly wished I'd never asked about it, until she said something even more confusing. They abandoned these incentives when someone in the class of 1989, which was actually a misnomer, committed suicide just after they'd left school the previous year. Apparently it wasn't just the pupils who were at each other's throats, so were some of the teachers. I asked what kind of incentives would cause such an uproar, and she blandly said there was a deep rooted bullying culture at the school going back almost a decade. The incentives were mere trinkets in material terms but fiercely contested because they were part of the currency of becoming house captain, head boy or girl, prefects and so on. These posts in themselves came with additional privileges. All of this good intent had been subject to manipulation and that's where the teaching staff became embroiled in the cause and effect. Head of science, arts, sport etc. The current headmistress was brought in following the early retirement of her predecessor. I think that's why she was less sensitive to my questions than other teachers. She's absolutely convinced that this all got out of hand when the class of 1989 only had females in the roles which represented overall achievement – head girl, and house captain. None of the boys even made it to prefect level. A recipe for disaster she called it. Now, I couldn't really process this so I switched back to the suicide and then the headmistress began to back off. She said it was an avoidable tragedy. When I pressed her further she merely said it was covered in detail by the press at the time and cut me off."

The others were sitting there open-mouthed, as if someone had pressed the pause button on TV. Kane threw the obvious question at him.

"You've kept this under your hat, Weaver. When the hell were you thinking of sharing this with us or writing a report for the file?"

"Haven't had the time, sir, I tried but everyone was busy with setting up for the seminar. I did type up everything I've just said, so I can give each of you a copy. Should I get them for you now?"

Laura asked him to wait. "If this is all verifiable, the next task is to look at the suicide report. It's difficult to imagine how badly wrong good intentions can turn out, but it's all down to human behaviour. Some people in some situations cannot compromise so they polarise even more. I have seen many examples of this in my time, but only one with the teaching profession. However, I suggest we take small steps now, because many teachers have gone to school, then got themselves qualifications to teach, and gone back to school. They missed out on how the rest of the world works, like a child who grew up in only one room."

Weaver went to retrieve the copies.

*

While they waited for him to return, Hugh put his head through the office door and looked apologetic. "Sorry, Inspector, didn't know you had a visitor."

Kane introduced Laura Francis and asked what he wanted to say. "She's working with us on the case now, Hugh, so Laura needs to hear what we hear."

"Very well, I'm coming to you in person to avoid our previous failure to connect the dots as you put it so eloquently. This piece of information borders on that, and raises another dimension to all of the autopsies. I couldn't help wondering about the need for the bodies to have been frozen. In researching this I may have opened a can of worms. My eye was caught by an article from a respected medical journal. It deals with what happens to human tissue if it is repeatedly frozen and thawed. I wasn't prepared for the result, so I'll merely quote what I read. 'From these studies, the overall conclusion that can be drawn is clearly telling us that one time freezing of human tissue is virtually harmless concerning the integrity of the respective tissue. Repeated freeze‐thawing, however, leads to a decline in tissue integrity with every increase in freeze‐thaw cycles. It has been postulated for some years that recurring freeze-thaw cycles had potential to damage cell structure as well as proteins or DNA/RNA, and now it has been confirmed. However, the research was extended to show that freeze-thaw cycles can damage tissue samples in several other ways. The mechanism is not yet understood sufficiently to predict precisely which properties are affected and in which order, as a function of the number of cycles and the exact below zero temperature. What can be said is that damage to tissue during freeze-thaw cycles can cause problems with downstream processes. For example, multiple rounds of freezing and thawing can damage protein structures. Experiments have indicated that this in turn can interfere with studies of protein kinetics which used surface plasmon resonance techniques. Even minor DNA damage can result in uninterpretable data'. So, Inspector, this last sentence in layman's terms roughly means that the trick of repeated in and out of the freezer can act as an electronic scrambler might on aircraft guidance systems. My autopsies and toxicology reports could all be in error if the bodies have undergone alternating freeze-thaw treatment."

"That's all we need," said Alice, "one step forward, two or more back."

Kane was speechless, so Laura spoke up. "Excuse me, are you the pathologist who posed the question I saw on the information whiteboard? The one which asked how many people in the country would have the knowledge to understand this, let alone apply it?"

"Guilty as charged."

"In that case, we have a giant leap forward, Alice, not backwards. Come on, guys, think laterally and..."

"Check if any students from the class of 1989 are employed in an organisation where such expertise is practised," volunteered Weaver, "I'll get on to it."

They'd had a fruitful day after all, yet Kane remained philosophical. He'd experienced the feeling many times – on the cusp of a breakthrough then a tiny fly alights on the ointment jar. Nevertheless, he invited all of those present, and Jenny to an up market coffee shop across the road prior to them heading off in their separate directions. "The coffee is excellent but the pastries are to die for."

# Chapter 15

It had been a long time since Kane got out of bed relishing the prospect of following up new leads. He stretched and yawned his way to the kitchen. Should he indulge in a full English breakfast? He grabbed his bulging waistline and deferred to the healthy option of Muesli, or as he had tagged it, pigeon droppings. The sun was emerging from behind drifting clouds, making him feel as if he himself was at last seeing beyond the fog.

His first thought was to let Weaver continue to run down science graduates from the class of 1989, highlighting any who'd gravitated to an occupation related to medical science. Alice was to be despatched to dig into the suicide of a student at Blackford Grammar, and the death of a former pupil two years ago. The headmistress who'd shut down her conversation with Weaver about the suicide was just the kind of challenge Alice liked. Kane would then work with Laura on other possible connections she'd thought might be relevant. The first of these were those closest to the second and third victims. Her reasoning was that this, if there was even a remote link, could help in identifying the first victim. She was really motoring on the assumption that whoever he was would unlock a cascade of evidence. She was also insistent that if there was such a link between Linda Bainbridge and Daniel Hutchinson's girlfriend, it could throw up one of two interesting scenarios.

*

"What precisely are these scenarios you envisage, Laura?" asked Kane while they were driving to speak with Linda Bainbridge.

"It's a kind of crossroads. Because I'm sure that victim number one was more important in some way than the others in the killer's mind, we need to determine whether that means hatred or devotion, it could be either. Since we have nothing else to go on, we should eliminate or look further into those closest to the second and third victims. That could be their partners or family. But if we go hurtling down that road too early and without justification, it will drag us back into the mire of evidence dislocation. Pruning of this route will allow us to take the first step into shaping our ball of clay - motive. Inspector, I know this approach isn't intuitive for you, but you always have the option to fire me."

He struggled to find the right words. "Laura, that's a bit of an understatement. I'm likening myself to a blind man in a tug of war. Pulling on the rope I get given, but the direction escapes me. I'm still on board until the rope frays."

"Nice analogy. But that's about you, not the process. It does however provoke an important question. Do you want me to interrogate Linda Bainbridge or simply intervene when I think it's appropriate?"

"I want to stay in observation mode, so go for it."

When they arrived, Linda was just about to get into her car with her daughter.

"Sorry to pester you again, Linda, but as you know we've intensified our effort in trying to find out what happened to Steven. You need answers, as do we. Can you spare us a few minutes?"

"I was just about to take Amy to see her grandmother while I run some errands. It can wait for a short while."

They entered the house and Linda told Amy to sit in the garden while they talked. Laura introduced herself and asked if Amy knew what had happened to her father.

"Yes, from her grandma, I'm not very good at that kind of thing."

"I see," remarked Laura, "is that why you asked her to leave us?"

"Yes I just thought... I don't..."

"It's ok, I just asked because we won't be posing any really intrusive questions, simply gathering information about yourself, Amy and grandma; chit-chat rather than unpleasant memories."

"I don't know, she's not coping well with the loss of her dad. I'd rather you didn't."

"That's perfectly fine. So, Steven went to Blackford Grammar school, did you?"

"Yes, that's where we first... well, you know. He was two years above me. We didn't go out together while we were at school. That was later."

"Oh right. And?"

"We both wanted to go to college, well, in my case, Steven went to University. You see it was attraction at first sight but it was too soon to make commitments like getting engaged."

"Very sensible. Can I show you a photograph in which Steven is with some of his friends?"

Linda betrayed the first signs of nervousness. "Ok."

She looked at the photo without displaying any emotion or making any comment.

"Do you recognise any of these men? Sorry, I should say boys, as they were at the time."

"I know of them because they were in Steven's class. I don't know them as friends."

Kane was mentally urging Laura on.

"Do you recognise this one?"

"Yes, he was on the same football team as Steven at one time. I never actually met him, I just saw him play together with Steven a few times."

"So were they good friends as well as team mates?"

"I wouldn't say close friends. It was just the football and these reunion parties. You know, boys will be boys."

"Yes, I certainly do. I assume you know his name was Daniel Hutchinson?"

"Yes."

"Thanks, Linda. You could save us a lot of work by giving us the names of any of the others you remember from the photo?"

"I'll try."

Armed with the list of names put to faces, they left. In the car Kane illustrated his confusion. "You had her on the ropes, why did you pull back?"

"Because I saw she was speaking with some trepidation after she looked at the picture. She wasn't going to elaborate any further. Unless I'm mistaken, Daniel Hutchinson's name hasn't yet been revealed to the public. Am I right?"

"Yes, but this witch hunt the press are conducting will eventually expose the truth. Don't forget that the Northsea force was ordered to hand over the case to us. Somebody will leak his name to the media."

"All the more reason to give Linda more rope. She's lying about something else. She needs to believe we're done with her."

*

Meanwhile, Alice had run into some resistance when attempting to interview the headmistress of Blackford Grammar. However, she opted to bypass the reliance on the usual leverage of taking her back to the station, preferring to employ feminine guile.

"Your surname is Pearson, but I wasn't given your first name. Obviously I can get it from records but I'd rather you told me yourself."

"Claire, but that won't change my stance."

"Maybe not, but at least it's a bit more civilised. Eventually, we will talk, Claire, because this is now an ongoing murder inquiry with more than one victim. The fact that two of them attended your school will in itself justify scrutiny. I genuinely recommend that you consider getting your statement out there first, because once the media interest re-ignites it will become more difficult for the school to escape their magnifying glass. That's how it works, unfortunately. So, if you do have a change of heart I'll give you my number. Bye."

"How can I trust you?"

"How can you trust me?" laughed Alice, "I'm afraid you've got your wires crossed, Claire. The burning question is how we can be expected to interpret a wall of silence as meaning this school is squeaky clean. If you think you can't trust the police, who do want the truth, you'll be eaten for breakfast by the media, they don't let the truth get in the way of sensationalism. Like I said, you have my number, sorry for wasting your time."

"Wait, now that you're here, let me make a call."

Alice could only hear one side of the conversation, which lasted almost ten minutes. She was able to gather that the other person was resisting cooperation with the police. Despite the conversation apparently going nowhere, Claire's final declaration to this person was that she'd carried someone else's baggage around for too long and she was going to extricate herself from the entire mess, even if it meant her quitting the job. After all, she wasn't here when the mess was created, and she was appointed on the solemn promise that it had been consigned to the depths of obscurity.

Claire slammed down the phone and stood up.

"Give me a minute to gather my stuff together, sergeant. I'll meet you in reception and we can talk somewhere else. There's now no alternative to me moving on. I should never have accepted the position, but one sometimes puts career ahead of discretion. I knew this day would arrive so I've already arranged interviews for better schools. I suppose I can thank you for crystallising the moral aspects of responsibility which I've been condoning. I need to tell my secretary that I have to take a few days emergency leave."

*

Weaver was making progress, in fact more than he'd anticipated. Hugh had been right insofar as government organisations involved in this branch of medical science were wary of anyone not on a list of cleared individuals. He was now confining his effort to private companies. From the twelve males in the class of 1989, all but two had gone into traditional industries such as paint companies, water treatment, electronics, and structural engineering etcetera. The remaining two were in diverse employment. Henry Sanderson was now a doctor with a private health trust in the midlands, and Raymond Crawford was involved with building oil rigs for a North Sea exploration giant.

The two female science graduates were harder to trace due to maternity breaks. Eleanor Wright had resumed her career in the pharmaceutical world and Gail Morrison had jumped tracks from adhesive manufacture to the growing need for personal computing devices.

None of them shouted from the page as having an obvious connection with neurotoxins and antidotes. Nevertheless, he underlined pharmaceuticals and private health as a start.

*

Kane and Laura couldn't get an answer to the intercom of Daniel Hutchinson's apartment. Fortunately he'd taken Alice's previous advice to seek a warrant to search the place. Until now he hadn't needed it because the girlfriend had been happy to let the police look around. Laura protested that doing so when she wasn't there could potentially alienate her and disqualify any evidence they might find from court proceedings. Also, she was the one they wanted to speak to. For once Kane ignored Laura and called the station. "Reggie, my good man. We're stuck here outside Daniel Hutchinson's apartment and the girlfriend isn't here. Can you get Weaver to call me back with her phone number? I don't seem to have it with me."

They sat in the car patiently for a few minutes until Weaver called back. "I can't find her mobile number here, boss, but there is the landline for the apartment."

"Shit. Ok, give me that number. It's worth a shot."

Kane dialled the landline but it just kept ringing. He was determined to get access and said he was going to use an unorthodox means of entry.

"No, Inspector. I won't be party to this. Can't you leave a message?"

Despite his Frustration he was about to comply. It seemed fruitless as there appeared to be nobody in the apartment, but suddenly the receiver was picked up. "He...Hell...Hello...who...?"

"It's DCI Kane. Let me in please."

"Who? I'm sleeping so... come back..."

"No, just listen please. I need to check something with you. Two minutes is all I need. If you can't let us in I have a warrant authority to gain access by other means."

Kane realised she was out of her head with some substance. "Just let me in and then you can go back to sleep."

It took several minutes before the entry buzzer was heard and they pushed open the main door to the block.

# Chapter 16

The café Claire Pearson had chosen to unburden herself was well away from Blackford. She definitely illustrated signs of nervousness, looking around the place repeatedly, presumably to make sure there was no one there who'd recognise her. She constantly fiddled with the spoon in her coffee cup, looked out of the window or anywhere else other than directly into the eyes of Alice. She finally summoned the courage to speak on one condition. Alice was invited to ask questions and Claire would decide whether or not to answer.

Alice decided to begin with innocuous probes. "We had some confusion at the station regarding the list of names in the so-called class of 1989. At first I was told there were thirty-one names, but it seems there are only thirty we could contact." She was carefully asking about something to which she already knew the answer.

Claire didn't hold back. "That would probably be Nathan Jacobson, a boy with both English and Swedish parents."

"Oh, so you knew him from this photograph?"

"Let me see. No, this was obviously taken at a time well before I came here. The list I gave your young officer was exactly that, a list. I couldn't identify any of them on this picture by their looks. The only records I had other than the list were in the form of written data such as name, date of birth, address, achievements, and things like that."

"So, is there anything more you can tell me about Nathan?"

"Not really, other than the accident which claimed his life. He was swimming when stung by a pack of jellyfish. In the Maldives I believe. Anyway, if your questions are related to the two strange local deaths recently, Nathan was already deceased."

"Indeed. So that clears up my first point. Now I have to be honest, the rest of what I'd like to ask harks back to what you mentioned to my colleague, DC Weaver. Is there some sensitivity about discussing the suicide of one of this particular year group?"

"I can only speak about what I've been told or read. You can surely appreciate that this was almost twelve years ago. I was barely a fledgling teacher then. Nobody would talk about the suicide. I found a reference to it when some disciplinary incident I was examining for precedent punishment - regarding a serious misdemeanour. I couldn't believe what I read and yet most of the staff acknowledged it was true, but would not elaborate. I tracked down my predecessor and it all began to make sense. His predecessor was dismissed for his part in obstructing the investigation of the suicide. To this day many of the staff believe it wasn't a simple suicide at all, yet the verdict stood. It at least explained why they appointed me. I taught at a school far enough away to have no knowledge of these events, so I didn't indulge in such detailed scrutiny as you are conducting right now. Everything I know about that case is hearsay."

"Pretty spooky stuff, Claire. So, what about the alleged bullying culture at that time, 1988?"

"This is the aspect of my tenure I won't go into. My predecessor retired early, by mutual agreement I understand, very convenient. I'm acutely aware of the potential of defamation of character if I were to disclose what he told me. Again it is hearsay from where I sit. If you could speak with him directly it would be an entirely different matter, but sadly he just won't discuss the issue anymore. I can say something which is not hearsay, in that he was in a perpetual state of anxiety after he left his post."

Alice could see she was unlikely to get more from Claire, but shot one last request at her. "Are you willing to tell me who you called earlier?"

"No, but I'm sure as a detective you can guess, and then seek warrants to examine archival documentation of the school, providing you have sufficient cause. Surely you can find some connection with your current investigation which can in some way justify such authorisation. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be on my way."

*

Daniel Hutchinson's girlfriend was completely wasted. She let Kane and Laura into the apartment and promptly declared she had to puke. Kane steadied her as she was off balance. "Do you mind if we take a look around again?"

"I don't mind if you shag your friend in front of me as long as I puke up this shit. Take your hands off me or it will be you that gets covered in puke. Come on, man, give me some space."

Kane turned and motioned to Laura that they should come back another day. He was surprised at her reaction.

"I think you should call the paramedics, and we wait until they take her away. You don't want to have to explain a dead girl in the apartment when your own junior officer knows we are here. We can look around after the paramedics leave."

He made the call. Kane suddenly realised he didn't know the surname of this girl. A couple of quick calls to Alice and Weaver confirmed that they didn't recollect having been given that information either. It all added up when she eventually exited the toilet and fell in the hallway. Kane managed to drag her to the living room and put her on a sofa. She giggled annoyingly until Kane's threshold of patience was breached. He slapped her face and told her to stay awake. "Who the hell do you think you are? We're here investigating the murder of your boyfriend."

"No, who do you buggers think you are? This is...hah hah...hah hah...my bloody apartment, get the fuck out."

"Wrong," insisted Kane, "it belongs to your boyfriend, Daniel Hutchinson."

"Daniel? He wishes, he's my big brother! What an arse he is. This is my apartment, he's just a freeloading bastard."

She began to drift off to sleep again despite Kane shaking her continuously. Both Laura and he were relieved to let the paramedics in. They didn't take long before simply putting her on to a stretcher and applying straps. An injection followed and the senior of the two medics took contact details after being shown Kane's warrant card. They left hurriedly as they seemed to suspect it was time critical for the girl's recovery chances. Kane and Laura sat down, looked at one another. "Would you like a cup of tea before we look around, Inspector? I'm afraid I can't comply with the girl's initial suggestion. You aren't my type."

They wandered around, pulling open drawers, checking wardrobes, thumbing through bookshelves, all in vain. Or so they thought. Laura drew Kane's attention to a picture in what they assumed was the girlfriend's bedroom.

"What about it?"

"Just wondered what strikes you about the subject of the picture."

"It's her, the junkie who almost gagged over my new suit."

"That's a new suit? Ok. Don't you think it's a little odd that she's looking backwards over her left shoulder and holding up her right thumb? Like she's saying, 'thumbs up' to something. The only thing in the background is the apartment block."

Kane shrugged his shoulders, so Laura acted on her gut feeling. Lifting the picture off the wall and turning it over revealed that something was taped to the frame. She teased the adhesive off ever so carefully and unfolded a document.

"Well, I never...hey, look at this, Inspector."

His reaction said it all. It was the legal conveyance letter for the purchase of the apartment in the name of Melanie Hutchinson.

"Seems she wasn't totally blasted when she said this was her apartment. However, it does mean we have to get into her finances."

"Why is that so important?" said Laura.

"For a start, how is she financing her habit? This is my third visit here and she's been Ga-Ga every time. There is a stench of dealing as well as using."

"Yes," replied Laura, "but how is that relevant to our case?"

"Maybe it's not, but the law is clear and I don't want us to become embroiled in a drugs hot spot investigation, so I have to report it to my boss. He can get off his arse and speak to narcotics about it. There are things about buck passing in the system that you're probably blissfully unaware of."

"And pleased about it. So, is there anything more to do here?"

Perhaps later, but I want out now, otherwise we'll get grief from the drug squad about messing with their crime scene. Take the conveyancing document, leave everything else."

*

In the meantime Alice was back at her desk when Weaver pushed his proposal under her nose.

"What exactly is this, David?"

"My way of cutting through the chaff. Unless I run into dead ends with my preferred persons of interest, we're going to waste a lot of time chasing our own tails. I can't see any of the remaining class of 1989 being remotely clued up enough to handle neurotoxin and controlled antidote procedures as the pathologist outlined to us. I've asterisked four possibilities, interestingly two men and two women. If Hugh is right, then I'd go straight for the two I've highlighted in red."

"If you're concerned about wasting time, why two? Why not just one?"

"I was about to do exactly that, then I remembered the profiler saying we couldn't rule out proxy killing just yet. A woman having influence over a male for some reason. That struck a chord with me. Remember my first chat with the headmistress at Blackford Grammar? She backed off when I tried to squeeze her for more information on the bullying culture at the school."

"Good call, David. In fact she gave me a hint in that regard. Apparently her predecessor was farmed out to early retirement because of that culture. So, I have to find out why. I'd go with your hunch before bothering the boss about it. He seems to be under Laura's spell at the moment. It won't last. Anyway, tell me about the two you've highlighted."

"Right, well, this one – Henry Sanderson is a doctor in the midlands, according to one health database he works for a private trust. This might mean he has less security restrictions than similar specialists in the NHS. Working in that region would make it difficult for him to carry out meticulously planned homicides in the northeast. The other one, Eleanor Wright is employed in the pharmaceutical industry here in our region. She's had time out of work during her pregnancy, but as yet I can't say whether she's actually married. She would be the one I'd go for right now."

"Can't fault your logic. So, when you've had a chance to do that, I'd like your help with putting names of that infamous class to individuals on the photograph. We did get some from Linda Bainbridge, who was two years lower, but understandably she couldn't bring them all to mind. We need them all and we need them now."

"No problem. In fact I've already checked out some and made a separate sheet with name and face of the ones she could recall. Sadly neither of my targets are in her picks."

"Strange. Ok, don't let that slow you down. The boss and Laura think she's holding something back. Could she have deliberately mismatched them?"

"Bollocks. That one got past me. It makes me more determined to pursue my two main candidates."

"Funnily enough, I've always had a hunch there was something which didn't fit with Linda's story that her husband had an affair, moved out but regrets it, and you've seen that shithole cottage she claims he lived in. It doesn't sit easy with me because his corpse was immaculately dressed. Him living and sleeping in that hovel? Until that incompatibility is explained to me, I consider her to be an unreliable witness who could have her own agenda."

# Chapter 17

While Kane was updating Superintendent Knox about Melanie Hutchinson's drug den, Laura began creating the first template of significance from her clay ball. In reality it was as she had stressed, a very small step. It was beginning to shape up like a teardrop in her mind, but she had to transmute her own mental acrobatics to familiar language for the team. She steadfastly refused to be drawn away from the first victim, despite the accumulating positive evidence on the other two. Just following the latest discovery would, in her experience, ultimately drag them backwards, dancing to the perpetrator's tune.

Whilst the Steven Bainbridge and Daniel Hutchinson deaths were most definitely secondary in terms of the overall motive, she nevertheless accepted that they could still offer major clues as to who Mr X was.

"That's Knox out of our hair," beamed Kane, "he's totally pissed off about Melanie Hutchinson and the drugs, so what's going on here, Laura?"

"I won't be long, I need a few more minutes to finish this."

Alice and Weaver joined them and pulled Kane to one side. "Show him what you've got, David, just the short version."

"Ok. It's not too hopeful yet, sir but I've been in touch with an Eleanor Wright, who works at a pharmaceutical plant in Greystone. I tiptoed around why we were interested in pharmacology, and then she said I'd have to be more specific in what I was looking for. Before I could come up with some way of avoiding the words neurotoxin and antidote, she jumped in and said, 'It's not about these deaths in Blackford, is it'? I backed off, trying to switch the conversation to the Northsea incident. She astonished me by then saying 'Officer, I went to school there, if it's about the suicide, I've been questioned about that several times and I'm done with it. That was over ten years ago, and I won't waste any more of my time on it. Goodbye'. So, I'm sure she knows more, but I might have blown our chance to get her to open up."

"Chin up, Weaver, we all drop the ball every once in a while. Just learn from it." Alice couldn't believe what she was hearing, muttering under her breath that her boss must be feeling unwell.

While all this speculation over Eleanor Wright was being debated as to its priority, Laura was finessing how she would suggest an abrupt refocussing of resource. She asked them to gather around the whiteboard.

"What I'm about to say is no more than an invitation to discuss how we can channel our efforts in the most productive manner. I'm going to begin the analysis with a provocative prediction with which I'm sure you will take issue. Nevertheless, it will serve as a reminder that this case has been on the books for over six months, including a fallow period you called mothballing. So, how do you think this is interpreted by our perpetrator(s)? Any suggestions?"

Alice instinctively volunteered that he, she or they would be riding a wave of confidence that the police investigation was going nowhere. Laura asked her to explain why. "Alice, it's interesting that you immediately looked at this from the perpetrator's point of view rather than our position in the maze of unanswered questions we have on this board. I agree with that entirely. We are being challenged to a duel in which only one side can dispense fatality where and when the pleasure takes them."

"Hang on, Laura," objected Kane, "you aren't trying to tell us we can expect another body sometime soon, are you?"

"Well, I don't pretend to have a crystal ball when it comes to the time, but I have enough experience to be sure there is one in the planning already. This is why I'd like us to re-target our efforts, at least temporarily. My justification would be that the person or persons orchestrating these killings potentially have two objectives. The first has to be some correction of an old injustice, and they probably perceive that injustice being reflected in the victims we already have. The second could well be the system itself, how those that are there to protect us actually are part of the problem. Any comments?"

Weaver raised his hand. "Can I take a punt at what you're about to suggest?"

"Of course, that's why I wanted to invoke every opportunity for you all to scrutinise my own leanings. Please, go ahead."

"Well, regardless of where and when the next victim will surface, it will be from a list we already have. And I figured you're about to suggest that a strand of what we're looking at should be preventative, alongside grinding away at solving the puzzle of what has already happened. Because that is something we can't change."

"That's pretty close, David. I'd just like to add one more flavour. The conductor of this orchestra, in my opinion, wants us to help his or her cause in some twisted sense, but only when their completed painting is ready to be framed. As time consuming as it may be, I think we should begin tracking every name on that list, even those other than the ones you prioritised, David. There were thirty-one, but we know of Nathan's demise, so we now have thirty left. We've been assuming that our three victims are all from this one class, but that's all it is, an assumption. I'm suggesting that some of them will have information about that, and we need it as soon as possible. The proof of that is your brief chat with Eleanor Wright. I'm detecting we might be close to revealing the motive, or the noble cause in our adversary's mind. Inspector, would you allow David and myself to work on this while you and Alice concentrate on the current incidents?"

"Mm, I'm not fully convinced, but as long as we remain flexible to revert at any time I suppose we can give it a shot. One thing is certain, if we find another victim any time soon I'll have to ask for more resource. That will be fun."

*

Alice persuaded Kane to seek out Claire Pearson's predecessor at the address she was given. "We can also ask Linda Bainbridge about that ramshackle cottage she said her husband was living in."

"Yeah, but let's do it the other way around. From what you said about this Pearson woman, we probably won't get the geezer who preceded her to loosen their tongue after all these years."

They agreed and set off.

Meanwhile Laura challenged Weaver to sketch out the order in which they should build pictures of students who'd as yet not been eliminated from the list. "You go first and I'll be devil's advocate. That way we might both learn something."

David Weaver hadn't truly taken on board what Laura said in her lead up to this approach. "Well, I can't actually see what's wrong with how I checked out Eleanor Wright first. She fitted with the only criteria we have."

"You assume these are the only criteria we have. I stressed that we aren't only a million miles from naming a suspect, but as yet haven't yet nailed down a motive. There is often a correlation between why a perpetrator kills and their history building up to that moment. I don't think your judgement was wrong, but what have we learned from Eleanor? Do you think it's worth contacting the second person on your list?"

"I'm not as hopeful with Henry Sanderson because he lives a lot further away from any of the crime scenes."

"Ok, so what if he had an accomplice here in the northeast?"

"Yeah, maybe but..."

"Yes, there could always be a 'maybe, but, if or possibly'. What I'm really driving at is taking the whole picture and finding where the fault lines are. There are thirty young people who used to see one another pretty much every day. This isn't your usual Yorkshire Ripper or Boston Strangler fishing lake, it's a tiny fishing barrel, a discrete few about whom we know almost nothing. If we could have been a fly on the wall in that class, we would surely have separated the good, the bad and the indifferent. Can I ask you exactly how you'd characterise Eleanor Wright from the chat you had?"

"Yeah, she was annoyed, uncooperative, and a bit arrogant into the bargain."

"What other features, if any, did you detect?"

"Impatience and rudeness."

"Not fear, or concern, stammering or hesitation?"

"Definitely not. Putting it mildly she was overly officious and sneered at my questions."

"Right, and how does that sit with you now that we're back looking at the whiteboard?"

"I don't know."

"I don't either but it doesn't shout at me that she's scared that we're on to her, that her master plan has just been torpedoed. If I remember correctly she said she'd spoken with the authorities several times about the 'situation' and was now 'done with it'. She could still be the one so perhaps we should speak with Henry Sanderson and see if he can elaborate on what exactly the 'situation' was. I'm not criticising the order of your questioning, just the guillotining of the list."

"Ah, now I get it. I hadn't completely focussed on what you mentioned as a tiny fishing barrel. We might only have thirty suspects."

"Probably, but we can't discount teachers. They can wait, but could easily be involved in the situation. So, let's try to contact Henry."

*

For the first time Linda Bainbridge's reaction was frosty. When challenged about the filth and disrepair of the cottage, she asked what that had to do with anything. Alice responded in kind, instead of humouring her. "It has to do with the fact that we couldn't find anything relating to Steven apart from a single school reunion photograph. Frankly I don't believe he ever lived there."

"How can you say that? Look, he had mental issues. Steven couldn't take care of a pet rabbit, never mind a cottage. He was two different people, and finally he realised that this was affecting Amy as well as myself. Ok, he didn't leave me, I asked him to go away. You have no idea how scared I was. He only visited us when he wasn't on the wrong side of this bipolar stuff. He was ashamed of himself, and it shows you how crazy he'd become by moving into that pigsty. His dapper dress was for his public image. And if you were to ask me again I'd confess I'm relieved that he passed away. For his sake as well as ours."

Kane and Alice drew a deep breath before continuing.

Alice didn't relent. "Linda, can you tell us anything about what might have caused his depression?"

"Not in medical jargon, but I'm certain it was triggered by one of his so-called school friends. It happened just after we got married."

"Is this friend one of those you identified on that photograph?" queried Kane.

"No, because I didn't know his name. I only wrote down the names I knew. But I know his face from the picture. You only asked me to put names to faces that I knew."

Alice pushed harder. "That's right, and we have all the names and all the faces. Could you pick him out from the photo for us and leave the names to us?"

Alice returned to the car and picked up a copy of the photo, came back and placed it on the glass dining table.

"That's him, the one with the stupid earring. He put the fear of god into me even though I only saw him once or twice."

Kane politely asked if she knew where he lived.

"No, according to Steven he had a caravan somewhere out in the sticks."

They thanked her and left. In the car Alice suggested that the previous headmaster might not be such a waste of time after all. "The very least he can tell us is the bloody boy's name."

"Fine by me, Alice," agreed Kane, "but confine our interest to that. No point in getting him to clam up about anything else. Let's keep him onside for now."

# Chapter 18

There was an air of gathering momentum running through the team, all four of them. Kane and Alice were keen to update Laura and Weaver after they spoke with the ex-headmaster.

The number Weaver was ringing remained unanswered.

"I'll try Henry Sanderson again in a few minutes."

Laura nodded. He replaced the handset and it immediately signalled an incoming call.

"Weaver."

"At last," said Reggie, "brace yourself, mate, we've possibly got another one. The Edenwell lot have just been told a body has been found at an old ruin in...just a second...Ravenwood Priory, wherever that is. I've tried Kane and Baxter but they must have their phones switched off. I'll keep trying them, but I think you should get to that priory as soon as you can."

"Ok, will do, I have a vague idea where that building is."

He asked Laura to come with him and put Jenny and Hugh on alert.

When Weaver couldn't access the old building by car they both had to make the rest of the way on foot. They introduced themselves to the Edenwell uniformed officer and they were shown the body. It was in a sitting position, its back leaning against a stone wall and was completely naked. Laura wasn't particularly squeamish, yet she initially recoiled at the sight of the man's severed genitals gripped in his left hand. She recovered sufficient composure to take a photo before any restrictions were put in place by Jenny or Hugh, both of whom were asked to get there urgently by Weaver.

Not wanting to corrupt the scene of crime, the two of them confined their inspection to distanced observations until the others arrived. Weaver's phone buzzed.

"What have you found?" barked Kane.

"Err...a mutilated body, sir. Naked and without his wedding tackle. Maybe it's not one from our list."

"Right," drawled Kane, "we'll head there anyway."

"Ok, Jenny and Hugh are coming. I just wanted to let you know about the mutilation, because neither Bainbridge nor Hutchinson showed evidence of such brutality, and to the best of my knowledge victim number one didn't either."

"Good. See you soon."

*

Kane and Alice pulled into the heritage car park and called Weaver's number again. He explained the precise location of the crime scene to his boss after they'd recognised his parked car. It was just a few hundred yards along the Red Kite Walk, but accessed only on foot.

"You'll see the old ruin after the bend."

Laura alerted Weaver to Jenny and Hugh making their way across the meadow in the distance. Presumably they had come in one vehicle which might make it awkward to get the body back to the car park without special assistance officers.

Weaver told her not to worry about that. "Hugh has access to people for this kind of transport to the mortuary. It was necessary for all three of our victims."

*

Experienced as they were, both Hugh and Jenny winced when confronted with the unfortunate individual inside the ruin. Hugh waited patiently for Jenny to mark up the scene. As soon as she had done so, he knelt down and took a couple of minutes before he spoke.

"Well, this is different. We didn't find such obvious evidence of butchery with any of our previous victims. The severance of his private parts seems to have been achieved with a serrated blade. Jenny, I don't know if you noticed that there appears to be a piece of totally bloodstained paper in his hand as well as his rather impressive penis."

"Yes, I think it should remain there until you get him back to the mortuary and on to the slab. I didn't want to risk tearing it especially if he's been frozen recently."

Kane and Alice were about to join the former railway track after exiting the car. "This must be a different part of the Red Kite Walk. You know, from where we saw the first victim. That's a coincidence for a start, Alice. Fingers crossed that it's not one for us."

"Says the man who often yells at us that there is no such thing as a coincidence."

"Yeah, well anyway, we can do without Knox bleating to the Chief Constable that we should bump the whole shemozzle to some specialised unit for serial killers, or worse still drop the buggers into our patch to babysit us while we do the leg work."

*

They arrived, Kane being somewhat out of breath and Alice saying he should get himself to the gym. He saw the look on Jenny's face and immediately knew it wasn't going to be good news. What he could never have anticipated was precisely how bad it could be. He didn't have to ask what she had.

"Apart from the horror of this incident there are multiple means of identifying the man."

"He has no clothes, how can that be?"

"Well, we did find his clothes rolled up neatly and helping to prop him up from behind. However, here is a photograph of his bare back."

Both Kane and Alice were dumbstruck. It hadn't been noticed by Weaver, which didn't go down well with Kane. Laura leapt to his defence, saying that they both agreed to avoid contaminating the scene, and Jenny backed her up. Alice simply kept her thoughts to herself. The bloodied daubs on the man's back looked as if they'd been applied like graffiti, with a spray.

"Holy shit," gasped Kane, while Alice just shook her head, "Greg Hadley, the reported missing person who wasn't actually missing fiasco. Get this body back to the lab now, right now. Alice, that Edenwell constable doesn't need to search the meadow now, tell him we just need to do a few tests and his boss will be informed of what we find in due course. Now, Jenny and Hugh, I'd like the six of us to keep our counsel on this until you've both finished with the body, and I mean completely finished. Then we revert to basic protocols. It's the way all of these cases should be respected. Does anyone have a problem with that?"

Nobody did, and yet all but Alice were puzzled.

*

Once the transport squad arrived to move the body, the others headed back to the station, except Alice and Kane. They jumped into the car and shot off to see the enigmatic Lorraine Hadley. They actually struck lucky, she was at home. She tried to suggest they should come back at a more convenient time. Alice took temporary charge of the situation. "It's extremely urgent, Mrs Hadley. It won't take long, or you could just come with us to the station. Which is it to be?"

"So, come in then. I have a visitor, would that be a problem?"

"I think this should be a private matter," insisted Alice, causing the woman to retreat, "get whoever it is to come back when we're done with what we need to ask you."

She looked ruffled but complied. They sat opposite Lorraine Hadley and Kane asked where her husband was.

"Is that all? You've asked me to be impolite to my friend just to ask that?"

"Well," replied Alice, "you may thank us for that, just answer the question please."

"I don't know precisely where he is, why?"

"Are you expecting him back soon?"

"Look, we've been through this before, I'm not his keeper. I believe he's in Switzerland, skiing with a friend. Probably back at the weekend."

Kane cut the proceedings short. "Mrs Hadley, you need to come with us to the station. I'm sorry to say we have reason to believe Greg is dead."

There was no visible sign of grief, more an air of confusion, calculating what this meant.

"I see, well...I suppose I should make a quick call to cancel an appointment for this evening. Do you want me to follow in my car?"

"No, we'll take you there and bring you back. You may not be safe to drive, shock can set in without warning."

"Right, I'll get my coat."

While she trudged upstairs to pick out a coat, Kane turned to Alice. "How the hell could we miss this? I know he wasn't on the list but we had Greg Hadley logged as missing?"

"Yeah, but thinking about it there is an explanation. A few of the people Linda Bainbridge identified for us from the photograph were noted without forenames, just an initial. She only seemed to know the Christian names of Steven's closest friends. And I definitely remember those photocopied surnames were smudged. I didn't give it much thought when Weaver transferred them to the white board. What he saw must have been what he wrote – G. Harley. The smudge rubbed out the stroke of the d with part of the closed lower loop. I was also sure it was an r and not a d. Still, we could have queried it with the school records staff. None of us, including you, had a bell ringing in our heads about G. Harley coincidentally being similar to a Greg Hadley. It is worrying that there may be others which have been wrongly transposed."

"Point taken. We have to do this as soon as we get back."

*

Weaver and Laura were completely bemused by Kane's instructions and decided to call Henry Sanderson again. He answered, just saying, 'Sanderson'.

He basically answered the first question Weaver put to him, about being an ex-pupil of Blackford Grammar, but didn't ask what the call was about. His response became a little more hesitant when the subject of the suicide was mentioned. His attitude was similar to that of Eleanor Wright, but nothing like as abrupt. He didn't attempt to close down the discussion and said he was never able to figure out what the suicide was about, unlike others who'd apparently not been too surprised.

"I wasn't interested in that inward-looking group, actually almost a damned cult. In fact my recall of that time is pretty fuzzy now. I don't think you'll get much from any of the group, but you could try Harvey Brewster, they kicked him out of their sad little fraternity for whatever reason. He mentioned something to me one time about most of them being warped. Sorry I can't help you more, I'd pretty much forgotten about those days, and living down here meant I haven't seen any of those classmates in ages."

"So you weren't in a school reunion group?"

"What? No way. I got married to a girl from Wolverhampton and it's been my home since then. My life is here. Anyway, I need to see another patient. Good luck."

Weaver turned to Laura. "Well, you heard that on speakerphone, so?"

"It was worthwhile. He wasn't afraid to engage and I tend to believe he wouldn't be the kind of willing participant in this clan or whatever he called it. He was also happy to give you a name. More importantly, it could move us a little closer to the motive. What's your take?"

"Same as yours, mostly. I'd say we've probably moved both Eleanor Wright and Henry Sanderson into the margin from centre stage. So, that's from thirty-one to thirty, then three victims to twenty-seven, possibly another victim today to twenty-six, and now if we eliminate Eleanor and Henry twenty-four?"

"Perhaps."

*

When they arrived at the lab, Lorraine Hadley maintained her calm exterior demeanour. Hugh removed the covering sheet slowly but only to the waist. She took a step backwards and nodded in confirmation that it was Greg Hadley. No tears, loss of composure, or shock. They asked her to come to Kane's office.

"Mrs Hadley. I need to ask you a simple question. Did your husband attend Blackford Grammar School?" probed Kane.

"Yes, what of it?"

"And yourself?"

"Are you serious? I was educated in the south of our green and pleasant land. In Surrey to be precise. I only came to the god-forsaken north because I married Greg."

Alice chimed in. "When you discreetly informed us of your 'open marriage' type relationship can I assume that meant the physical side with Greg had withered somewhat? I understand you may not wish to answer such a personally intrusive question."

"There's no point in denying it. The visitor I had when you arrived today represents my current romantic dabbling with the opposite sex. I've had no interest in Greg since he got that moon-eyed bitch in the family way. He tried to tell me she'd been his sweetheart from his schooldays. I don't care how people judge me, so I literally told him he'd never touch me again. And he hasn't, but he stayed because we both had a lot to lose in our respective careers, in which reputation is paramount. So there you have it, can I go?"

"Yes," agreed Kane, "so you know the name of this school sweetheart?"

"Of course, a meowing whore by the name of Bainbridge, Linda Bainbridge."

"Are you saying that the father of her child was Greg?"

"Well, it could have been anyone's, I did mention the word, whore. Maybe she has more than one sprog."

"Well, thanks for your time Mrs Hadley. We'd better get you home now. DS Baxter will arrange that for you."

Kane asked Weaver to join him. Explaining the situation of the mix up with the names on the list at least allowed Weaver to comprehend the boss's strange behaviour at the Ravenwood Priory crime scene. He also appreciated how this was going to look if it was leaked. "Just go through the list again and make sure we haven't got any more howlers to report. Do it now."

It didn't make Weaver feel any better that nobody else had picked up on the close similarity of the two names.

When Alice returned to the office both her and Kane said they needed a drink. They made some excuse to leave half an hour early and retired to a quiet pub. Kane got the drinks, sat down and smirked. Alice couldn't keep a straight face when she asked, "Who else other than Reggie knew about what we thought was a wild goose chase with Lorraine Hadley?"

"Nobody, as far as I know, Alice. And that's the way it's going to stay. I can scrub the cloak and dagger stuff about the six of us keeping shtum now. I was trying to head off being accused of having game-changing evidence for quite some time and doing sod all about it. The press would have had me hung drawn and quartered."

# Chapter 19

There was an awful lot of dust to settle, but as yet no prime suspect whom they could all agree upon. Laura kept banging the drum of motive leading to suspects. Weaver was still drawn like a moth to a pulsating light regarding Eleanor Wright and Henry Sanderson. Alice continued to have reservations over Linda Bainbridge and Lorraine Hadley because of the paternity dispute over Amy. Kane found himself reaching a point of abject frustration. It wasn't one such single issue for him. Going against his own intuition he suggested it was time to smoke out the secret none of the people they'd spoken to wanted to talk about. Abandoning his cornerstone philosophy of keeping information out of the public domain, he suggested a press conference at which they could disclose selected findings hitherto considered as 'police eyes only' items.

This immediately created discord within the four of them. He then suggested a compromise. The others could pursue their own recommendations, but he was still going to call for a press conference. The fracturing cohesion prompted Laura to intervene.

"Inspector, I've tried to stress the need to think as the perpetrator, with only the information he or she has, and not knowing what we have. There will be a better time for the kind of disclosure you're suggesting. I think we might be failing to interpret the significance of the change in behaviour with the death of Greg Hadley. Having said that, I do believe David's wish to bring in Eleanor Wright and Henry Sanderson together has merit. It dovetails with both my focus on motive and your desire to 'smoke out the secret' as you put it. Alice makes a perfectly good suggestion because of the repetitive lies Linda Bainbridge has thrown our way. I urge you to postpone this press conference for a little while longer."

Alice and Weaver agreed. Kane paced around the office in silence and suddenly banged his fist on the desk.

"Three days, three days is what you have to delay the conference, and I want action, not more cul de sacs, it's time for solid evidence."

The relief was palpable but short-lived. Laura couldn't resist. "I think you'll find it's actually _culs de sac_ , Inspector."

"Doesn't matter if it's no bloody entry. I want no more bodies. This isn't merely a cerebral challenge, people are losing their lives, and we are losing sight of that. Now, go and get on with it."

*

Alice brought coffees and sat down opposite her boss. "I get where you're coming from, guv. Will you come with me to bring Linda Bainbridge to account? She's run out of rope."

"No, I'll come with you but it isn't going to be a matter of bringing her to account. I'm going to charge her. That's what I mean by action."

"Charge her with what?"

"Number one – obstructing a murder investigation, potentially leading to number two, perversion of the course of justice. And while we're at it, get on to social services because we need an appropriate adult to be with us when we speak to Amy."

"Are you intending to speak with them at the same time?"

"Yes but separately. You take the daughter, I'll handle the mother."

"Ok, I'll get back to you when I've lined up a social worker."

"Good, but don't take any shit from them about being stretched, I want someone here this afternoon."

"You're the boss."

*

Kane's rant hadn't run out of steam. "Weaver, get your two persons of interest on the line and put me on speakerphone while you tell them to get their carcasses here. I'll have a warrant to interview them authorised shortly. They have to be here together so if necessary we'll pick them up."

"Err... yes, sir. I'm on it. I'll let Laura know."

"Let your granny know if you like, just get them here."

Laura sensed the clamour for haste being a problem in itself but understood the pressure Kane was under, mostly from himself.

The calls were made and both parties protested that their schedules couldn't be altered. On cue, Kane took up the reins, first with Eleanor. "DCI Kane speaking. I need to make you aware of the pressing need to speak with you and Henry Sanderson because we have four of your ex-school pupils having lost their lives already. I don't know what your schedule involves but I'm trying to prevent more people dying. As DC Weaver has explained we need your help urgently. And I have to say, it might not reflect on you positively in a court of law if you decline to assist us at this time. I have an enforcement warrant but would rather not use it, either way you will need to be interviewed together. This is crucial."

There was a short silence before Eleanor Wright conceded to comply. "I'd rather I made my own way there. It's not too far, so let me know when Henry can be with you and I'll try to fit in."

"Thank you, DC Weaver will get back to you."

It was slightly more complicated for Henry, being a doctor he had to reschedule a number of surgery appointments. Nevertheless, he agreed to make his way to the northeast after work. "I have two people with non-urgent appointments. I can move them back a couple of days. If I can make it this evening, can you get this over with so that I can be back in Wolverhampton tomorrow morning?"

Kane agreed. "Of course, will you be driving here yourself?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

"No particular reason other than it's a long drive here and back within a few hours. We could still collect you and take you back."

"That won't be necessary, but thanks anyway. I'll be there around eight this evening."

*

Linda Bainbridge's frustration spilled over to downright anger. "You people never give up, regardless of the stress you create for others. I don't have anything more to say to you. Go away, or I'll contact my solicitor about what amounts to harassment."

"Calm down Linda," said Alice, "we just want to..."

"Lose the holier than thou attitude, Mrs Bainbridge," retorted Kane, "get your daughter and come with us."

"Not possible, I'm just about to collect her from nursery school."

"Good, we'll come with you and we can all ride back to the station. Come on, get a move on."

"On what grounds do you have the right to speak to me like that?" Linda was uncharacteristically disturbed at the suggestion of Amy going to the police station.

"We could have done this in a much more civilised manner, but if you want your neighbours to witness events, they will find out later that I'm charging you with obstructing a murder investigation."

She tried to laugh this off but Alice cut her off. "You've told us nothing but lies from the start, even though we were investigating your husband's death. We have every statement you made and it doesn't make good reading. You can call your solicitor from the station. Unless you comply we'll call a squad car to handcuff you and take you back. Is that what you want Amy to see?"

Kane could see she was desperately trying to wriggle out of having her daughter interacting with experienced police officers. She needed time to think and reluctantly agreed to pick Amy up as soon as possible.

*

Meanwhile, Weaver filled in the wait for Eleanor and Henry by looking for information about Harvey Brewster. It didn't take long to establish he was going to be difficult to track down, he had actually been reported missing. He requested a copy of the missing person report which had been lodged with Edenwell police. His ears had pricked up when he was told the situation had been flagged up by Daniel Hutchinson, who was of course now deceased. When he apprised Laura of this she wasn't too surprised. "We still have the remains of the first victim. When was this reported by Daniel?"

"Almost a year ago, why?"

"It's nothing more than a hunch. Could you ask Hugh if enough teeth survived the rodent feast to maybe run a check against local dental practice records? There might be a match. I seem to recall Henry Sanderson saying that he was kicked out of this cult or whatever he called it. If true that could make him more likely to be on the photo of the class of 1989. Aren't you beginning to see this school year polarising towards us and them, inflicting damage on one another? Maybe not. Worth asking Hugh?"

"Yeah, but I'll tread carefully because I know the boss has been on his case about the autopsy of Greg Hadley."

*

While he was in the mortuary and having difficulty in getting anywhere with Hugh, he decided to check in on Jenny and come back to Hugh later.

"Hi, Jenny, anything new from the rudderless corpse from the ruin?"

"Very graphic, DC Weaver, but I'm afraid not. Hugh was right about a serrated blade being the means of severance but I haven't found any prints, DNA, or even distinguishing features which would enable me to be more precise. However, maybe you're the man who could add knowledge to what was on the piece of paper he had gripped in the same hand as his err... thingy. You know? The message was produced on an ink jet printer, so presumably computer generated. It states the obvious – 'Ten green bottles hanging on the wall, if four green bottles should accidentally fall, there'd be six green bottles hanging on the wall. No longer required, yet still important to some'."

"I err...I'm afraid I don't get it... oh hang on, you mean his genitals are now redundant, but important to someone else?"

"Work on it, Detective Constable, for example yourself. I believe it could mean the police."

"Sorry, maybe it will mean something to Laura."

"There you go, you're getting warmer."

He left, still deep in thought. Hugh was a little more receptive to him as he'd just scrubbed up from the autopsy.

"Now then, young man. These teeth, from the first victim, there are many missing, however, their owner had a penchant for gold fillings, mostly in molar positions, both top and bottom jaws. I'll get my assistant to contact a few dental practices, but only in the immediate vicinity for now. Widening the radius will simply have to wait. You can tell DCI Kane that I have completed my autopsy of Mr Hadley and he can expect it in in writing in the morning."

*

Not a word was spoken until Amy was picked up. She wanted to know who the strange people were, where they were going, what was for tea, and all manner of demands including an urgent need for the toilet. Her mother declined to respond to any of the incessant threats of tears. It was left to Alice to placate the child.

On arrival at the station Linda was relieved to see her solicitor in reception. Her message had managed to reach him. They were all signed in and escorted to a small conference room. The solicitor insisted on some time alone with his client. Amy was now relatively quiet, cuddling and lecturing her cloth puppy. Alice was informed of the social worker sitting at her desk. She briefed the woman, who looked distinctly uncomfortable at the prospect of monitoring such a delicate situation.

Having emerged from their one on one session, Linda followed her legal representative to the interview room. Before Kane began, the solicitor questioned the legitimacy of proceedings. Kane threw copies of every statement his client had made. He wasn't put off. "Unless you're charging my client with any specific misdemeanour we are leaving."

Kane turned to Linda. "It would seem you're just as uncooperative with your solicitor as you have been with us. Linda Bainbridge, I am charging you with obstructing a police investigation into the killing of your husband. You've been granted time to speak with your solicitor, and this formal caution will allow the charge to proceed. Do you understand?"

The solicitor sat down. Linda said nothing. "Tell her she has to acknowledge the charge, would you please? She has to say so for the recorder," said Kane, "she has one minute to respond."

She was advised to do so, and then said 'no comment' to every single question, even asking her to verify that the various previous statements were made by her. Kane suspended the interview and asked the solicitor to step outside.

"This is only part one of our interview. Her daughter is in another room ready to speak with a social worker in attendance. This is a murder inquiry and I can't stress too much what the consequences would be if the little girl can volunteer, without being led, something which is clearly at variance with all of your client's statements which were witnessed by more than one officer. She has a lot riding on Amy's unbiased response. You know where this could go, don't you? There are three other murders apart from Linda's husband. Maybe there could be collateral damage to anyone she's lied to, even yourself. If you want another few minutes with her on your own, just say so. Depending on whether she can begin to finally tell the truth, we may not need to proceed with Amy's interview."

"I think it would be worthwhile having another word with Linda. Please give me time to run over the statements and we can reconvene."

# Chapter 20

The more of Linda's statements the solicitor read, the more he became unsettled. He asked her to explain what he referred to as anomalies, and her incoherent monologue illustrated precisely what Kane's assertion had claimed.

He gradually got her to slow down as she was becoming hysterical. Eventually he advised her to have the humility to admit her folly and be prepared to cooperate in establishing the absolute truth.

"Linda, you're running the risk of the very person you're trying to protect implicating you in a more serious charge, which if found against you could mean a custodial sentence. Who would then take care of your daughter? I'm not here to judge you, merely to advise you."

She broke down completely, laying her cheek on the cold table.

Kane was asked to join them. "My client wishes to retract her previous statements and is prepared to give a full truthful account of events if her daughter can be spared the ordeal of being questioned."

"That's all very well, but I'll be the judge of whether what she tells me is the truth. If I'm satisfied we won't speak about events to Amy. If I'm not then we proceed as I outlined already, the charge will stand against Linda."

Kane chose to begin with the relationships she had with her husband and Greg Hadley. "Did you ever enter the cottage claimed to be inhabited by Steven?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I was warned not to."

"By Steven?"

"No, by the man in that photo you showed me."

"The one with the earring?"

"Yes. The one who lives in a caravan somewhere."

"Why did he put the fear of god into you?"

"Steven didn't live there as I said he had, I didn't know what to tell you. It was just being used as some kind of postal address according to Steven. This person had already threatened my husband and then he made the same threats to me. I had to keep out of the way, or my daughter would disappear. Steven was ashamed of allowing this creep to affect us like that but he said it would all stop soon. I knew it wouldn't and I was right, Steven was in denial and I'm sure that's why he was killed. I couldn't risk telling the police about someone I couldn't identify. I was trapped."

"So, this had nothing to do with Amy not being Steven's child?"

"What's that supposed to mean? Of course she is his daughter. I did have an affair with Greg Hadley and became pregnant, but I had a termination. I've never had sex with anyone but Steven since then."

"In that case why would Lorraine Hadley claim her husband is the father of Amy?"

"I can see that's what she might think but you can check with the clinic where I had the abortion. Unless I'm mistaken you could also check Amy's DNA against Steven's remains. That should prove whether I'm telling the truth."

"Fine. Is there any reason why Steven didn't tell you the name of this guy with the earring?"

"It was only to protect Amy and myself. I know you've asked me about this class of 1989 stuff and what was going on at school back then. I couldn't say anything because I was sure this creep was part of it. If only I could remember his damned name. For some reason I think it was foreign or partly foreign."

"Look, Linda, assuming I believe what you're telling me now, we could arrange temporary protection for you and Amy in a safe house where he'd never find either of you. Tell me about what was going on, whatever it was that Steven was involved with."

"He had been part of that gang, and it became really ugly. He wanted out but I said he couldn't risk putting Amy in danger. I wanted to move away from Winfield Bridge to another part of the country. The only way I can help now is to ask you to look closely at the so-called suicide of someone in that class."

"Someone? Give me a name?"

"Adele Ross, is the pretend name she wanted to be known as to her friends, her birth name was Fatima Ahmed, and that's how it was reported in the papers. You'll need to look deep into this, the papers got it wrong. I really can't say more but I wouldn't be surprised if all the murders you're looking at happened because the verdict was also wrong. Please can I see my daughter?"

"Your solicitor is witness to this statement."

He switched off the recorder. "I'll try to arrange a safe house as soon as possible. Where can you stay other than your house in Winfield Bridge for the time being?"

"With my mother."

"Write down the address while I bring your daughter downstairs to reception. Be aware this is all conditional on DNA tests and the clinic records."

*

Henry Sanderson finally arrived half an hour later than expected due to a motorway accident. Kane and Alice asked him and Eleanor Wright to take a seat, while Weaver and Laura observed via the video camera.

The two former pupils indulged in a quick hug, indicating that they were pleased to meet again. When Kane explained what information he needed in order to prevent further deaths he was surprised that Eleanor wasn't as reluctant to talk as she had been on the phone with Weaver. Henry's presence appeared to give her some kind of support.

"I appreciate this is difficult for you so I'll begin with a full list of names of your former classmates and a photograph of a number of those male students referring to themselves as the class of 1989. As you can see, we have ringed ones for whom we can put the names and pictures together and fully identify some of them. We need the others. Please look at the photograph and take your time, I know it was a long time ago."

Eleanor asked to be excused. "I think I'm going to be sick, can you give me a minute?"

The interview was suspended. Henry shook his head and his facial expression darkened. "Is there a problem?" asked Kane.

"I'd rather let Eleanor explain, I have to respect her feelings."

The tension was building. When Eleanor returned she was more composed but had obviously been in tears.

"Are you ok to continue?" asked Alice.

"I think so. Can we just do what you suggested and write the names next to the pictures?"

They did this separately and there were no discrepancies. Eleanor took a deep breath.

"Let's get this over with. I can only speak for myself, whether you are able to encourage others to do the same is anyone's guess. I hope you can."

She picked out three individuals. "They all...ra...raped me."

Henry squeezed her hand while she struggled to carry on. "They took their turn and vocally encouraged one another. They left me in that room and only when their voices faded away altogether, could I get to my feet and run home. I was completely manic by the time I got home, only to find that my parents thought I was making it up. My father said it was a serious allegation and difficult to prove. As if he knew what it was like to be violated in that way. My mother always folded in behind what he dictated. I then had to deal with it on my own. My father's exact words to my mum were, 'we know she's always been highly strung, seeking attention, she'll calm down'. It gets a bit blurred after that. If my parents weren't going to the police with me, how would I be able to convince them of what happened to me? I begged my mum to take me but in some old fashioned stiff upper lip indoctrination she said my father was worried about how this would affect the family reputation. I got really angry and said it wasn't the kind of injury that you'd treat with some ointment, I'd live with it for the rest of my life. That's what I'm doing."

They suspended the interview again. Kane suggested he and Henry left the room and leave Alice with Eleanor. Weaver was so upset he switched off the video camera and told Laura he needed some fresh air.

There was worse to come. Eleanor told Alice off the record that she wasn't the only one to suffer this indignity.

There were at least four that she knew of, possibly more who'd been afraid to tell. Eleanor said she could understand that initially but when the suicide of Fatima Ahmed was being investigated they could surely have come forward.

In the meantime, Laura could visualise her ball of clay morphing into a ball of string, primed to unwind completely.

The break lasted all of twenty minutes, Eleanor was ready to resume. She asked for a coffee. Alice informed Kane and passed on the request for caffeine. He and Henry returned.

By that time, and only in the presence of Alice, the three boys were identified by Eleanor. As Henry took his seat, Alice whispered to her boss that they should move on to the suicide. He readily agreed, having been told by Henry that he'd known about these allegations, the entire school did. It was the attempt to cover it up which got the then headmaster dismissed, the grapevine saying that his sacking would make the problem go away. When asked if these three boys were the only ones involved in the rapes, Henry's expression said it all, nevertheless he backed it up by saying only one of the eleven wasn't, and that's why he'd given DC Weaver the name of Harvey Brewster. "That's why he was thrown out of the clique. Not red-blooded enough to qualify. The rest of the boys in the class, and some of the girls were warned that they were either part of the problem or they didn't know anything. Brewster fell into line and kept quiet. There was one other boy who was prepared to stand up and be counted, unlike the sheep such as myself. I can't quite bring his name to mind, mixed nationality I believe. Maybe Eleanor can remember. Actually, he was a close friend of Fatima, our head girl in the upper sixth. God, it's so frustrating, the lad had a spinal problem, an uncorrected curvature which hadn't been addressed early enough. He isn't on that photograph and he wasn't intimidated by that lot, often chanting to them that he'd never work in such a 'chain gang', you know, an old song depicting prisoners being forced to smash rocks."

# Chapter 21

They'd been swimming against the tide for months. At last there was tangible optimism that it was beginning to turn. "Just when you're ready, Eleanor. I can assure you that we will seek to review the suicide case as part of our existing investigation."

She smiled weakly and spoke almost inaudibly while staring down at the table. "Fatima was one of the most engaging people I've ever met. I'm biased of course, but she was easily the most intelligent pupil in our class. She had never let her physical trauma dampen her enthusiasm or thirst for knowledge. Her homeland, in North Africa, was undergoing some religious guerrilla conflict when she was hit by a fragment of a shell casing. It embedded in and around her right eye socket, destroying the eye itself. The bone structure wasn't reconstructed, solely because they didn't have access to a competent health system. It left her with a concave hollow of grotesque proportion. The pathetic attempt at inserting a false eyeball caused infection which left further scar tissue. Only when her family came to this country did she receive proper medical attention. Even so, her childhood was marred by being the female equivalent of the elephant man. But you know what inspired me the most was her unwavering desire to blend into our culture. Unlike her parents, she learned the language with ease. Her strength became her weakness. She declined to think the worst of the boys in the class of 1989, declaring that they would mature. That was until the systemic bullying began. Her revulsion turned to vitriolic outspoken condemnation. She had more guts than the rest of us put together. We marvelled at the way she was able to put them down with words. Particularly that she felt sorry for their lack of awareness of their own ignorance. That eventually proved to be the lightning rod which unleashed the 'press gang', as they first called themselves. Over the next years the bullying wasn't enough, and the rapes began. Fatima finally encountered something she couldn't handle. Abuse of females in her homeland was rife, including female genital disfigurement. She thought she'd found a civilised sanctuary here in our region. I remember her capitulation as if it was yesterday. She said it was her fault, she had brought this on the rest of us by standing up against those monsters. I couldn't talk her out of that, saying she was our only hope of getting something done about it. Just when I had the feeling that she'd rally as she always did, a few days later she took her own life."

Eleanor paused, seemed to hyperventilate, but held up her hand and continued. "She left a note which was basically deemed irrelevant in court. I'll never forget those words. It read – 'There are those who are blind but can see, there are those who aren't blind and cannot see, but the worst of all are those who do not wish to see'. We, the pupils, could all accept she took her own life, but the verdict of plain suicide is obscene. That girl died by induced suicide. I'm so sad that I had to recount this, but in a way it has lifted an onerous burden I've never been able to shed. The authorities at that time have not been brought to account for gross neglect, by blocking evidence and testimony, claiming irrelevance. I have grave doubts as to whether you'll be able to right these wrongs, Inspector, but I fervently hope you can."

The sombre atmosphere was pierced by Henry embracing Eleanor and apologising for being a silent bystander in those times. "We all were, in one form or another, Henry, except Fatima."

Before they dispersed, Kane reminded Henry of the identity of the close friend of Fatima.

"Oh yes, Eleanor, I was telling the Inspector about Fatima's friend, the one with the curved spine. Do you remember his name?"

"Of course, how could I forget somebody with more backbone than the rest of us? Alex Rossi, that's why Fatima wanted to be known as Adele Ross. Same initials."

Alice latched on to this immediately.

"Did he wear an earring?"

"Sometimes."

The two detectives genuinely thanked Eleanor for her fortitude in regurgitating such soul-destroying agonies. Henry left with Eleanor, insisting that he would cancel his schedule for the next day if she would like to have a quiet dinner for two. A gesture declined as failing to be better late than never.

Alice was quick to make the point that Henry said this Rossi wasn't on the photo, whereas Linda Bainbridge said he was. Kane shook his head. "That was in one of her early statements, she was confused as to the best way to protect her daughter and did say he had a foreign sounding name. Eleanor and Henry are more reliable. We've got a real suspect."

*

Laura and Weaver joined Kane and Alice in his office.

"So we finally have a person of interest if not a suspect. We need to think carefully about what we do next."

Laura responded before the others. "I'd recommend your team can be trimmed to three now. You have a clear motive, a name, and the kind of accommodation in which he lives. All of which fit just about every piece of evidence. If Weaver can pin down the one dissenting person on the photograph you'll have hooked all the relevant fish from the 'barrel of 1989'. I should return to London now, but I hope to follow your case to its conclusion. You have my number, call anytime."

"Can't fault your logic," exclaimed Kane, "we have all appreciated your input and insight, Laura. I promise to keep you informed."

The remaining three switched off the lights and headed for the pub.

Kane bought the drinks and all three of them ordered light snacks. After unwinding for a few minutes and cutting through the small talk, Kane expressed a concern.

"We must not take our eye off the ball here. These revelations, as horrific as they are, means we have to accept that unfortunately they are entirely based upon witness statements from only two people. Whether or not all of this new information is directly linked to the four deaths and this school disgrace, has yet to be proven. I believe we have two options now. Faced with a manhunt and potentially more victims, we can involve the TV criminal appeal route or try to run this Rossi character to ground by keeping the search local and on a need to know basis."

Weaver held his hands up. "I'm still relatively new to this stuff, but one of the things that struck me as important was to do more checks on another person. Harvey Brewster has so far been like the invisible man. If as Henry Sanderson says, this guy was the only one in that picture of the class of 1989 to stand against the 'press gang' culture, and be subsequently thrown out, we really have to find him."

"Yeah, so get back to it, Weaver. It's right up your street. Alice, you are awful quiet."

"Just mulling over what you said, guv. First thoughts are that national TV would be a mistake at this point. It could give him time to go completely underground. We know he's very clever, a chameleon who has the foresight to change colour with short notice. Also, that green bottles quote in Greg Hadley's hand suggests he's not finished until more accidentally fall. I'd go for an unannounced targeted search in this region only, focussed on single caravans, not caravan parks. He seems to enjoy isolation and the ability to strike quickly."

"Ok then, let's get a good night's sleep and I'll pester Knox to allow us to subtly direct an undercover search for this Rossi. He's going to love this, strutting his podgy arse in front of his peers."

*

Hugh's post mortem report was lying on Kane's desk. He picked it up, showing little interest in it, comparing it to the residue after the lord mayor's show. Glancing through the precis did confirm there was a blue patch on Greg Hadley's back. Unlike Jenny's reluctance to be specific Hugh put forward an educated guess that the genitals were hacked off with a motorised saw blade, due to smears of two-stroke oil in his nether regions. An old leaky chainsaw perhaps. What really caught his eye was the laboured assessment of the scrotal area left on the main part of the corpse. A spider. A dead spider. A dead Northern Funnel Web spider. One of the most deadly on the planet.

He took the report sheet with him to speak to Hugh.

"Ah, I began to think you'd deserted me, Robert. I can guess what has tickled your fancy, amongst this 'web of carnage'. Am I right?"

"Nice one, Hugh. So what is missing from your report? You stopped at declaring this funnel thing as the most deadly in the world, you have a theory don't you?"

"Of course, but that's all it is."

"Out with it you wily old goat."

"If you're pressing me about this, give me some justification. My statement was crystal clear."

"Where would we find these bloody spiders?"

"Aha, not an indigenous species to this country. However, crazy people can obtain them from dodgy stores who import them. Is that all?"

"Should it be?"

"Well, that was also a fact. My theory is that one of these little beasts can kill a human in minutes after a bite. Now, as Jenny and I are agreed that this body exhibited no signs of ice presence we assume he was likely to have been killed relatively recently compared to the others. But more intriguingly, if this is correct, the perpetrator would have to be even more expert than first thought to manage the dosage of antidote. It's no more than a presumption but I'd wager a small sum that he administered the antidote to prolong the dreadful pain as long as possible. If the dosage of antidote was supposed to be life-preserving they would possibly have survived, albeit with chronic disabilities of some kind. This kind of neurotoxin does what it says on the tin – disable parts of the nervous system. I hope this was helpful, Robert."

"If it is, I may have to take you and your good lady for a top of the range curry."

"Splendid."

As Kane walked back to the office, the one word which stayed with him was 'disability'. Fatima and this Alex Rossi were each living with disabilities, albeit different from one another.

*

As he predicted Knox was salivating at the prospect of his contemporaries being invited to see for themselves how the Newcastle force ran like a veritable precision sewing machine. The problem was that Knox wasn't buying into a mini cloak and dagger search. The opportunity to impress with a whirlwind, highly publicised capture of a serial killer was simply too much to resist. After a heated argument by Kane that such a circus could be catastrophic, Knox declared that his mind was made up. Kane was dismissed as a reminder of whose remit it was to take the difficult decisions. DCI Kane's pessimism wasn't helped by having to give Alice the bad news and hand her the task of locating kosher and illegal means of providing the feared Funnel Web creatures. She insisted that Rossi had to be ensconced in a local retreat. It just didn't make sense otherwise. "Sir, did I mention we'd need a helicopter to get shots of isolated caravans? I mean, we can't merely run around at ground level in vehicles, this guy isn't stupid enough to be out in the open."

"I know, your point is valid. I'll have another tilt at him. I'll need time to think of other arguments against a mass search. More to do with Fort Knox being the central figure in a possible arrest. Purely logical points like you just mentioned isn't going to cut it."

Feeling slightly less depressed, he approached the coffee machine. Alice tapped him on the shoulder. "Guv, just had a thought. It was mentioned that Steven Bainbridge, and presumably this 'creep' his wife referred to, used that cottage as a mailbox of sorts. I think it's worth another visit."

"Sure, let me finish my coffee. Get the car ready, and see if Jenny is available to join us?"

"Why Jenny?"

"Neurotoxins and Antidotes. He either had them in his caravan or a broken down old shack where there were no visitors other than Steven, who was scheduled to depart this mortal coil when he'd served his purpose. I want this bastard, every bit as much as I want those bloody rapists to face justice. Rossi might have expected some sympathy from people like me in wanting to right a wrong, as Eleanor put it. And, as a human being I get that, but we are coppers, so sorry, no can do. If Jenny can find trace evidence of either neurotoxin or antidote in that shack, it will be another nail in his coffin. If she can't all we've lost is a couple of hours in her workload. For god's sake we haven't exactly burdened her with many requests since we found Greg Hadley. All she really gave us was the note, and that didn't tax her sensitivities as much as prising it away from his manhood. Also if we do find the toxin there, Knox might just back down and withdraw from the notion of a damned all out manhunt"

# Chapter 22

Weaver was still trawling every avenue he could think of regarding Harvey Brewster. All he'd come up with until now, apart from verifying his birth certificate, were a few references to him competing in the 400 metres at the Durham County school championships. He was about to switch his attention to Alex Rossi when Hugh grabbed his arm. "I was fortunate with a dentist in Burndale, she confirmed that one of her patients from several years ago had the same configuration of gold fillings as the remains of the first victim. Her records name him as Harvey Brewster, and I think you should speak with Jenny."

"Awesome, I'll just..."

"She has just completed one of the DNA comparisons DCI Kane requested."

"Oh, I didn't know about that. Thanks."

Weaver closed his laptop and grabbed a coffee on the way to forensics.

"News travels fast, but I was expecting your boss."

"He's busy with Alice at the moment, it was Hugh who said I should speak with you."

"Well, I have to travel with the two of them to that run down ruin in the middle of nowhere in a few minutes, so you can pass this report to him while I clean up here."

When Weaver read through the technical jargon then turned the page over, he muttered to himself, "No way."

Rushing back to his desk he almost collided with Reggie, who barked at him. "Read the damned signs on the stairs – do you think it only applies to others? **Walk don't** **run** is pretty clear to me, and it had better be to you in future."

He knocked on Kane's door and was waved away, but persisted. Kane brusquely beckoned him to enter.

"We're just about to leave, make it quick."

"Jenny said you'd want to see this as soon as possible, sir. One of the fingerprints she found a while back at the cottage you're heading for has strong correlation with a partial print from the first victim's remains."

"So?"

"Well I remember you sending DS Baxter and myself to that cottage with specific instructions to gather anything which might have DNA evidence. We brought a number of items back and passed them to Jenny. She gradually worked her way through them and she's found that one of them is a match for the first victim."

"He's right, boss. I thought it was a waste of time."

Kane tried to rewind this in his head. "Right, so that's another link of the victims, great."

"Yes, sir," beamed Weaver, "but Hugh has also found a dentist in Burndale who confirmed that the gold fillings from that victim were exactly the same as a client of hers. Her records show that over time this person added gold fillings. Hugh didn't have them all but the ones he did have fit perfectly with a Harvey Brewster. I think we have identified the first victim."

"Hallelujah, bloody hell. We need to pass this on to Laura. Just as well you suggested visiting that cottage again looking for any mail, Alice. I wasn't hopeful, but this does change things dramatically."

*

On arrival at the cottage, they felt the first drops of rain. There was a heaviness of impending thunderstorms in the air. After looking in every nook and cranny again and finding nothing they'd pretty much decided to quit. The wind was blowing hundreds of leaves from neighbouring trees which caused them to consider accelerating their departure. The leaves continued to fall and the lightning was creeping closer. The next flash was close enough to illuminate the surroundings, setting the dark afternoon sky against pockets of light, shining through the denuded trees. Jenny's attention was drawn to something she could no longer see. Like the bright flash after taking a photograph. "Wait, there's something over there. I can just about make out a silhouette now that the leaves are less dense."

Kane and Alice followed her, cursing as they hadn't noticed how swampy it was underfoot. Then it appeared as if from a cut scene in a movie. A small cabin.

"Don't tell me that I've ruined my shoes for an outside latrine, a mediaeval shithole," grumbled Kane, "I don't want to see what might be in there."

Jenny carried on despite the other two calling her back. The door was bolted shut and there were no windows.

"We need a tyre lever to break the lock. Do you have one in your car, Inspector?"

Alice shrugged her shoulders and said, "Don't look at me." A now distinctly tetchy Kane uttered a string of profanities while walking off to retrieve the lever. He threw it to Jenny, who was exasperated with his defeatism. As slender as she was, the force she summoned was more than enough to prise off the bolt hinges and the door swung open, accompanied by a loud creaking whine. "Come and see this, come on, hurry up."

At last Kane's sultry demeanour melted. A four drawer high filing cabinet stared back at them. "Give me the lever, Jenny, I'll soon have this open."

"You're welcome, Inspector. Like hell I will. This is my find, stand back. I want this back to the lab unopened."

*

Laura was pleased to hear from Weaver. "Now you might want to pursue why he was so important to this Alex Rossi. It could have something to do with Harvey Brewster being kicked out of the so-called class of 1989. How does the saying go? 'A convert often becomes a stronger believer than a disciple'. Well, something like that."

"You've done it to me again, I'm too young to know what these strange quotations are supposed to mean. Why would Rossi have any time for one of the enemy?"

"Someone who _was_ the enemy, but repented.

"Ah, you mean Harvey could have been seeking revenge on the other ten."

"Maybe. If that was the case, depending on why he was expelled from the clique, Rossi would have an inside track on the very people he wanted to terminate."

"Mm, and would therefore become a liability and logically the first to be taken care of."

"It's one theory, and if it's correct you can still expect him to target the other six. You're dealing with someone who has already demonstrated intelligence, meticulous planning, and specialised medical knowledge, so why exclude cunning? Keep me in the loop."

"Definitely."

*

The filing cabinet retrieval had come too late to stop Knox's impetuousness. The manhunt was announced and now officially underway, but there were already cracks in the temporary alliances between the various forces. It needed a search Tsar, but nobody was prepared to grasp that particular nettle. It began to wither on the vine before it had managed to engage top gear, much to the chagrin of Robert Kane. He described it as warning the enemy of a thrust, and then proceeded in the wrong direction.

He knew this was an issue he couldn't influence any further. Knox angrily conceded that the Chief Constable had declined to intervene. They were back in the Bermuda Triangle with no radar or sonar, and several false leads from the public.

Still, there could be a flicker of hope when the filing cabinet contents were eventually revealed. However, Jenny urged caution, having carefully transferred it to the car boot unopened, and avoided as many potholes as they could on the way back. She'd also insisted that they took it directly to the forensic lab and place it in secure isolation. "We need to ask an experienced locksmith to open the cabinet with extreme care."

"No way," shouted Kane, becoming angry again, "this is only a bloody filing cabinet, not something which requires a bomb disposal squad."

"Your enthusiasm is admirable, but in this case bordering on being foolhardy. If your perpetrator has been using this cabinet to keep track of his grotesque deeds, there is a slight possibility that it may contain the means of doing so. Like neurotoxin, antidote, and even arachnids themselves. Leave it in my hands, Inspector. Thank you."

Alice turned away, pretending to be about to sneeze.

"Well, when you've got the damned thing open inform me immediately. Bloody manhunt, if it was up to me I'd shoot the damned gamekeeper."

Jenny smiled at Alice as Kane strode to the exit.

"It's probably better that I explain my reasoning to you, Alice. I think your boss is putting himself under so much pressure at the moment, and is understandably not in the mood for a lecture. So, a male spider deposits sperm into a sperm web, holding it in his palps. Then he cautiously approaches a female spider. The male spider deposits the sperm into an opening on the underside of the female spider's abdomen. The female fertilizes her eggs with the stored sperm and then lays them into an egg sac. She can hold the sperm of several different males in her spermatheca, which is the internal sperm storage area. Female spiders will sometimes eat the smaller males during mating. Spiders make their egg sacs with silken threads shaping it like a ball. The spider disperses the threads through spinnerets near the bottom of the abdomen. The threads are in a liquid form when secreted and become solid when released into the air. Spiders use these threads not only to form egg sacs but also to build webs and nests, and for travel. The egg sacs can contain hundreds of eggs. After about two to three weeks, the eggs hatch into live spiders. It takes about one year for the hatchlings to reach adulthood. They then try to get as far away from their birthplace as they can. I apologise for labouring this point, and it's a remote possibility, but our perpetrator doesn't strike me as placing repeat orders for these dangerous creatures. That would be easier to trace. Breeding them could be his way around that. All I want to avoid is bashing open this metal cabinet and unleashing hundreds of them into my lab. That would mean closing it down to be clinically de-infested. I'm sure even DCI Kane wouldn't want that."

*

Weaver's efforts to expand his knowledge about Alex Rossi was on the verge of hitting the buffers. A stray thought provoked a different angle of approach. There were ten members of this press gang, not counting Harvey Brewster. It was roughly ten years from their school leaving date to the discovery of Harvey Brewster's body. Was this symbolic or was there a practical reason? Rossi wasn't one of the names he'd marked out as a science student. So how would he acquire the knowledge to manipulate the interaction between neurotoxins and their antidotes? After hours of repetitive circling around the puzzle, he concluded that it would have taken a number of years to achieve this at university. But that should have been traceable. Then it hit him like a surge of endorphins coursing through his body. The Open University was founded in 1969 in London. Whilst certain records weren't easily traceable they wouldn't be as watertight as conventional colleges of learning, who'd only granted places to a very small proportion of the country's 'elite' students. The Open University was intended to be exactly that – open to all. Perhaps that also made it vulnerable to fake ID. His initial trawl yielded nothing. It did, however, reinforce his conviction that the murders had probably been in the planning since the rapes, and Fatima's induced suicide. Putting this together with the last chat he'd had with Laura sparked another train of thought. Rossi, like his closest friend, Fatima, had a disability which would make it difficult to achieve transportation of limp corpses to specific locations without being seen. He'd have needed assistance. Harvey Brewster might well have been as important as Laura had believed. David Weaver then felt he should air this line of thought with both Kane and Alice.

"Sir, I'd like to go over the timeline of the four deaths again from a different angle. With yourself and DS Baxter."

"Go for it, then. We've got bugger all else to do until Jenny gets the filing cabinet open. Tell Alice to get in here."

He had the floor, but not their full attention.

"Do either of you think it's feasible for Alex Rossi to achieve everything we've attributed to him without help?"

A resounding shake of the heads was all he needed to proceed. "Right. If I'm allowed to follow Laura's methodology, I believe it could explain how he might have had the kind of help he could rely upon completely. Harvey Brewster came to him and having disclosed all the useful information Rossi needed, was disposed of and dumped by Steven Bainbridge, whose daughter was threatened. The same routine was then planned for Daniel Hutchinson to assist with Steven's death. He was implicated in drug dealing. Enter Greg Hadley, who'd got Linda Bainbridge pregnant. A recurring pattern with the benefit of no loose ends to worry about. Well?"

Kane looked unimpressed. "How does that help in finding the bastard?"

Alice was more introspective. "Could mean that the next one is not only known, but Rossi is already blackmailing the disposal courier, who will become the next termination on that list"

Kane responded curtly. "Am I missing something here? Or are we just marking time?"

Alice continued. "We now have all ten names and their likeness from the photo. We could save the next victim if we can find the one being threatened and take them out of the equation."

There was tacit agreement that it made sense, even if speculative. Kane despatched Alice to see what progress Jenny had made, and told Weaver to get his coat. "We're going to see that retired headmaster who has refused to say a single word about this whole saga. My gut says he knows something we don't. He's had it easy for too long. Well, what are you waiting for?"

# Chapter 23

Jenny's precautionary measures were probably justified but best characterised as belt and braces, with only one of them being relevant. There was a single deceased Funnel Web arachnid in the bottom drawer of the cabinet, inside a plastic pouch. Alongside this defunct spider, but in a canister containing a vial, was a liquid which turned out to be extracted venom. Presumably the keeper had obtained it by milking the inhabitant of the pouch, if so, a very dangerous task to undertake.

The real find was the plethora of paperwork in the three upper drawers. It was clearly filed in different categories. First the data and regular routines of each 'candidate'. Then the chosen order of executions, and finally the possible time slots for each one. They were in encyclopaedic detail.

Everyone involved in the investigation stood in silence as they tried to decide precisely what to do about having advance knowledge of upcoming murders. They had everything other than where it was likely to take place.

Jenny and Hugh felt they had to step back, allowing Kane and his team time to cogitate the difficulty of deciding precisely with whom this information could be shared. It could backfire whichever way was chosen. A ten day period from this very moment was all they had to action their preferred option before the next body was likely to appear.

Kane decided he couldn't afford to waste more time on the retired headmaster at present. Chasing down the next in line to be victim number five was both a priority and highly dangerous. The detail in the filing cabinet indicated that Rossi was conducting surveillance in the days preceding the execution. If they, the police themselves, were in overt contact with the person, they could potentially bring the date forward unintentionally. The same logic applied to posting security personnel. Rossi could alter his order of targets or invoke some other contingency which he'd developed. There was information in the cabinet to exactly that effect.

"Weaver, if your hypothesis is correct then we could have less risk in rooting out the assistant than shadowing the intended victim. The current target is Paul Fairclough, and the helper is designated as Callum Young. The latter, we presume is primed, but not needed until disposal day, which is post mortem. I'd say that would be a lower risk than going directly after the target. The other thing that strikes me is that unless Rossi already has a second vial of neurotoxin and antidote already on his person, he could need to retrieve the damned stuff we've taken with the cabinet. If he goes back there and finds it missing, the whole bloody situation changes. Whatever we decide, we must do it now."

"I'll check out both the target and helper right away," said Weaver, "we're going to need info on them in all scenarios."

Alice said that this was too big not to pass it up the line.

"Sir, the repercussions of keeping this tight will blow up in our face if we don't protect Paul Fairclough. We can't turn a blind eye to the possibility that he may have disposed of Greg Hadley's body. But David's theory is supposition, intuition, nothing more, and you aren't Sherlock Holmes."

"Not that again, Alice, and you aren't bloody Dr Watson either. But you're right. I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm going to see Knox."

*

When the bombshell was dropped on his desk, Kane watched the panic work its way from Knox's brain to his underpants.

"It seems like squeaky bum time, sir."

"That's no exaggeration, Robert. But I can't just do nothing, I'll have to delegate upwards, I hate doing so but this is one of those career wrecking moments, and of course dereliction of one's duty if we don't try every possible option to save a life. Come with me, we have to inform the Chief Constable in person, no eavesdropping phone calls."

And so the charade went on. The Chief Constable favoured a resumption of the manhunt coalition. Knox and Kane tried to say that would eat into the ten day window and was still a 'needle in the haystack' operation.

They argued for some time and were still quarrelling over risking Paul Fairclough's life or intervening in some way to save it. The phone buzzed. The Chief Constable handed over to Kane.

"It's for you."

"Kane here."

"Sir, it looks like we're too late," said Alice, "Edenwell have another body. This time they received an anonymous call telling them where to find it. I'm on my way there, apparently it's heavily charred. The location is Norton Edge and you'll need to look for my car if you're coming, I'm told the scene is near the Newcastle to Carlisle railway line."

He returned the handset to the Chief Constable.

"There's another body on the Edenwell patch. We'd better hold off on everything until the ID has been confirmed. I have to go."

*

Kane stumbled through the long grass and accreted a stripe of tar to his trousers when brushing past a pile of railway sleepers, adding to his despair. The body was absolutely unrecognisable, burnt to a crisp. Alice hauled him to one side.

"There was a tag around his neck. I took it off, wearing gloves, because I didn't want it to get contaminated. Jenny won't be happy but she can have it later. The tag is in fact a name tag. Not Paul Fairclough but Aaron Phelps. Yes, I know, he's further down the list. Rossi, as you feared is on to us. He must have seen the filing cabinet was gone. I'd put money on this one having no antidote present."

"Where does that leave the helper, Callum Young?"

"God knows, but I'd be surprised if we have to wait long to find out."

"Have Hugh and Jenny...?"

"Yep, on their way."

*

Weaver failed to make contact with either Paul Fairclough or Callum Young. In frustration and burgeoning panic he dumped that route and reverted to the Open University. Trying to find a different way into personal records, he tried a back door approach and found a partial hit. Many students had been asked to submit references to back up their application, especially those who wanted to study disciplines in which they'd had no formal schooling in their past. In Alex Rossi's case the recommendation was supplied by an Edward Monkhouse. He called Kane but his phone was switched off or he was in a poor signal area. He'd been told by Alice where the fifth body had been found by Edenwell police. Dashing to his car, he asked Reggie to keep trying to reach Kane to say he was on his way with something important.

*

Hugh and Jenny were very circumspect as to whether they'd find any recoverable evidence from what was essentially a deeply charred piece of meat. The latter began looking at the surrounding terrain for clues as to how the body had got there. Hugh said he would like what was left of Aaron Phelps to be brought to the morgue as soon as possible.

"If I can remove sufficient depth of scorched tissue and the underlying layers are not too badly damaged I might find evidence of something other than the obvious burnt to death cause. However, if there is neurotoxin in him it could be miniscule amounts and transposed to elemental carbon anyway. Quite frankly, if you'd told me it was a woman I'd have had to check it for myself, as there's no external indication of anything phallic or testicular."

They were almost finished clearing up when Weaver arrived. He was greeted with being required to explain why he was there.

"Sir, am I right in thinking Alice and yourself would recognise the name of Edward Monkhouse?"

"Yes, of course we do, the retired predecessor of Claire Pearson at Blackford Grammar, what of it?"

"It was his glowing reference which helped Alex Rossi to gain access to an Open University degree course in medical science, supplemented by a master's in synthetic organic chemistry."

"Shit. I knew that old bugger was protecting himself by refusing to say anything to Claire Pearson or us. I should have brought him in days ago. Alice, can you go back with Jenny and Hugh? It might take two of us to get Monkhouse into Weaver's car without manhandling him."

"Sure, no problem."

"Great, and get Jenny on to that tag pronto, no arguments."

*

Monkhouse tried to close the door in their faces, but Kane was too quick, using his muddy brogues as a chock. "You come with us now or we'll ask local uniformed officers to detain you overnight. You must realise that you have unintentionally or deliberately assisted a serial killer. That wasn't a question and the penalties for the latter would see you banged up beyond the years you seem to have left. What's it to be? That is a question."

"Let me get my hat and coat."

"Weaver, go with him, no funny stuff."

*

Kane let the old man sweat for the entire thirty minute ride while he considered the best way to make Monkhouse cough up every possible piece of information about Rossi. Beginning with how the contact regarding the reference for the Open University was made. His gut told him that Monkhouse was, just like the victims, being blackmailed into helping Rossi. It had to be connected to the deal the headmaster had made for his retirement, something which implicated him in the suppression of the rapes and induced suicide of Fatima Ahmed. There was a stench of arse-covering in all of this. Monkhouse's predecessor was in post when the events occurred and was sacked, and yet Monkhouse still took the job. Somebody else had a part in this which they didn't want to surface. Otherwise, why would this old man be so stubborn? One of the governors perhaps, or a local education big wig? This now felt like the last throw of the dice to find Rossi. Having witnessed the blackened corpse of Aaron Phelps, appearing to be nothing more than a cinder, he thought about a possible change of order. He suddenly paused this mental speculation. How do we know it was Aaron Phelps? Apart from the label how could they find out if it was indeed him? Laura's words came back to him. 'Serial killers don't like altering their plans, and if they have to it's an instinctive reaction as well as a logically derived one. It springs from their dual personality disorder, alternating back and forth. They are vulnerable to making errors when in this state'. He would call her before he grilled Monkhouse. He recognised what was riding on this potential pivotal change in modus operandi escalation. He even began to think it could be beneficial to keep Monkhouse in overnight, but that would require charging him with some offence. He desperately needed some respite to think this through calmly. They arrived back at the station while his mind was still in turmoil, so he would ask Alice to kick off proceedings to soften up the headmaster, then Weaver could take over to authenticate the reference given to Rossi. He would make his entry after a short interval and reveal more than he normally would have done, because time was now a critical issue. Then finally deliver a hammer of a question to confront this hypocrite.

# Chapter 24

As they climbed the station stairs, they passed Hugh on his way out. Kane was asked for a moment in private.

"Weaver, can you take Mr Monkhouse to an interview room and alert DS Baxter that she should prepare to question him."

He turned back to Hugh. "The car park might be better."

They stood next to Hugh's car and made sure there was no one else about. "Robert, I've decided to stop any further work on this latest body. The charring is so severe and deep that none of my tests give reliable outcomes, with one exception,"

"Ok, so what test was that?"

"I did find infinitesimal presence of neurotoxin, but honestly, if I hadn't known what I was looking for, I doubt that I would have detected it."

"Right, so that's good news isn't it?"

"There was no evidence of antidote, but again I'm not surprised. My written report will state that every result of the tests are deemed to be unreliable."

"Wonderful. Why bother writing a report, then? Just say Cinder-man, end of."

"Hear me out, Inspector. I'm about to write a separate letter to you. When I removed the entire charred tissue, leaving only the bones, I found an anomaly, but not a scientific one. I estimated the height of the individual would have been around five feet six inches when adding back the small amount to compensate for tissue removal. I then asked Alice to let me see the infamous photograph depicting that class of 1989, and she pointed out the victim who'd been labelled as err... Andrew..."

"Aaron Phelps, yes, go on."

"Well, when Alice then pointed out the person you'd expected it to be, he was standing in the front line with the other smaller boys, whereas this Aaron was in the back line."

"Give me strength, Hugh, is there a point to all this?"

The boy in the front line correlates with my estimate of height."

"And you haven't considered that the bloody photo was taken ten years ago, when they were still at school? Paul Fairclough probably kept growing after the age of seventeen."

"Indeed, but how did Aaron Phelps begin to shrink? The photograph indicates he was at least six feet two!"

"Ah, now I see what you're getting at, sorry, Hugh. You must think I'm a bit of a numpty."

"No, not really, but Alice might. She got there ahead of my own conclusion being verbalised."

*

Alice asked Edward Monkhouse if he'd like a drink.

"No, thank you. I'd like to get this over with and get back to walk my dog."

"We'll do our best, sir. Now then, I'm sorry to go over this again but we have reason to believe the suicide of Fatima Ahmed is in some way connected to these murders. I don't know if you're aware that all four victims we've identified attended your old school?"

There was no reply. "Well?"

Still nothing. Alice raised a different question.

"Do you want a solicitor to be present, Mr Monkhouse?"

"Why would I need a solicitor? Those deaths have nothing to do with me."

"If that's the case, sir, we need to eliminate you formally from suspicion. At this time we're only asking for your help. So, does the name Eleanor Wright mean anything to you?"

"Asking questions to which you already know the answer would seem to be a waste of your time and mine."

"What about Henry Sanderson?"

"This is absolutely outrageous. Of course I know these names, they were both very intelligent people and were a credit to the school."

"Yes, that would appear so. I just wondered why they both in their different ways were traumatised by certain goings on in their final years at Blackford Grammar. Forgive me, I should have said Eleanor was traumatised, Henry was merely disgusted."

"Look, can you please get to the point. I can't sit here all day, I won't sit here all day."

"Very well, sir. I'll leave it at that. My colleague, Detective Constable Weaver has a few questions he'd like to ask you. Please remain seated."

He was left on his own and observed by all three officers. As soon as Monkhouse began to fidget Kane told Weaver to enter the interview room and begin his interrogation.

"Good afternoon, sir. I wanted to understand why you submitted a glowing reference to the Open University for an Alex Rossi, whom I believe is a former student of Blackford Grammar?"

Monkhouse was clearly becoming exasperated.

"Is that against the law?"

"I'm asking the questions, sir. And that was a simple question."

"Very well. Rossi was a bright boy, a little misguided but as often is the case he matured later than most pupils. I thought he deserved to better himself. That's all."

"Even though you knew the recommendation was for a formidable science course, and he had never even considered a career related to that subject. At your school he did languages, literature and art."

Monkhouse was definitely ruffled.

"That's exactly what I meant. He'd been misguided."

"So, how did he turn out? Did he obtain the qualifications he desired?"

"Couldn't say one way or another. He never demonstrated the courtesy to let me know."

"Really? You must have been hurt by that. Sounds terribly ungrateful to me. Oh well, that's all I wanted to ask. Please remain here. DCI Kane wants a word with you."

"This is preposterous, no wonder you lot get nicknamed plods. That would seem to be well-deserved. I may change my mind about asking for a solicitor. Either that or I'm leaving in two minutes."

"I don't think that's wise, sir. We have to discharge our duty. I'm sure Detective Chief Inspector Kane will be here very soon."

Kane kept him waiting for just over the two minutes then burst into the room. "Right, I understand you're in a hurry to get home. I only have two questions so I'll ask them both in sequence, and you can answer them in your own time. Actually, they are related to one another. I want to know exactly what the terms were for your early retirement settlement and whether the reference you gave to Alex Rossi was your way of ensuring he didn't carry out a threat of blackmail which would blow a hole in the terms of that settlement. Be very careful, Mr Monkhouse, the recorder is still running. You need to consider the charges you could face if your statement is later found to have obstructed our investigation. You can decline to answer of course. I'll leave you here to think about it. Just knock on the door, whatever you decide and an officer will contact me to come back and see what it is you want to do."

They watched him visibly wrestle with what his next move should be. Twice he made for the door and twice he didn't knock. His eyes were closed most of the time and his fists clenched.

"I think it worked, folks," exclaimed Kane, "well done, both of you. All he's doing now is weighing up the risk of Rossi squealing to someone versus having to face court proceedings."

Alice pointed to the screen again. "Looks like he's about to make his mind up, guv. There we are, he knocked."

The officer outside the door responded, nodded his head and then closed it again. He was presumably on his way to see Kane.

*

Monkhouse wanted his solicitor. Kane complied and asked if he had the number handy. The phone was provided and Monkhouse rang the number from memory. The conversation was very brief, but quite feisty judging by Monkhouse's choice of words

"She will be here between fifteen and twenty minutes from now."

"Good. So what shall we do while we wait? I can leave you here on your own or we can get you some refreshment from a machine. I'll get back to my day job. Is there anything else you might want?"

"No. I want to speak with my solicitor outside the building if that can be arranged. It may take several minutes as I have to understand my rights and obligations under the law."

"In that case, take all the time you need. We just want to get to the truth, Mr Monkhouse. This whole investigation could be cleared up if I could sit here and interview Alex Rossi. I wouldn't need to bother you at all. Might be worth mentioning that to your legal advisor."

*

It was nearer an hour before the solicitor's car screeched into the car park. Monkhouse was escorted to the vehicle and he sat in the passenger seat. Their exchange took a lot longer than several minutes. Kane began to get a little frustrated, knocked on the car windscreen and pointed to the reception desk, at which Alice was already standing. They took another few minutes before finally leaving the car. Silence prevailed until they'd entered the interview room again. The solicitor spoke first.

"My client is here of his own volition and is prepared for you to ask questions and for me to reply on his behalf. I understand he hasn't been charged with anything and not cautioned so far, is that correct?"

"Not entirely," said Kane, "Mr Monkhouse has been asked to help with our enquiries on two previous occasions and chose to say nothing, which of course is his right. Today he was politely asked to come to the station because we had discovered certain indicators which confirmed he could assist us in investigating a series of murders. He has had contact with a person of interest and we wanted to give him another opportunity to help us. So, he isn't here completely voluntarily. Splitting hairs, but we need to be as precise as possible for the tape. I already explained some time ago to your client that depending on how our investigation progresses, he could knowingly or unknowingly have obstructed the investigation. I'm happy to play this either way. I could caution him formally, or charge him with another offence. Perhaps this is being escalated out of proportion. If he has nothing to hide then why won't he help us? We know he wasn't directly involved in any of the aforementioned killings, so his reluctance to speak to us is rather confusing. Just tell us what you want to do and then I can decide if a formal caution or a charge will follow, and be recorded along with everything I've just said."

The solicitor asked for a minute of privacy. It was granted and Kane decided to grab a coffee, not because he wanted caffeine, but to let them dangle for a while. The solicitor knocked on the door again and asked the uniformed officer outside to tell Kane they were ready to continue.

"My client has obviously misunderstood precisely why he was being repeatedly asked to surrender details of a personal nature which could prejudice certain legal agreements already in place with his pension provider. He suggests you ask your questions again, and I will advise him how to reply. Now that we understand there is no intention to associate him with direct involvement in the killings you referred to, he is prepared to offer what help he can."

"Fine," said Kane, "we haven't been able to trace a man named Alex Rossi. He attended Mr Monkhouse's school and approached him years later about a reference for the Open University. If we can obtain information which can help us locate Alex Rossi, our interest in Mr Monkhouse will end. Surely Mr Monkhouse has some knowledge of the address, the workplace, or the parents of this man, he'd surely have been given details of the person he was officially recommending to an educational body."

This time the huddle was brief. "My client can provide some of those details on condition that he receives adequate assurance that it will guarantee him immunity from any further questioning in this murder inquiry."

Kane could hardly disguise his contempt. "I can assure him that this department will not need to speak to him again about direct involvement in the said case, but I can't say that he will be immune from any future investigation by a different department or force for any other reason."

Monkhouse checked that this had all been recorded and folded his arms, and at last spoke for himself. "Alex Rossi's address at the time of me sending the reference is written on this sheet of paper. His employer at that time had to be contacted by myself and is on the reverse side of the sheet. I know nothing of his parents other than they pretty much disowned him a few years earlier than his application to the Open University."

# Chapter 25

Five Days Later

June 2000

The information provided by Edward Monkhouse turned out to be the Curate's Egg, an amalgam of good and bad news. The address was now inhabited by an elderly couple, one of whom was wheelchair-bound. The other had never heard the name Alex Rossi.

However, the name of the company on the reverse side of the sheet proved more useful. It was based in Ryecliffe, comfortably within commuting distance to Winfield Bridge.

Getting access to their records wasn't going to be easy. It was made clear to Kane and Alice that details of precisely what they provided to several state bodies was subject to the strictest non-disclosure clauses. The umbrella term of 'pan-medicinal techniques' was quoted as being the shield which they had to respect.

"That could cover anything," insisted Kane, "even treatment of my haemorrhoids. You must go through piles of paperwork every day."

The CEO brushed his sarcasm aside. "You won't get any more information from me. You're welcome to try your luck elsewhere."

"Fair enough. Are you able to confirm whether a particular person works or worked here?"

"Certainly not for current employees. Depending on the name, and if they were previously employed but dismissed for breaches of contract, we may be able to give a simple yes or no response."

"Better than nothing I suppose. We really want to speak to a man named Alex Rossi. I'm not interested in finding out what he was working on, only where he might be at present."

"Ah, well, he was with us for some time, until we discovered that he was frequently breaking the cardinal rule of taking documents off site. There is no way back for such an offence. He disappeared before his official disciplinary hearing and despite all efforts by parties I cannot mention, he has eluded us."

"Are you able to tell us when this occurred?"

"Just over two years ago. Maybe I shouldn't be saying this, but I sincerely hope you can run him to ground, and we would want to speak with him ourselves if and when that became possible."

"Right, so if we need to scratch each other's back then, give me the address he has on his personnel record. As long as it isn't this one, a remote cottage, he apparently vacated it more than four years ago."

After checking the system the CEO scribbled down a new location for Kane and Alice to check out.

*

The seesaw tipped against the detectives once more. The timing could not have been worse. Knox and the Chief Constable had capitulated to public concern and media pressure to just get out there and find this monster. The manhunt was reintroduced having received more funding and resource. Kane was furious about their failure to consult him before authorising this new blitz, which in his opinion was a useless blunt instrument, when a surgical scalpel was required. He and Alice were convinced that this folly would instantly derail what he'd just been handed by the CEO of Rycliffe Tech Corporation.

Even if Rossi wasn't at the address given to them there may well have been evidence there pointing to the caravan they were told he was living in by Linda Bainbridge.

"What have we got to lose, guv? Let's just go there and talk to any neighbours who could help, or if it's empty we send Jenny to take a look."

"You're right, it just pisses me off when we get checkmated by our own people. All we needed was a delay of another day or so."

*

Weaver had been asked to dig into Ryecliffe Tech, rather than Kane simply accepting what the pompous CEO told him as being the full story on classified information. He'd spent hours checking the links on the internet and following them up by phone where possible. There was nothing showing up which registered as significant in terms of state funded projects. Ryecliffe Tech was indeed a privately registered limited company, yet there was a dearth of information regarding what kind of products were involved. Weaver began to think there were no physical products which would fit in a box or be shipped anywhere. All the hallmarks pointed to a service oriented organisation, like ghostbusters, solving problems nobody else knew existed. At last he located a single photograph of a number of staff in white coats. There he was, Alex Rossi, along with a dozen others, named as if they were a local football team which had just won a trophy

*

Alex Rossi was seriously regretting the knee jerk reaction which led to the incineration of Paul Fairclough. His discovery of his missing filing cabinet had sent him into a temporary spiral, in which he'd lost control over events. He envisaged this as his first mistake and it was now compounded by the return of a massive police manhunt. Nevertheless, what was done could not be undone, so his masterplan had to be adjusted once more if he was going to achieve extermination of the ten, not counting Harvey Brewster. The immediate task in hand required a decision over Callum Young, who'd become a clear and present threat. The sheer scale of the manhunt had become so visible that Callum was living in dread of his family being butchered. Rossi's perverse logic alighted on the prospect that Callum could well perceive a safety net by going to the police and offering information in exchange for protection. The rest could wait, Callum had to die, and the chain from blackmail to disposal of corpses needed to cease. More direct unassisted executions would become the new norm. This in itself was justified by the latest media coverage impact, which was now intently focussing on the victims all being from Blackford Grammar school. Those remaining on the list could surely suspect by now that they may also be in his sights. His new modus operandi would begin with Aaron Phelps, who had not as yet been threatened in order to become the next disposal man. This meant he would have to modify his motorcycle and hook it up to a trailer capable of carrying a body, because Callum had to be taken care of first.

*

What Rossi could not have known was precisely what Linda Bainbridge could have or could not have told the police about his abode. The dilapidated cottage and accompanying shed were no longer of any value, merely his previous data storage locations. Linda's late husband had been told by Rossi that he'd lived in a caravan out in the sticks, when in reality he hadn't. Had she unknowingly laid this false trail? He could only hope that was the case, but couldn't rely upon it. He'd never disclosed where he did reside. As far as he was aware, not a single person knew that he was enjoying the cover of a country lodge by the sea. It was located in a large managed park with at least another fifty such retreats. His routine was however, designed around isolation, interacting with others only when it was unavoidable. Dressed in oversized Motor cycling leathers, helmet and goggles gave him the appearance of a man with no spinal deformation. In short, he was hiding in plain sight, and was continually scouring the news for any suggestion that the manhunt was continuing the search for a recluse, living completely off the beaten track. After all, the police were probably responsible for stealing his filing cabinet. In fact if they'd already been there it would be safe to go back and burn both the cottage and shed to the ground, leading the police to believe it was still the operating centre of his atrocities. If he set the properties ablaze at night it would also be a perfect place to finish off Callum Young and finalise plans for Aaron Phelps. He liked the idea of Kane & Co figuring out that he'd abandoned his controlled and prolonged painful expiry of future victims. He made the call.

"Callum, it's me. No, don't hang up. I have good news for you, I'm just calling to say I don't need you to get involved with moving more bodies. But just in case you were thinking of speaking with the law about my whereabouts, don't forget you're an accomplice of mine already. The police would charge you as a co-conspirator to whatever crime they charge me with. All I want from you now is to help with burning down my own cottage and cabin in the woods. That has to be done so that neither of us can be connected with the charred body those 'mafia' bastards made me get rid of as settlement of my debt to them. We can do it tonight and that's us done. Then I have no reason to harm your family. I'm truly sorry about ever involving you but I had nowhere else to turn."

"You said that we were done when we dumped that charred body. We're already even. I'm not getting involved in any more crap with you."

"I've just said I was desperate and I regret what they forced me to do. If I could burn the cottage and cabin down myself I wouldn't be troubling you. Surely you can see that this gets both of us off the hook altogether. If not, I'll have to think about your daughter. I have a complete dossier on her routines. You and your wife can't be with her all the time. Look, don't be a pigmy brain all your life. It's legally my cottage and shed, by setting fire to it any evidence of our presence, which is there already, will be lost. I'm trying to help you here. Then I'm getting out of this country forever."

"How did you get mixed up in all this? Some prick using leverage over you? They must know you couldn't handle this by yourself."

"I got into serious debt gambling at their casino in town. They don't do zero interest loans. I could never have found anyone who'd loan me that amount of cash. It was a simple choice, get rid of this other person who'd just been incinerated by them or be the next into the crematorium. I didn't want to threaten you but when I bumped into you that morning and we chatted about old times I panicked and thought you would help me. Once I'd told you what these thugs expected of me and you refused, I had just let you feel what it's like to be trapped. I didn't want to threaten you, but you were my last hope, I had to get rid of the body the next day."

"So, who was the charred guy?"

"I haven't a clue. And I didn't want to know. I can tell you have no idea how these thugs operate. They have to ensure nobody but nobody fucks them over, otherwise everybody would. Where the hell was I going to get fifty grand? Look, I can pick you up about nine, it'll be dark, we shoot over to the cottage and torch it, and then I'll drop you off within an hour. It's done and I'm on a plane tomorrow. You don't want any means of them finding our DNA at the cottage, do you? How would that look to your wife and kid? I need to gather enough wood to make sure the two structures are completely destroyed, and that would take too long to do myself before somebody in the surroundings calls the fire service."

"Ok, I'll be ready. And after this I don't want to hear from you again or I will take my chances with the police."

Rossi was relieved that Callum complied as it was only a matter of time before the police put a name together with the description they'd given the media in relation to the search. Their policy of keeping back information which would alert the target, hoping that would prevent them from going underground completely, was pivotal for his survival.

*

The bonfire was ready to go. Rossi had taken two full petrol cans in the trailer. The only detail left for him to take care of was the actual departure after the blaze was underway. It had been hard work gathering up substantial numbers of logs in the dark. They'd both taken off their jackets and rolled up their shirt sleeves before striking several matches, placing them at different points around both the cottage and the cabin.

As the flickering woodpile spread and became an inferno Callum was surprisingly enjoying such wanton vandalism, a throwback to being a naughty schoolboy, as Rossi retrieved their jackets.

"Come on, Callum, let's get the hell out of here."

He handed him the jacket and ran back to the parked motorcycle. Rossi was silently counting as he placed the empty petrol cans in the trailer. It was taking longer than he expected. Then he smiled to himself.

"Shit," shouted Callum, "something just bit me."

He took off his jacket again and was horrified to see a funnel web spider falling to the ground. Rossi had placed it in the inside pocket and knew the motion of running through the undergrowth would cause it to get angry. He calmly picked it up with a pair of tweezers and dropped it into an empty container.

"Don't panic, Callum. It won't be too long before you feel no more pain."

"For hell's sake, what have you done? You bastard, take me to hospital, I need some kind of treatment. If you don't help me I'll throw your measly little arse into the inferno."

"No point, that spider is about the most lethal on the planet."

"Shit, you have to help me, I'm begging you. Get the motorbike started, I'm starting to feel dizzy and my vision is narrowing."

"You mean just as you helped Fatima Ahmed and all those girls who were raped by your lot? I don't think so. I did say somebody would alert the fire brigade. I have to get out of here. You'll be fine, in about an hour you'll either be dead or an ambulance will be taking you to hospital. It won't do any good though, and it's even more frustrating for you that anybody who could have helped, didn't. Still, chin up, Callum, your family are safe, just as innocent people should be."

Callum began to scream at Rossi, but the neurotoxin had already begun to disable his motor functions. He dropped to his knees and watched helplessly as the motorbike disappeared into the backdrop of flames and smoke.

# Chapter 26

A nocturnal bird watcher was the first person to see the flames and had already contacted the fire service. He had used his binoculars to estimate a reasonably accurate position of the fire. The twitcher's hide from which he called it in was more than a quarter of a mile from the blaze.

They arrived within twenty five minutes and had passed on news of the incident to the ambulance service which was over half an hour behind. One of the crew was checking for anything which might suggest human life could be under threat when he heard faint moaning sounds some distance from the fire itself. Callum had dragged himself as far as he could from the encroaching heat wall. The fireman called one of his colleagues over.

"This man doesn't seem to be suffering from burns or smoke inhalation, but I can't make out what he's trying to tell me. Let's get him to a safer distance and inform the incoming ambulance that there's at least one person needing medical attention."

Callum's eyes displayed his inner horror of having someone there to help him but the words just wouldn't come. His vocal chords were no longer of any use in articulation of his plight. The fireman laid him down and covered him with a fireproof blanket then returned to assist with getting the blaze under control.

How would the ambulance people know what was wrong with him? What could they do even if they did know what had happened? Where would his wife think he was and why was he so late coming home? He began to vomit along with spasms of uncontrolled arm and leg movements, which were nothing like how he was trying to move them. His brain was systematically shutting down and unless medical help arrived very soon he'd become completely unable to see, moan or move his jawbone.

So far Rossi's plan was intact. The next sign of success would only come with the police being notified of Callum's death. He returned to his lodge, making sure he disrobed from his leathers and helmet inside, and without the lights on. He did not want to wait too long before tackling Aaron Phelps. Time was the key factor right now. His own latest health prognosis wasn't good news. Originally he was told that three to five years was possible with targeted treatment. However, his condition had suffered a recent setback. He'd known since he left school that his spinal disorder rendered him prone to cancerous growths, but he had pinned his hopes on being young and tenacious, which might enable him to live well beyond fifty. Coming to terms with dying at thirty-five or forty made him angrier than he already was regarding the injustices of the past. It was the same trigger which had initially shaped his vigilante attitude to do something about it instead of continually festering like a eunuch. Several legal appeals had been turned down and he saw himself as the only recourse those girls had for closure. Above all, Fatima's death would be avenged. He had to fulfil that pledge no matter if it meant the odd risk had to be taken.

*

For the detectives, Ryecliffe Tech had now become the sole focus. They had no influence over the methodology of the manhunt, which had failed spectacularly by anyone's assessment.

The information given by the pompous CEO was sketchy and possibly heavily censored, but the group photograph of laboratory employees had proven more interesting. A second visit to Ryecliffe Tech coincided with the CEO being away on business. Sitting in the canteen while waiting for his deputy had allowed them to casually chat with two workers who were on the payroll when Rossi worked there. However, speaking with them only served to confirm Rossi had simply fed them bullshit about living with his parents, who apparently had a farm near Winfield Bridge. There couldn't be more than one farmer named Rossi in such a small community. All the two workers could add to this was that he was a loner, never initiating conversation, no social hobbies they were aware of. He was respected for his ability in the lab, but didn't invite friendship. Kane felt that if his team couldn't obtain significant help from the parents the investigation was effectively neutralised. His gut told him they had to take the risk of speaking to the remaining names on the list. Knox had to get this through his thick skull. He spoke to Laura Francis again, primarily to update her.

"I'm sorry to hear this, Inspector. It would appear that your superiors are acting out of fear of criticism rather than trying to understand what makes this person tick. Whatever I could suggest would no doubt be rejected by them."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're right, but I'd still like to hear what you'd do if we'd be free to implement it. It's crystal clear to me that Alex Rossi is rattled about something."

"I think I'd look at it from another angle. Abandoning the rush he got from making his victims feel the pain for as long as possible before dying is probably a revenge path. Letting them feel what it was like for the females who were abused in different ways with no recourse to people supposed to be protecting them. He won't have forfeited that cleansing ritual willingly. That he has done so is a really major concession. Correct me if I've got it wrong, the charred body was found within a short time following the man who'd had his genitals removed."

"Yes."

"So, that in itself is significant. The first three killings were months apart. Also a means of spinning out the pleasure of contradicting judicial annulment. I'd be looking for whatever would be powerful enough to cause such a primal shift in behaviour of someone who was convinced he was in total control. It's highly likely you will be confronted with more frequent deaths from now on. I hope this is helpful. It would carry considerable risk to interfere by taking only the family of the next man on the list into protection, as the killer would then probably switch targets. If I had to make such a decision I would have to find a way of protecting all of the families. Even then he could shift his focus to random members of that class who weren't on the list, merely because unlike himself they did nothing but turn a blind eye to the rapes and suicide. In his eyes that is also a crime. And yet what I'm suggesting is not really practical, you couldn't keep that many people safe in perpetuity. For what it's worth, I'd arrange a meeting to speak with the next scheduled victim in a place not accessible to Rossi. Set out a failsafe method for the target to be able to contact you if he does get approached by Rossi. A covert operation to catch them together could be tricky, but the target might well prefer that to exposing his loved ones to direct attack. However, from what you said at the outset I can't see your boss authorising such a gamble."

"Maybe not, Laura, but I'll think about it. Perhaps they don't need to know what I'm up to."

"Sure, but what if it backfired?"

"I'm almost at retiring age anyway. I think I'd go at the end of the year even if we had this monster locked up already. Thanks for your time. Speak to you again soon."

*

The hospital emergency crew figured out pretty quickly that Callum Young had been poisoned in some way. The leading doctor had the presence of mind to tell one of his subordinates to inform the police.

Callum was by now having breathing difficulties and the option of a ventilator was being discussed. The blood tests would take time and that was not a luxury the patient had. The decision on what to do next was suddenly taken out of their hands. The monitor beeped continuously and the customary flat-line graphic made its way across the screen.

Contacting the police again was now mandatory. However, that information did have to work its way from the front desk to the appropriate member of the force. The first call had been handed to a mobile uniform response unit at the hospital and had been treated as pretty routine, not critically urgent. The second landed in DC Weaver's lap. He immediately recognised the name of Callum Young and sought out Kane.

"Bollocks," was the reply, "she was right."

"Who, sir? Alice?"

"Doesn't matter. Forget I said that. Inform Alice now, I have to see Knox right away. Go with Alice to the hospital and make sure the body is placed under lock and key. I'll alert Hugh."

"Will do, sir. What about Jenny, should I...?"

"We'll talk the talk later, just get to the hospital before they mess about with that body."

*

Back in his abode, Rossi was downing a cold Coors Light beer in relative peace and quiet. He'd already been working out his strategy to approach Aaron Phelps. His dossier didn't offer any stand out location or means of isolating the man. The influence of his latest medical prognosis weighed heavily on his mind. Risk was becoming relative, competing with simply getting the mission done. In any case, this one wasn't complicated by freezing, antidote, or recovery of the murder weapon. One less funnel web pet was a reasonable sacrifice to make. Aaron was a keen cricketer, being his team's legendary fast bowler. An afternoon in the sun watching the match as a paying fan was near perfect cover. All he had to do was pick the best way to deliver the arachnid without being seen. He would work on that. In the meantime, there was the small matter of keeping his morphine dosage under control. His supply of slow acting tablets and immediate pain relief of liquid versions had to be balanced and taken at regularly prescribed times. He was content with the challenge of a public execution, being entwined with, and acting as upset as the rest of the horrified onlookers. What a statement that would deliver after he passed away himself. He drifted off to sleep, having set the alarm for an early start.

*

When they were briefed by the doctor, Alice made the hospital staff aware of their need to move the body into police care after the pathologist had conducted his own inspection. "We will also have to inform his next of kin. There is justification for us to take care of that as well, this is now a murder investigation, so please give us whatever ID you found on him."

Her statements weren't challenged. She took the ID and rushed back to the station. As soon as she'd finished briefing Kane, he headed straight to his boss's office.

Knox at first was perplexed. "How can this have happened while we were hunting down this man with half of the damned regional police force?"

"Sorry to say this, sir, but together with DS Baxter I did flag this up when the first manhunt was authorised, and again before the second was set in motion. It simply illustrates how devious and resourceful this man is."

"You almost sound as if you're sympathetic to him being able to thwart every move we make."

"No way, my job is to identify criminals, arrest them and then other arms of the justice system take over. I'm as frustrated as anyone about this, but we have to acknowledge that what we're dealing with here is no ordinary criminal. We have to outmanoeuvre this guy. Just throwing hundreds of officers with no understanding of how his mind works is never going to achieve success, in fact it motivates him. But you're the boss, so what do you want me to do? We know who we're looking for, and rather than this blitzkrieg manhunt operation, why don't we try to tempt him out?"

"Go on, explain exactly how you want to get him into the open if we were to abandon a mass search."

"I'll need time to finesse what I said, sir, but we most definitely need to speak with the targets on the list, starting with Aaron Phelps, and I want to speak to him right now. I wasn't suggesting total abandonment of the search. Just have a discrete task force in readiness to swoop at the right moment. Can we flesh this out in the morning?"

"Very well, but I need explicit detail before I bounce this off you know who."

"Yes, but I should see Phelps in the meantime. That simply can't wait."

"Calm down, I need more justification."

"Maybe, but his life is seriously under threat now. Rossi has become too unpredictable. I'm going to see him."

"No. You will await my clearance with the Chief Constable, and that's an end to this discussion, DCI Kane."

# Chapter 27

Kane was in a rage. "Alice, you couldn't make it up, Knox and the Chief Constable have blocked me from approaching Aaron Phelps. I've got a very bad feeling about this inertia and the real reason for it. They're just sitting on the fence, and now they're asking me to devise an alternative undercover operation, which I'm sure will just be window dressing. Not getting Phelps into a safe house is a seriously big mistake."

"Unbelievable. You need to express your concern in writing, boss. They are just covering their posteriors, you need to do the same."

"I know. I'll do exactly that, and then try to get my head around this undercover shit. We have to do something."

*

Callum Young's wife had already contacted her local police station while he'd been helping Rossi. Her sixth sense about his demeanour led her to believe there was something seriously wrong. He'd been evasive for some time. She'd half prepared herself for a revelation that he was having an affair. But when he hadn't come home by eleven o'clock she suspected he may have had an accident. She wasn't able to get any assurance from the local police that they would even look into him not showing up. They simply said she should call back the next morning and that he would most probably turn up before then.

When the doorbell rang her daughter was fast asleep. Switching on the hallway light she could see the silhouette of a police uniform and another person through the frosted glass door. Her heart skipped a beat as she pulled the door back with trepidation. Alice flashed her warrant card and asked if they could come in.

"Mrs Young, I'm afraid I have some bad news. I have to ask you if there is anyone who can look after your daughter early tomorrow morning."

"What's happened? It's Callum, isn't it? I told the local police something must have happened to him, but they just kept telling me he'd come home. I've been on the phone to all of his friends, nobody knows where he is?"

"I'm very sorry to tell you that Callum has been found and taken to hospital, but he passed away before they could treat him. We found ID in his clothes and we are sure it is Callum, but we do have to conduct a formal identification process. I understand how upsetting this must be and if you can't face identifying him yourself, is there another relative who can perform that task?"

"What happened to him? Was he involved in an accident? He just went out to meet a friend and said he'd be back in an hour. How can he be dead?"

"Mrs Young, I'm afraid we haven't been able to find out exactly what happened to him. All I can say at this time is that we are treating his death as suspicious. I'm sure we'll have to speak with you again when we know more. I don't want to intrude on your grief tonight, but I can stay here until a family member or good friend can be with you."

The shock was temporarily replaced by a need to do something. "His parents live close by, but I'd prefer to ask my own mother to come and take Suzy to school tomorrow. I can't wake her and tell her about this until I figure out the best way. If my mother can come tonight I want to come with you now to see my husband. I want to know what happened. I want to talk with the hospital staff who tried to save him. Can you take me there?"

She became unsteady on her feet and grasped the arm of the sofa, falling on to it, unable to contain the second wave of shock. Alice comforted her as best she could. "I think you need your mother here now. Dial the number and I'll speak with her."

Alice waited until the mother arrived and spoke to her in private. "Your daughter shouldn't go to the hospital at this time of night, she's already shaking with grief, and anyway the doctor who tried to save Callum's life won't be there until tomorrow. I can return at nine in the morning to collect whoever will be going to the hospital to face the trauma of seeing Callum."

The mother agreed and comforted her daughter as best she could. Alice left the house and rang Weaver at the hospital, telling him to go home and try to get some sleep. "I get the feeling all hell is going to break loose tomorrow. Have a good breakfast, there won't be time for lunch."

She had to compartmentalise such stomach churning tasks and the consequent practicalities of the job she'd chosen.

*

Kane's gambit with Knox was in full flow. The former was surprised that it hadn't been rejected out of hand. "So, just run me through the mechanics of how this trap will be set and the contingencies you have in mind if some element goes wrong, Robert."

"You do accept that this alternative undercover charade isn't my recommendation. It's yours and I've put that in writing."

"Yes, get on with it."

"I'll try, sir, but there are no guarantees with the kind of manoeuvre you're suggesting. I would never want to put a single life at risk just to snare a killer if it wasn't a nailed on certainty of more victims being found, because we decided to do nothing."

"I get that, Robert, but we still have to quantify risk. It's a sad fact that whenever a police officer is killed while trying to protect the public, the press do discriminate between such a scenario and that of an officer of the law killing a criminal who is threatening to kill them. If we're going to consider involving this pervert's next target in our operation, we must devise a means to extract them at any stage to avoid that kind of scrutiny. Actually, I'm unable to understand why the remaining people on this list of targets haven't come to us before now. We have six deaths to date, all former pupils of the same school. I'd be bricking it if I was one of them."

"I've also thought about that a hell of a lot recently. Of course, there are many items of information not yet in the public domain, but that can only be part of the reason. This Rossi has chapter and verse dossiers on every target and the detail is mind blowing. He even had notes showing his advance schedule of contacting each one of them. So, at least now we can also track the targets ourselves with proper integrated surveillance, using experienced officers. It would also require all regular police units to keep away from surveillance operatives. If we can replace the threats Rossi has made with our protection we have to interview all remaining targets. I keep stressing that like a wound up cuckoo clock. Even if it's only to ascertain which ones he hasn't approached yet. That is key because his notes tell us he doesn't make contact too long before he strikes. If we can break the chain we're half way there, and if we do it right we'll grab him during his first meeting with the new target."

"The more you talk about this, the more I'm getting cold feet. This plan could turn out to be a logistical nightmare."

Kane seriously regretted his concession to having any part in this plan.

"So, what's the alternative? You, the Chief Constable and yours truly are potentially facing a ferocious and deserved trashing by the media. Careers would be lost, and lost without saving lives. I admit I'm glad it isn't my call. His nibs has to be confronted with the choice of a rock and a hard place. I want to stress that all of the evidence points to Rossi shortening the interval between target deaths dramatically. Something is forcing him out of his comfort zone, we have to disrupt his schedule while we have the time, sir."

"Let's go and see the CC then. I'm not hopeful but I can identify with the danger of this killer achieving the elimination of every target within weeks if not days."

*

Hugh hadn't taken long to check for the familiar blue patch on Callum's back, and as yet there was no sign of it. However, there were clear bite marks which indicated possible spider fangs. Apart from the fact that the man had been in the midst of a forest fire, it was known he was alive when the fire crew found him. Together with the lack of antidote presence, the circumstances confirmed these were significant anomalies compared to earlier deaths. He passed his findings to Alice.

"There isn't much more I can say other than the level of neurotoxin was huge compared to the other bodies I examined. Antidote or not, this poor man was never going to survive. It may mean that any further killings will not leave any window of recovery at all. From what I know of this toxin it is possible to counteract a small single amount if the correct antidote is administered within a short time. If your perpetrator continues with this method his prey will die before intervention can be considered. The strikes must be thwarted, but how? It's not as if his weapon was a gun or a knife, requiring accuracy in inflicting the subsequent wound. The bite would be fatal wherever it takes place. Jenny asked me to pass on her view that the site where he was found is understandably a complete forensic blank."

"Thanks, Hugh. I'll let the boss know as soon as I can."

*

Rossi was now convinced he had no need to threaten Aaron Phelps or any subsequent target. He would still miss the meticulous, in his view, elegant planning for each victim. The phase he'd been forced into had diminished the savouring of the symbolic retrospective role of judge and jury. A cleansing of the soul. In the case of Aaron, he was also a little sad. Peer pressure had dragged him into condonation of the rapes by saying nothing. He hadn't ever participated in the atrocities other than declining a role of whistle-blower. He'd never displayed any disrespectful behaviour toward Fatima, but yet again stayed in the shadows of neutrality. That couldn't be said of previous victims other than Harvey Brewster. So, in the final analysis one had to either be part of the solution or part of the problem. Being an observer still had a vicarious element to it, and that in his view warranted the ultimate punishment.

The main conundrum on this Saturday was how to access Aaron's jacket without raising suspicion. The pavilion was never locked because the breaks for lunch and tea required staff to prepare the meals and ensure the toilets were properly cleaned and stocked with their accoutrements. Rossi had already conducted intensive reconnaissance at a previous match and knew he'd have to gain access to the changing rooms from the toilets where there was an adjoining unlocked door. He decided on using a relatively quiet glass cutting tool at the rear window where a thick laurel hedge would offer perfect cover. This had the benefit, unlike the death of Callum Young, to return to his seat and watch the unfolding drama. Not quite as effectual as talking with the condemned as he did with Callum, but not total detachment either.

He hadn't bargained for anything remotely like the plan Kane was being asked to execute. Knowledge of it would have inevitably caused him to review the situation. On the other hand, he wasn't fazed by the prospect of the police knowing whether he had or had not contacted Aaron Phelps in any way. His plan would work either way. Unseen access to the pavilion was his major concern.

*

The meeting with the Chief Constable was prickly if not outright antagonistic. He liked many aspects of what was essentially his own plan. Withdrawing masses of ineffective resource was a big plus. However, he accepted that the precarious act of fishing with human bait was risky. He was also sceptical in regard to the time pressure being too intense. It didn't allow for rehearsed robust coordination of the concept of rotating the various surveillance teams.

"Give me a plan which isn't dependent on decisions being taken by those individual operatives on surveillance, rather than those whose responsibility is to coordinate. It really is a question of the architects of the plan taking full responsibility."

"I can't provide a no-risk blueprint, sir. The concept itself is flawed. Neither Superintendent Knox nor you have touched on the list itself. It wouldn't be well received, when and not if, the public discover we've had it for a considerable time but made no real use of it, while the entire death plan is subsequently completed on your watch. That list, which we've had for several weeks, is both a means of stopping Rossi in his tracks and a stick of dynamite blowing up in our faces. We've had at least one killing which could have been prevented if we'd not gone the route of a mass manhunt. It will then become a fair question for the press to ask exactly what use we made of such a game changing opportunity. We'll be judged by the wisdom of hindsight. If neither of you are comfortable with my tweaking of what is essentially your suggestion I'll brief my team to pull the plug on preparations."

Knox had been quiet to this point.

"DCI Kane has a point, sir. Robert, can you give me a few minutes on my own with the Chief Constable?"

"Certainly, I need a pit stop anyway."

It proved to be longer than a few minutes. Returning to the inner sanctum as often as not, reveals a hybrid decision.

"DCI Kane, your superintendent and I have agreed to a compromise. A pilot test of our plan. Working backwards from the final name on the list, whom we believe will not have been approached by Rossi as yet, they can be acquainted with the danger they face and offered safe house protection. After that has been set up we would also contact the current target, this err...let me see...yes, Aaron Phelps by special arrangements, in a highly secret place. If he has been blackmailed already we just follow our plan whether or not he agrees to protection. If he hasn't been threatened we follow the same guidelines we originally suggested, but critically do not let him know that is what is happening. We can't make him so nervous that he makes Rossi back off with the attendant mutation of modus operandi he could then devise. This way we minimise the validity of criticism that we did nothing with the list we have."

Kane could hardly believe what he was hearing. They'd concocted a way of diverting blame ahead of prioritising saving lives. His facial expression of disgust had no discernible effect on either of them. He set off to pick up Alice, phoning her to give her advance notice of the urgency.

"We're going to speak with Aaron Phelps at some time yet to be decided, and then the last target on the list. Just exactly how is up for discussion. Only you and I know about this procrastination, ok?"

# Chapter 28

Rossi parked along the street where Aaron Phelps lived. He knew when the match would start and estimated how much time would be needed for Aaron to drive to the ground, get changed, warm up and practice. He knew roughly what this would be from the previous match he'd watched, but wanted to be double sure. He therefore parked thirty minutes ahead of his estimated time of departure. He noted exactly what Aaron was wearing, grey checked jacket, black shirt, and deep blue jeans. He could now relax, having pre-cut the rear toilet window template in the dead of the night before, and repositioning it with alcohol soluble glue. It would only require a quick quiet aerosol spray containing methanol and within a minute he could pull it out with a rubber suction device. The timing was the only factor bothering him as he arrived, noticing Aaron's car at the other end of the car park. He chose ten minutes before the game would pause for lunch. The staff would be less likely to take a comfort break, the players and spectators would be concentrating on what was happening at the wicket, and the point of entry for him was in full shade. Still, he wasn't over confident, it was the first time he'd caused a death in a public place, and in which he'd have to appear to be as distraught as everyone else if a player collapsed on the field. His own attire consisted of a back pack for his picnic lunch and binoculars, the former helping to mask his physical deformation. A totally shaven head replacing his prior flowing locks, and sporting a dark beard he'd been cultivating for several weeks. A pair of reflective technicolour sunspecs completed his wardrobe makeover. Unrecognisable from any photograph he'd ever appeared in.

*

Aaron Phelps knew of some of the deaths of his former classmates, but hadn't even considered that someone like Rossi could be working on a specific list of ten earmarked targets plus Harvey Brewster. He had taken comfort in the deaths he did know about being from 'a bunch of extremists' within the class of 1989. Aaron considered himself to be one of the neutrals, witnessing but never participating in the constant testosterone flaunting contests. In addition, he'd actually thought of himself as one of the neutrals by demonstrating stoicism in the face of verbal abuse. When he'd heard about each victim in turn, part of him felt that justice had finally been served. And of course he was as ignorant as the rest of the public that his former classmate was at the centre of the manhunt. However, Aaron had eventually become unsettled, and began to take the sequence seriously, thinking of how this could affect his family. He didn't want them to be worried by newspaper reports which were increasingly sensationalising the situation.

He wanted to explain the situation to Alison, his wife. But how? He didn't want to overreact, but thought it might be a wise precaution to speak to the police. He'd think about when.

*

Unknown to the police, the filing cabinet they had grabbed was missing one crucial notebook. One which Rossi kept with him at all times. Like all of his activities, the contact data on each target was incredibly thorough, but separate from the dossiers which concentrated more on personalities, habitual movements, and derivation of the order of execution. The contact details centred on the people closest to the intended victims. Addresses, phone numbers, e-mail contacts were logged for as many relatives and close friends as he could garner. This had proved to be difficult at first, but eventually facilitated by emotional pleas from a 'cripple' such as he was, who just needed to re-connect with a few old friends. Inventive sob stories, long lost pals as a result of him living abroad for years, school photos, fabricated pen-pal exchanges, all contributed to compassionate breaking of the rules by council clerks and phone provider staff. The clincher had been the disability empathy. This data was compiled long before the first killing. Had this notebook been in the filing cabinet, the entire investigation may have developed differently, and the last two deaths may have been prevented. More importantly, Kane could well have persuaded Knox and the C.C. that the manhunt would become the initial trigger of a tectonic shift in Rossi's urgency to fulfil his obsession. Reinforcement of this desire was fuelled by recent alteration in prognosis of his life expectation, and undoubtedly lit up the switch to urgent mode. Nevertheless, if neither manhunt episode had occurred, he wouldn't have been tipped off that the police knew who they were looking for. A fine example of chaos theory.

*

It was a glorious day for cricket. No strong breeze to worry the batsmen. The odd cloud drifting by to cool the spectators every few minutes. No patches of scorched grass to play havoc with the ball. Aaron's team were at their home ground, won the toss and elected to put the opposition in to bat first. Just when it seemed as if their rivals were heading for an impressive innings, Aaron was brought on to bowl his first over. The change of pace impacted immediately and two batsmen were dismissed in short order.

The half-baked surveillance plan hatched by Knox and the Chief Constable saw half a dozen undercover police scattered around the ground, and were in remote contact with back up mobile units, out of sight approximately quarter of a mile from the pitch. Kane saw this as unmitigated stupidity, but was told it was no longer a suggestion – it was an order.

The game was fluctuating in terms of which side had the upper hand. Rossi looked at his watch and figured he'd have to set off for a comfort break in fourteen minutes, giving him time to access the team toilet facilities precisely ten minutes prior to the players' lunch break. He wanted to be in and out in only five minutes maximum if possible, but he had to allow for unforeseen circumstances. Now that the plan was in play his nervousness diminished to some degree. Banishing any visualisation of what may follow, the focus was now on the detailed arachnid sequence. Acting normally was paramount, smiling, applauding the players, being friendly with those around him.

"Excuse me, sorry to disturb you. Nature calls and I've probably been overcompensating for the heat with too much water. Hope I don't miss another wicket."

He whistled approval of another wicket falling as he approached the pavilion, scanning for people being where they weren't expected to be. Darting around to the rear had to be achieved without detection even if it meant going back and forth. Fortunately, it only needed one attempt. The pane of glass came out without a sound despite its size, just millimetres smaller than the frame, and he stepped through the aperture with great care. He squeezed the door handle to the home changing room slowly and squinted through the gap before entering. Aaron's clothes were visible to the left. Rossi searched the grey jacket for Aaron's phone and was delighted that it was already in his zipped inside pocket. He didn't need the self-adhesive closure device after all. Dropping the assassin into such a small space even wearing protective gloves was extremely tricky, but he'd rehearsed the task incessantly at his lodge. He froze for one moment when he thought the zip was stuck. A mental reset reminded him that care was more important than speed. He paused, took a deep breath and a much more deliberate teasing motion overcame the stubbornness of the zip's resistance. All of the planning could be rendered futile if he faltered in the transfer of the spider to the open pocket, or the zip malfunctioned again as he was closing the pocket. Beads of sweat were gathering on his brow, yet his resolve remained calm and the assassin was successfully contained, the trap was set. Now he had to get out and re-seal the frosted glass toilet window.

An extended sigh of relief was manifest as he took out his picnic lunch and headed to an unoccupied bench close to the pavilion. He chomped away on a corned beef sandwich as the players trooped off the pitch, gesticulating to each other as to how they could have done better.

Allowing time for the players to cast their eyes over the fayre on offer, Rossi beckoned one of the tea ladies.

"Hello, I'm sorry to trouble you, I'm a friend of Aaron. I've just had a call from his wife, apparently his phone is turned off. She asked if I could possibly pass a message to Aaron. I'm afraid there's been a serious accident outside his house. I promised her I'd try my best to get her message to Aaron and then I'd rush back there to see what had happened, and if I could do anything to help. I don't want to embarrass Aaron in front of his colleagues. I hope my car isn't blocked in the car park. The poor woman is really upset. Could you let him know I'm on my way now? Thank you."

The tea lady dashed back to the pavilion and Rossi strolled back to his seat, apologising to neighbouring fans for disturbing them again. He was looking forward to the match resuming, grabbing an apple from his back pack.

Aaron almost upturned a table as he rushed to the changing room, mentally kicking himself for putting off speaking to the police. In his surging panic to retrieve his phone he didn't stop to ask who this 'friend' was. Grappling with his jacket, thinking he'd left his phone in the left hand pocket, his normally even temper blew a valve, just as he saw the outline of the phone in the jacket lining. Relative control returned. He unzipped the pocket and plunged his hand inside. It wasn't a horrendously painful stabbing feeling, but on withdrawing his hand, the vision of the spider's fangs hanging on to his middle finger caused him to freeze momentarily. Then came a manic scream for help. Several team mates rushed to the changing room, then halted abruptly. Aaron staggered toward the lunch room giddily, while one of the players called for an ambulance. Another player picked up a napkin, crumpled it and pulled the arachnid from Aaron's finger. He dropped it on to the floor and battered it with a plate, which broke and scattered. Nobody could see where the spider was, dead or still alive.

*

Within minutes, all hell broke loose, there were people running around everywhere, shouting and screaming, while marshals were herding the crowd to the exits. The P.A. system finally blared out a message that the match was abandoned. Rossi lingered as long as he could, almost to the point of a marshal taking his name for refusing to leave, then preferring to bundle him toward the nearest exit. An ambulance siren approached and he knew the deed was done. He hadn't anticipated that one little spider could cause such panic among hundreds of spectators at least a thousand times its size.

*

Kane and Alice heard the news on their car radio and its full impact was immediately understood. The evening newspaper had gone to print early with the headline – 'Police outwitted again by Britain's most wanted'. Further into the article there was a worrying claim – 'this ongoing carnage is believed to be at the hands of the main suspect, Alex Rossi – the murders may now stand at seven if Aaron Phelps dies – how could the latest attempted killing happen in such a public place with over two hundred people in attendance'?

"I'll ultimately have to take responsibility for this, Alice, even though it would appear that Rossi had this all set up some time ago. Knox and the C.C. will see to that."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, guv. The other angle is that it was the stupid manhunt which bumped Rossi into top gear."

"We know that, but trying to deny we could have prevented this will only make things worse. It will definitely give the media their perfect scapegoat."

"Maybe. But look, we're nearly back to the station, so maybe you should get out and use the rear fire escape while I drive into the car park. There'll be a pack of hounds there already. Knox can deal with it for now."

Her advice did give Kane the chance to slip into the building unnoticed. He glanced out of the window and counted around forty journalists and cameramen. He headed for Knox's office. When he reached the door, his secretary wagged her finger.

"He's with the Chief Constable. I think you should wait. I'll let him know you're back."

"No, don't bother him. I'll be in my usual place whenever he wants to see me. Does he know about the mad dog journalists in the car park?"

"Yes, I believe they are discussing that right now."

# Chapter 29

The call came three quarters of an hour later. Kane entered Knox's office and didn't wait to be invited to sit. He noted the rivers of sweat on their faces. They must have been blissfully unaware of the rising humidity.

"It's like an oven in here," joked Kane, "should I ask your secretary to switch on the air conditioning?"

"Very droll, Inspector." Replied Knox.

"Sorry, but seriously, can I turn the air-con up?"

The Chief Constable agreed, and opened the pertinent conversation. "I think we must all accept that we have a potential shit-storm on our hands. In such situations we have to sort the bad from the unacceptable. As I see it we have been oscillating between two polar opposites in terms of strategy. With the wisdom of hindsight, we were lulled into the manhunt by the lure of a quick resolution of this wretched case. A blitz which would demonstrate how we can mobilise and eliminate danger with unerring precision. What we delivered was an untargeted, very costly resource which failed in its primary task but which also adversely affected many other ongoing initiatives."

Kane shook his head while trying to force his way into the discussion. "Sir, I realise we do have to think about damage limitation, and I pleaded with you and Superintendent Knox on several occasions to forget the manhunt. However, whatever else we discuss now, the elephant in the room is that we can't rule out the possibility that information about our operation was leaked to the press, the headlines tell us that. Someone must have known that Aaron Phelps was going to be at that cricket ground, and yet Rossi managed to make us look like utter amateurs. Either he knows our every move, and wasn't concerned about it, or he didn't know and was just lucky. I don't buy into him simply being lucky, and neither will the media when they dig deep enough. Look, I did try to oppose the mass search option until I was blue in the face, but that in itself didn't precipitate this flawlessly conceived attempted murder in a public arena. It had to have been scheduled for that particular Saturday well before it was executed. Rossi doesn't leave things to chance. We need to find out if there was a leak, not least because if I'd been allowed to speak with Aaron Phelps exactly _when_ I made that request, he wouldn't even have been at the cricket ground. If I'm correct, the press may well have that information already. I've prepared my written resignation. I believe it's the only way to mitigate an unfair savaging of the entire force."

The others glanced at one another, then the Chief Constable resumed his monologue.

"Not so quick, DCI Kane. That would be yet another knee-jerk reaction. Responsibility for the entire situation rests with myself. Changes need to be made, merely picking over the bones won't do. Superintendent Knox and I are in agreement about the next steps, and in which order they will take place. We agree with your concern that we have to answer further allegations of the press before they are made, and certainly with some humility. However, it has to be underpinned by a new strategy and resolve to bring this murderer to book. So, Knox will step down and I will take personal responsibility as from today. Your resignation is premature and we can discuss that at some other time. I've been on the blower to the Met and asked for their assistance to beef up your team. How that is done will be openly thrashed out. I'm waiting to hear who is recommended and whether they are available immediately. You will 'officially' report to that person until this case is finally put to bed. Superintendent Knox will clear his desk today and attend the press conference with me before he departs. Are we clear?"

Kane was totally wrong-footed by this and held up his hand. "I'd like to hear from the Superintendent directly, sir. We haven't always seen eye-to-eye on everything, but I am the SIO responsible for the investigation and this doesn't sit right with me."

Knox intervened. "Inspector, we've always had different views on the chain of command. Your cynical attitude to the hierarchy has some justification, but those of us who've accepted the perks knew of the precarious positions we took on. This is an exemplary situation. You mustn't be confused by my rationale for the two strategies I was happy to endorse recently, betting on one or the other being successful. I have no complaints, I was paid to decide, but I chose to vacillate. Such is life. You will see it differently when Rossi is banged up inside."

*

Alice was stunned when she heard the news and apprehensive about what was ahead. "Do we know who this new face is that's coming from the Met?"

"No. There'll be a press conference soon and it'll probably be announced then. Keep all of this to yourself until then. It's bound to be somebody with a glittering reputation."

"Sure. I get the feeling it won't make any difference. We're only four more deaths away from Rossi going into retirement himself if Aaron doesn't make it."

"Yeah, and the Aaron Phelps business will only give him more confidence. Alice, I know we can all see in hindsight what we could have done better, yet there was an opportunity missed when we saw the charred body of Paul Fairclough labelled by Rossi as Aaron Phelps. He was obviously rattled, trying to put us off the scent and that should have spurred us on to contacting Callum Young. We could possibly have protected him and Aaron right then. I tried to convince Knox, but I just didn't try hard enough."

"True. So, are you going to speak with Laura Francis again?"

"I hadn't planned to, why?"

"Well, until we meet this Met character she seems to get inside Rossi's head better than any of us. We've got nothing to lose."

"I'll think about it, but let's get the press conference out of the way first. I'm expecting a mauling, and to be honest we can't complain this time."

*

Aaron Phelps' life was hanging by a thread. His wife was at his bedside, holding his hand. She was asked to leave while several nurses, doctors and laboratory staff were hooking up machines, taking blood samples and delivering sedative to the patient. They were remarkably well briefed and weren't flustered by Aaron's violent body twitching as the intravenous sedative gradually calmed the spasms. The official unspoken opinion was downbeat regarding his survival odds. Critical time had been lost while the paramedics were assessing his condition before being told he'd been bitten multiple times by a large spider. In addition they'd had to move him outside on to the grass in case the spider hadn't been reliably confirmed as dead. Nobody knew for certain that there was only one spider in the changing room.

Weaver was at the hospital and asked Aaron's wife how he was. "Who are you? A journalist?"

"No, I'm DC Weaver, my boss was planning to speak to Aaron..."

"Can you just go away, please? He wouldn't be here if you'd actually done what you had in mind. After he left for the cricket match, a newspaper man knocked on the door and mentioned something about the police asking the family to be moved to a safe house. You could have stopped him playing, and just have an officer at our house. The cricket match wasn't important when his life was at stake and your bosses must have known that. Leave me alone."

Weaver called Kane immediately. "Sir, Aaron Phelps' wife has just told me a journalist turned up at their house asking about the family being taken to a safe house. Phelps had already left. How could some newspaper hack have known about that?"

"Jesus, I've been telling Knox and the Chief Constable that just now. How did she know this journalist was who he said he was?"

"I didn't get a chance to ask. She won't talk to the police again. Surely if her husband hadn't told her, he didn't know either."

"Yeah. I'll have to think about that. We definitely have an internal leak. Stay there for now."

*

The press conference eventually got underway once the most vociferous journalists ran out of insults. The Chief Constable made no effort to calm the storm, merely suggesting that he wasn't in a hurry. "It's your bosses who have to meet their print deadlines."

The heckling petered out and he began in earnest.

"First I want to dispense with excuses from the force. We made mistakes, but honest mistakes. We are dealing with a dedicated, slippery, twisted individual. Our message today is that we will most definitely reinforce our efforts to ensure his capture. To that end I will now lead this investigation. We will introduce new blood and new ways of utilising information. We will also conduct regular press conferences as required. I do believe the media can help by the way they report the information which can be made available. The inhabitants of this region deserve better from both bodies – the police and those who report on what they achieve or fail to achieve. I can announce today that we will avail of robust support from the Met, both in personnel and methodology. If you can exercise patience by leaving your questions until two days from now, I will have a full team at your disposal to discuss every issue you wish to raise. If you can accept this promise, I'd like to get to work on a new approach right now."

He allowed the murmuring to build up and subside sufficiently to offer his thanks, and walked out of the room. He was gambling. He'd created expectancy which at present he had no idea how to meet. Kane anticipated a real wind of change. He didn't have long to wait.

"Detective Inspector Kane, your extra resource is on his way by train. We'll brief him fully this evening. You didn't have alternative arrangements, did you?"

"Uh...no...that's very reassuring, sir. What isn't so reassuring is that someone visited the Phelps' house after he left for his cricket match and asked his wife what the police were doing about moving them to a safe house. This person said he was a journalist. If he was genuine he could have been at your press conference. If he was bogus, he could be anybody. Can I leave you to mull that over, sir?"

*

Weaver was still reeling from the acerbic fall to earth he endured from the wife of Aaron Phelps. He was waiting patiently in the corridor in the remote possibility Aaron would regain consciousness. When the doctor called his wife to the intensive care unit, his anticipation ratcheted up a notch. He stood up, binned the dregs in his cardboard coffee cup, and straightened his tie. A nurse passed him on her way to the unit, he looked at her enquiringly. She shook her head. He realised she meant he couldn't follow her. The subsequent emergence of Aaron's sobbing wife suggested it was bad news. He was told some ten minutes later that Aaron had succumbed to the venom. There was just too much in his bloodstream, even with the intervention of antidote.

Weaver trudged back to his car before ringing Alice.

"Sorry to report the passing of Aaron Phelps, victim number seven. Apparently he put up a hell of a fight but even if the antidote had been available to the paramedics he might not have pulled through."

"Is there no end to this nightmare? Are you on your way back now?"

"Just leaving the hospital car park. Why?"

"I have a whole lot of stuff to pass on to you. Best to get it out of the way now. Things have moved on at pace. I don't want to speak about it over the phone."

"Why do I get the feeling it's ominous in some way?"

"It's not simply ominous, it's a full blown shaking of the tree. As soon as you get here we'll go to the pub. Not with Kane, just the two of us."

"Can't say I'm surprised. It was a mistake to let Laura Francis leave. Her insight was invaluable. It was as if I was talking to Rossi himself, not a profiler. She posed more questions than giving answers, but they covered stuff we bypassed. Is she coming back?"

"Are you deaf? I said I'm not talking about it on the airwaves. Change of plan. Just get your arse straight to the pub and get the first round in. Mine's a very large glass of Sauvignon Blanc and a slice of pizza. I've had bugger all to eat since breakfast time."

"Ok. I'm also in need of a stiff drink. Mrs Phelps gave me a real piece of her mind about our incompetence."

# Chapter 30

Alex Rossi's head was in overdrive. Staring at the remaining names on the list he was contemplating a change of order. His judgement was being influenced by the news headlines, describing the death of Aaron Phelps as a shameful dereliction of duty by the police,

The intensity of planning required for another four deaths was weighing heavily on his physical capability, yet his mental stamina urged him to ramp up the kill rate. That would demand a novel shift in the cause of death in addition to a little juggling of the expected order.

The logistics of such a bold revision presented a huge challenge in itself. The one alteration he wanted to avoid was unfortunately key in his new vision. Alistair Jenkins had always been imagined as the crescendo which would become the finale to his symphony of retribution. In his mind, fulfilling this obligation was equivalent to prising the ultimate verdict from those who'd sat in judgement in their ivory towers of perceived wisdom. Jenkins was a distant relative of a retired barrister who just happened to be the main reason the rapes and induced suicide of Fatima were deemed as not proven. Even as a schoolboy Alistair Jenkins held sway over both sexes in his class and beyond. When he was fifteen he could have passed for twenty-one. Always able to gain entry to adult movies because of his physical build and strong, stubble covered chin. Boys looked up to him because of his sporting prowess and girls unfortunately found him sexually attractive. He was undoubtedly the example others followed with regard to the obscenities in the class of 1989. However, unlike many peers from that year group, he was never able to carve out a lucrative career in later life. His influence over others diminished rapidly after leaving school and he'd gradually come under the spell of alcohol. That was nowhere near enough induced misery for Rossi, he wanted him to suffer appropriate judgement right now.

*

Neither Kane nor Alice had ever heard of Clive Vernon. The Chief Constable wasted no time in correcting that, calling Kane to his office. Rushing through the pleasantries, he wanted input from Vernon first.

"I take it you've had time to scan the short version of the case files?"

"Yes, I spent a couple of hours highlighting parts of it at my hotel last night."

"Good. First impressions?"

Vernon was keen to allay concerns which Kane might have about his arrival. "Well, I'd rather do this in another way, sir. Whatever I can glean from written reports is no substitute for interactive discussion. The files give me a negative in photographic terms, and I want that developed to a full colour picture, nuances as well as facts. I have to get to know this serial killer and we don't have a lot of time for that to happen. I'd appreciate DCI Kane running through the details of each killing in the sequence they occurred."

The Chief Constable looked disappointed but agreed. This was quite a challenge for Kane, so he tried to concentrate on facts, evidence, and consequent changes in M.O. Vernon made notes sporadically rather than frequently. After almost fifty minutes Kane reached the latest death of Aaron Phelps.

Vernon spoke at last. "And this is when you considered contacting the target for the first time?"

"Not for the first time. It was discussed several times, but never actioned. However, I need to point out an ironic connection between what are really totally separate events. We've had two attempts at regional manhunts. The first, in my opinion, perhaps had some influence on Rossi, but the second coincided with me wanting to speak to the victim. I've thought about this constantly and I refuse to believe our perpetrator had already figured out we were debating if and when we might contact Aaron Phelps. Knowing what we did about Rossi, I just couldn't imagine him going ahead with his plan at some cricket ground unless he'd set that date in stone for some reason. He must have earmarked that Saturday some time ago and felt it couldn't be changed."

"Right, well that would explain something that was bothering me about it being reported as a coincidence. Can we move on from what has already happened, to the next steps?"

The Chief Constable had been patiently waiting to hear those words and asked, "So, what do you want us to focus on now?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that. It's very boring to keep on raking over the same details, but absolutely necessary. Maybe it would be better if DCI Kane and his team can spend the next few hours answering questions I'd still like answers to. I'm sure we can draw up a tentative strategy later today."

The proposal was accepted and Kane found it amusing that the Chief Constable hadn't responded to being portrayed as the one sitting on his hands over contacting Phelps.

*

Alex Rossi's main concern over Alistair Jenkins was his alcoholism. In a seriously inebriated state, he'd be much harder to move about than previous targets. Ergo, he had to confront him when he'd not been drinking in the preceding hours. He wasn't currently employed, definitely claiming benefits, and supposedly a regular attendee of Alcoholics Anonymous. Despite exploring various options he plumped for the complex task of taking two targets down at the same time. Neville Bright was originally scheduled as the penultimate victim. A sleazy sycophantic opportunist, more than willing to switch loyalties for a price. Recent checks on his activities weren't available except through streetwise criminals of similar ilk. That's how Rossi would have to arrange contact, a juicy lure with an appropriately tempting payoff. Time was of the essence so he'd have to skip past intermediaries, and this would normally be tricky. He knew a bouncer who was working at one of the more fashionable nightclubs in town. He'd know most of the faces which came through the doors. Tonight around ten o'clock would be convenient.

It had occurred to him that either or both of these targets could have become concerned that the sequence of killings had by now underlined they were all ex-pupils of Blackford Grammar. However, serendipity was his ally in this instance. Both men were in their own ways one dimensional thinkers with life-controlling problems. Jenkins with alcohol, and Bright maintaining his pimpernel persona in the underworld. Fortune would favour the brave.

*

Clive Vernon asked many questions, most of which the team said didn't apply to the case. Finally, he had his short list. The others waited with bated breath.

"So, we have a couple of behavioural aberrations with your man. I still can't feel how much of this is reactive versus proactive. Some appear to be consequences of your progress or lack of it. Serial killers normally want control while also needing to be in the headlines. The background motive for the entire order of execution dominates everything else. Let me run through what you've told me and see where any of you disagree. The first victim was the only one with no ID. The second and third were also placed where they'd be easily found, but did have ID. The fourth was the first to be mutilated by the perpetrator, having had his genitals removed and had a message attached. The fifth victim had been incinerated, that is a big departure, and had false ID, a very significant change. The sixth was the end of the so-called victim and helper theory. And finally, the most recent was conducted live in a public place. When adding in the shrinking interval between the killings, I'm inclined to believe there are competing impulses in Rossi's mind, one of which he has no control over and the other is the means to regain control. Does that make sense?"

This was a slightly different slant on the analysis of Laura Francis, possibly due to the detail involved with the last two murders. Kane, Alice and Weaver were keen to hear what conclusions Clive Vernon would throw at them. Particularly his assertion that there could be an issue over which Rossi had no control, especially since the killing of Aaron Phelps seemed to indicate the opposite. When this was put to Vernon his reply surprised them.

"It's an opinion, nothing more. It is based upon the principle of cause and effect, yet allows for the dominant motive to prevail, the two instances you seem concerned about are most definitely not mutually exclusive. Just stop and think for a moment about the performance of the police and what factors were considered prior to authorising, then decommissioning, and reintroducing the manhunt. DCI Kane, I refer to your analysis regarding the timing of your decision to speak with Aaron Phelps, and I concur that it probably had no influence over Rossi's chosen time to strike. Even though, as you said, it will undoubtedly be judged to be the one and only cause. Can I put it another way? Rossi's deviations have been intended, then reactive to police action, and now urgently intended, but due to alteration in circumstances known only to himself. Whatever it is, the original motive remains, but the timeline has to become the means of regaining overall control. It is not likely to be dependent on further shifts of police strategy, other than us miraculously arresting him. What does this mean? This case is unique and so my intuition tells me he will strike again very soon. Can one of us assemble all of the information we have on the remaining four names on the list? The rest of us need to speak with all of them as soon as possible. Your much criticised plea for intervention with Aaron Phelps didn't force Rossi's hand. It was just Murphy's Law, he was going ahead at all costs. I'm not inclined to believe that a leak of your operational strategy would have caused him to alter course. As we're agreed that Aaron Phelps' demise was meticulously planned well in advance, and Rossi has this unknown element which is causing his loss of control, he couldn't pull the plug. I fear this confirms he'll strike again very soon. Can we begin contacting the remaining four right now? "

*

"Hey, Sean. It's been a while. How's business?"

"Pretty slow right now. Still that means less arse-heads to deal with. Are you coming in?"

"Not tonight. Actually, I wanted to ask if you could recommend a 'no questions' low-life? I need a runner to connect me with a reliable fixer."

"Like I said, it's all quiet. There are plenty of people looking for work."

Sean scribbled the name of an acquaintance, and where to find him. "Talk with Harry, he's kosher. He's in the Miner's Arms every night apparently."

"Thanks, mate. I owe you one."

*

Rossi entered the Miner's Arms, bought a lager and asked the barman about Harry.

"Harry who?"

"Just Harry. My friend Sean is a bouncer in town and said I'd find Harry here. Didn't give me a second name, said that is the way things are done."

"You mean Sean Docherty?"

"Yep."

"Harry isn't here yet. Take a seat and when he comes in I'll give him the wink. If he's interested you'll know. If he isn't you won't know. Got it?"

"Sure."

*

The next name on the list wasn't receptive to discussing the imminent danger described by DCI Kane. Raymond Crawford had never married, preferring to reap a new harvest every season. He lived in a bachelor pad which was within comfortable walking distance of city centre social venues. "I don't like being seen with the filth. Apart from that you come here with some vague patter that I might be in some kind of danger. From what? From somebody whose name you won't give me. Look I don't have many acquaintances and I like it that way. So, if you don't mind I'll pass on anything else you have to say. Goodnight."

He closed the door and turned up his music again. Kane turned to Weaver, "This is one of the four you had on your short list when you spoke with Eleanor Wright and Henry Sanderson isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. He worked on an oil rig, maybe still does. Why do you ask?"

"Just thinking it fits with his attitude. So where does the next on the list live?"

"Raven Hill, sir. It's about fifteen minutes away."

"I know how far it is. What's the address?"

"Carlton Avenue. I know it. Used to have a girlfriend who lived there."

"Great, DC Weaver, but we don't need your life story, just Neal Hetherington's will do. Remind me, is that the one who works for an insurance company and breeds dogs?"

"No, he has a small market garden business. Organic stuff, apparently thriving. Must be plenty of tree huggers out there. Vegetarians, vegans, snobby pseudo rich punters. Overpriced merchandise for the image conscious."

"Thanks for that. I wasn't serious when I asked for his life story. We could do with that kind of detail on Alex Rossi."

Clive Vernon appreciated the humour. He felt comfortable that he'd found receptive ears in Kane's team. He'd been slightly apprehensive when told he was being temporarily seconded to the northeast, never having worked beyond the midlands.

The proprietor was in the process of impressing a customer. He sensed Kane's group weren't members of the green wellington brigade. "I'll be with you in a moment."

# Chapter 31

Rossi was getting jumpy. He swallowed the dregs of his lager and got up to leave. There had been a lot of comings and goings but apparently no Harry. As he walked to the door, a hand tapped his shoulder.

"I hear you wanted to speak to somebody. What's the gig?"

"Oh, right. Nothing special, a pickup and delivery."

"Of what?"

"Pure."

"How much?"

"Six figures."

"Cash?"

"No, maybe this was a mistake. Three percent of the haul."

"Why do you need help?"

"My own wing man is on holiday. These people don't do long standing arrangements because of loose tongues. I got the call this morning. It's on for tomorrow."

"So, what exactly do you need?"

"A reliable one-off punter to ride shotgun. Surely you must know it's a bad idea to be alone during such transactions. Look, I want assistance with a bit of heavy lifting from someone who has experience with protective weapons. It has to be somebody we can both trust to keep their mouth zipped."

"It's short notice. Give me a number to reach you. What's your name?"

"Are you kidding? You really don't want to know my name and I need you to get somebody here in the next hour. If you can't just say so, and I'll move on. I heard Sean's mate mention a Neville Bright. Is he known to you?"

"Maybe, but not for three percent."

"So, you're more of a hustler than a fixer. I can't go more than five for half an hour's work."

"Get yourself another beer. I'll be back in an hour."

*

Neal Hetherington didn't take what Kane said very seriously.

"Is this some crank who has issues with people like us trying to help the nation's health crisis? Naturally produced foods offer a sensible way to avoid obesity and diabetes."

"Yeah, yeah," replied Kane, "we didn't come here for a lecture on diet. We are aware of a specific threat to your person, not your business. It's a precaution that we're offering your family while we neutralise the threat, that's all. There are other families we need to speak with and we need to move quickly on this. At least discuss this with your family and get back to us. Can you do that?"

"Well, my wife also works here. I'll page her to come to the office, where there'd be no eavesdropping. I don't want this kind of stuff affecting the business."

Hetherington's wife was more responsive to the police request. "Neal, we shouldn't dismiss this too lightly. Remember that lunatic who shot his neighbour, after the planning authority approved an extension of the man's property, just because he didn't like it or was insanely jealous? There are some weirdos out there. We should take this seriously until we're sure it's been sorted out, especially as the Inspector thinks it will only take a few days."

Hetherington folded his objections and said they would put an emergency closure notice on the main entrance when they closed that evening.

*

Rossi was garbed in the same way which worked so well at the cricket match. The beard being a little thicker was the only difference. Harry introduced Neville Bright, who looked Rossi up and down.

"Do we know each other?"

"I hope not, because if we do, I've just wasted our time. I've certainly never met you before. Look, perhaps we should pull the plug. Even vague recall of names, faces, or registration numbers of vehicles can spell trouble ahead."

"Forget it," insisted Bright, trying to see through Rossi's reflective shades, "let's hear about the job."

"Fine, so before we get down to details, you do have weapons experience?"

"Yeah, a miniature hand gun, fits nicely into my pocket."

Rossi suggested they went outdoors to fill in the precise details. He painted in all he thought they needed to know and deflected questions about everything else. It was on the verge of collapse, so he turned to walk away, when Bright called him back. "You say we only need half an hour to get to the drop, pick up, and deliver. Is that rock solid?"

"Of course, otherwise I wouldn't be considering doing the business either."

The three of them shook hands and Rossi said he would pick up Bright at a neutral place of his choosing.

"Swing bridge, ten sharp?"

Rossi nodded affirmation to both of them and sped off on his motorbike.

*

Kane checked out how Vernon and the rest of his team felt about the reaction of Neal and Barbara Hetherington. They all gave a thumbs up, so he asked Clive Vernon to accompany him to speak with the Chief Constable about organising a safe house.

The boss squirmed and asked if they shouldn't wait a little longer in view of the scathing press headlines following the cricket match. Vernon disagreed.

"That was unfortunate, but I concur with DCI Kane that even if the killer thought Aaron had been contacted by the police he may not have backed off. If we'd managed to get Aaron Phelps away to a safe house even a day earlier, he'd still be alive now. What we're suggesting still carries a risk but probably not to the Hetherington family, maybe the one before them on the list, Raymond Crawford. But we've already had his refusal, so we now have to contact the last two on the list."

It was reluctantly approved and Kane sent Weaver to pick Neal and Barbara up. A short meeting at the station sufficed to walk them through what would happen.

"No one else must know where you are. Not me, not my boss, not your extended family. Only the person who will drive you to the safe house will know of the location. This is essential and also allows us to up our effort to neutralise the threat as soon as we can. Are you ok with that?"

Neal asked about phone calls.

Vernon shook his head. "Not a good idea. Definitely no mobiles. There will be an officer with you at the house to explain our advice in more detail, but only she should make and answer calls. She's trained to do that in such a way to prevent unintended or accidental disclosures. We will review the progress we're making every day."

They left, wondering what this was all about if it wasn't an attack on their business.

*

Neville Bright couldn't believe his eyes. Rossi pulled into a side road and waved him over.

"What the hell are you doing with a trailer hitched up?"

"Fall back contingency. It's horse manure, to bury the stash just in case we have an accident or the cops stop me. They won't want to dig into the feed for my leeks. It stinks like hell. I thought you were clued up. Show me your hand gun and hop on the back."

Rossi drove carefully to the A.A. meeting hall.

"What is this place?" asked Bright.

"Jesus, you're like a bloody parrot. Look, I do things my way. We have to pay for the goods by barter not banknotes. The supplier wants us to deliver a particular person to them. I told Harry that it was a pick-up and delivery job. Do you want out? Just say so now or button up. This guy is built like a brick shithouse but he's an alcoholic. We just follow him when he comes out, stay close behind him until we are near to the bike, he always goes that way. I'll take care of him with an injection. He'll go down like a bag of cement in under five seconds. This isn't as dilute as operation theatre anaesthetic. It's rocket grade. If a crowd gathers, he's just our pal and we need to get him to hospital because he's had these blackouts before due to the alcohol. You stay with him until I get the tarpaulin off the horseshit and the bike started up. I drape the tarpaulin around the bike while you lift him into the trailer. I pull the tarp back over the trailer and we head for our meeting with the supplier. Any nosey bastards will evaporate if they see me waving your hand gun. Give it to me now. Don't shit yourself, the plates are fake and we make a stop at an abandoned warehouse half a mile away. I un-hitch the bike and lock it on to my car, put matching plates on the trailer and we ride out to the countryside. You look like a ghost. No more questions?"

"Err... just a..."

"Great, if you feel panic coming on just smile. I've done this before."

"Who is this guy you're going to deliver?"

"There you go again. He's a bargain chip, but only if we get him to the trade alive. You really don't want to know. You still have time to chicken out, but only before I inject him. Then it's a one way street. Harry told me you were reliable."

"Yeah, I'm cool with it. Just checking you had it all thought out."

"That's the spirit. You'll be amazed how easy it is to fool the gloating public."

*

Alistair Jenkins was first to exit the A.A. meeting and followed his usual route, which was indelibly etched into Rossi's brain. He turned into an untidy run down side-street, approached an overhead bridge which cast a dark elongated shadow. There was no sign yet of interfering busybodies.

"Get ready to babysit this guy. I have the syringe loaded."

"Where's my weapon?"

"I still have it in my pocket with the safety catch in place. We won't need it. Here we go."

Rossi walked briskly and jabbed the needle into the back of Jenkins' shoulder. He yelped, turned and reacted as if he was being mugged, throwing a clenched fist at Rossi, who anticipated it and stepped back. Bright was alarmed at the size of this man and began to wish he'd turned the job down. Alistair Jenkins began to stagger, slurred a few profanities and crumpled on to the paved path.

Rossi sprinted back to the bike, kick started it and blasted all of ten yards around the corner leading to the bridge. There was one stranger making his way toward Bright and Jenkins. When Rossi hopped off the bike and beckoned him forward brandishing the gun, the man did a volte face and ran back the way he'd come. They didn't need the tarpaulin to hide Jenkins and both of the assailants lifted his limp frame into the trailer.

"Tie down the Tarp over the guy and we can piss off," shouted Rossi, "we'll get to the warehouse nice and early."

Bright did what he was told and straddled the passenger seat, then tapped Rossi's shoulder to say it was done. The warehouse was a former Abattoir, now surrounded by modern precinct shops which had objected to such a slaughter house negatively affecting footfall to the retail trade. Rossi swung the bike through a partially open sliding door and killed the engine.

*

"Shit, I told that cretin to have the car here early," shouted Rossi, "right, let's get this punter out of the horseshit. We don't want him to die of suffocation, he's our pay check, and as I said, they need him alive."

Alistair Jenkins felt much heavier than when they lifted him into the trailer. They struggled but eventually managed to sit him on a low ledge.

"You hold him while I put these handcuffs on him. There's some rope in the trailer, get it and tie his feet together. We must restrict his movements or he'll become a real problem when the anaesthetic wears off."

"I thought you had everything under control."

"The car should be here any minute. Just do as I say as a precaution."

Ten minutes passed before Rossi took off his sunspecs.

He approached Bright. "So you thought you knew me?"

In a flash he thrust the needle of the syringe into Bright's neck and delivered him to wonderland. He then busied himself by retrieving a couple of old metal chairs from another room and spent a good twenty minutes preparing both men to face their judgement. They were well and truly clamped in place by climbing cables wrapped around their bodies. They looked like jet pilots strapped to ejection seats, waiting for the button to be pressed.

Jenkins was first to emerge from his induced inactivity and was utterly bewildered. He still couldn't muster a coherent sentence while staring at Bright. Rossi was observing through a hatch to the side of the anticipated face-off between two former classmates, who patently hadn't recognised each other. Ten years had re-sculptured two vastly different individuals. Rossi was patient now that the night sky was upon them. He wanted them to become more confused before switching on his battery rig with targeted light beams, crossing each other to illuminate both men. Then he would make an entrance.

# Chapter 32

Rossi began to retrieve what was really hidden underneath the horse manure. A plastic bag containing a couple of bulldog clips, a large roll of extra strong gaffer tape, a chisel, a portable metal detector, two cylindrical containers, a pair of pliers, and two vials of antidote.

While waiting for Bright to fully emerge from the sedation, Rossi pointed Jenkins' gaze to the slimy little rodent sitting opposite. "Just keep looking at him, you never liked being told what you could and could not do, but this is different. You don't get to choose whether or not you die. He will only influence how and when you die."

Bright was beginning to murmur undecipherable mutterings. Rossi approached him and suggested he should calm down. "In a few minutes all will be revealed. You do understand there isn't going to be a trade, don't you?"

The glazed, red-rimmed eyes of Bright betrayed a massive surge of panic. Suddenly the lights came on, temporarily blinding both men. Their eyes were now glued upon each other. Jenkins was first to respond.

"Is it Brighty? Neville?"

"Yeah, so what?"

Jenkins turned to Rossi, who'd shaved in the last few minutes. He took off his sunshades as he intervened, then responded to Bright.

"So what? No need to be so abrupt."

Bright began to wrestle with his bonds but there was no way he could make any impact. "I knew I'd seen you somewhere before. At school back in the day. Rossi, Alan Rossi. What the hell... let me out of here, I'll do anything you want, anything."

"It's Alex, not Alan. Not a very good start. It's not about what you can do, pity it can't be about what you could undo. Look carefully at him, you do know him. He has put on a hell of a lot of weight, then the smoking and alcohol have taken their toll, but you'll get there. You both have to die shortly. The only undecided element is who will be first. That will depend on my judgement and mine alone. But one word of advice, being second to die will be the worst possible choice, because that person will be able to see exactly how bad it was for the first person. So, Mr Bright, you have five minutes to recognise the person opposite. Of course he could tell you, but that would increase the risk of his own death being even more horrendous. Think about it chaps, and try to understand what it's like to have your body violated when you can't do anything whatsoever to stop it."

*

Kane was reluctantly making a second attempt to contact Raymond Crawford. He was still working on the assumption that Rossi had returned to the order designated by the list. With Neal Hetherington safe for now, Crawford's alert level had consequently increased. He was never at home when they called and wasn't answering at his landline number. Alice recommended that they should move on to Neville Bright.

Weaver agreed but mentioned he'd found it extremely difficult to pin the man down. Every check he made either ran into falsified data or 'last known' categories from five years ago. "I did get a response from one of his ex-neighbours, a cagey response, but consistent with the brick walls I kept encountering. He nervously said Bright was a known criminal, a petty criminal. I double checked our database and found nothing yet again, he'd not even been charged with anything. If we're serious about protecting him it might be best to begin with any of our own people who have informants in the underworld."

Vernon gave a chilling reminder that they didn't have the luxury of time and suggested coming back to Bright later. "The last man on the list should take priority now. What do you have on him, DC Weaver?"

"Alistair Jenkins. Yes quite a bit. Married but quickly divorced. He's had more jobs than he is years old. Every one of his employers said he has a drink problem and had to fire him. Apparently he has a real nasty temper. He is registered with Alcoholics Anonymous, but they don't like speaking with the police. Still might be worth a try."

Alice and Weaver departed to check it out.

*

Neville Bright wasn't living up to his name and in an angry shouting match, Jenkins blurted out his own name.

"Alistair Jenkins you fucking cretin. You might have changed less than I have in appearance but you were always an arsehole."

Rossi smiled and intervened. "I'm really finding it difficult to decide which of you deserves to die quickly, so I think we should begin a process which will decide for me. You see, I assumed that I would favour you for a quick but painful death, Neville, but you've really disappointed me. In fact both of you may have forgotten some of the bad things you did at school, and believe me, that makes me very annoyed."

Rossi whistled the tune which accompanied the lyrics of ten green bottles. He picked up the metal detector.

"Which leg was it again, Alistair?"

"What?"

"The metal plate you had inserted to enable you to walk again. It would be better if you told me, but if you won't I'll just find out myself."

"Why do you want to know that?"

"Ah well, I'm sure your limp can be a bit of a burden for you. I know this because you always addressed me at school as the 'crippled dwarf'. If I remove your plate you'll be able to experience exactly what it feels like to be a cripple."

The protests began from both Jenkins and Bright.

"No use shouting, fellas. Nobody comes near this place anymore. Why are you complaining Neville?"

"You aren't a bloody surgeon and you said you're going to kill him anyway. Just do it. I don't want to see you remove the bloody plate."

"Most chivalrous of you, Neville. Or bloody selfish right to the very end. I think I can make my decision on that basis. You shall depart first, Alistair. I really was hoping it would be Neville. Just shows how some people never change."

Rossi sorted through his pile of equipment and grasped the chisel. Jenkins closed his eyes and felt like throwing up. "Now then, Alistair, this is your last chance to tell me which leg has the plate. I do remember it is just below your knee. If I have to scan with my metal detector I'll pretend to misinterpret the result and cut open the other knee first, then I'll have to attend to the one which does have the plate."

"Ok, ok, ok, it's in my right leg."

"Good. So, now it's your turn to have one last chance, Neville. If you hadn't been so squeamish about taking the plate out of Alistair's leg I would have allowed you to depart first. Now you leave me with a dilemma. Are you willing to take the plate out yourself? After all you convinced me that I'm not a surgeon. You have ten seconds to decide, otherwise I have to prepare your demise now."

Both men were shaking their heads and quivering with fear as Rossi reached a count of eight.

"I'll do it, I will. I'll do it. Sorry, Jenkins, I've got to do as he says." Bright was clinging on to hope that this weirdo would actually let him go if he did what was asked of him.

"Well, there we are, Alistair," said Rossi, "he was never capable of grasping the mantle of courage. Taking care of number one, that's all he cares about. But don't worry, this changes everything."

Before releasing Bright from his bonds, Rossi placed a bulldog clip on Jenkins' nose so that he could only breathe through his mouth. Then he wound gaffer tape around his mouth, and removed the clip. It was merely a demonstration that he could force them to open their mouth against their will. For this surgical removal he wanted Jenkins' mouth taped but open, so that he needed to breathe entirely through his nose, making it impossible to scream _and_ breathe at the same time. The latter was essential, the former only a perceived means of coping with the pain.

Rossi left the room to collect a tool which had been missed by the company which cleared out the abattoir prior to closure. A long handled lock cutter. In tandem with the chisel the operation could now proceed. Rossi grudgingly admired Jenkins' acceptance of his fate, while he was busy taping Bright's mouth at gunpoint. In stark contrast to Jenkins, Bright was crying profusely, and the tears were mingling with cold sweat.

"I'm ready to release you to carry out my instructions. One false move and I'll blow your head off. Your own gun will be resting on the back of your head while you're marking out the two snip points with this chisel."

There was a muffled protest which was ignored.

"Ok, listen very attentively. I've just scribed the outline of the plate with a marker pen. Both snip points have to be in bone tissue, not metal You need to use the chisel to pare back the flesh and expose all of the metal otherwise you won't be able to snip the bone cleanly above and below it."

Bright immediately suffered a reflex vomiting urge, which couldn't be carried through because of the tape covering his mouth. Rossi poked the back of his head with the gun. "Just swallow what you have to. I haven't got all night."

The agony displayed on Jenkins face was difficult to witness, even for Rossi himself. Fortunately he passed out from the shock. The patch of tissue was still dangling from the lower snip area. Bright was told to chisel it off and get the long handled lock cutters. He was still convulsing and swallowing vomit alternately while breathing through his nose. Rossi removed the tape from his mouth, as he didn't want to risk the constant vomiting urge to cause a ragged cut. Bright approached the unconscious hulk in front of him.

"You will have mercy on me if I can do this, won't you?"

"That depends on whether or not you make an acceptable job of severing his leg and retrieving the plate. Get on with it."

Two horrendous bone crunching moments later Jenkins eyes opened briefly and closed again. Two tissue snips later his lower right leg was lying horizontally on the concrete floor.

"Well done, Neville. You see, I had faith in you. So, sit down again. I have to put your restraints back in place again until I can spray a vial of blood coagulant on Jenkins' stump. We don't want him to bleed out too quickly."

As soon as that was accomplished, Rossi restored the tape to stop Bright's constant whining. He then placed the second bulldog clip over his nose, and pulled the tape back just enough to allow breathing to continue after expulsion of considerable quantities of bile. Retrieving one of the cylindrical canisters, Rossi began to slowly unscrew the perforated lid. He wanted Bright to finally realise there was no reprieve as he gasped for oxygen. In a well-rehearsed manoeuvre the tape was pulled further back and the lid dispensed with, then the open canister placed over Bright's now gaping mouth. The victim had just enough time to see the advancing Funnel Web spider crawling toward his tongue. The canister was deftly replaced by the tape once more and the bulldog clip removed. The searing pain of repeated bites sent the already deranged victim into rapid involuntary spasms until his body was overwhelmed with neurotoxin and fell still. One last action for Bright was to receive an injection of antidote in the lower spine, but only sufficient to extend the victim's resistance, delaying his death for a brief spell.

He repeated the process he'd just completed with Bright to the unconscious hulk sitting opposite. The message had to be crystal clear to those who would discover the bodies.

Rossi gathered up his equipment and returned them to the shelter of horse manure in the trailer. Staying until both victims passed away, was in his view, absolutely mandatory. A form of temporary symbolic closure in a quest not yet complete. The letter he'd written to DCI Kane was posted through the station letterbox on his way home to the lodge.

The whole execution of this atrocity had taken its toll on his condition. He couldn't give up just yet, but conceded he'd have to devise a very simple means of disposal for Raymond Crawford, to be carried out after a short recovery period at the lodge.

# Chapter 33

The letter to DCI Kane didn't seem to accurately portray the monster who'd authored it. There were elements which could be contrived subliminal apologies. However, the main thrust expressed weariness, thankfulness that retribution was almost complete. The footnote praised Kane for his tenacity in keeping the case so regularly in the headlines. This was highlighted as being the primary means of not only calling for retrospective justice, but a demand for a public inquiry.

Crucially, the last sentence disclosed the location and names of the two latest victims, and that there would be minimal odds of finding them alive. This final bait was penned to ensure the incident was checked out with extreme urgency.

Kane asked Alice and Weaver to join himself and Vernon. "He's hoodwinked us again. Read this while I organise uniform to accompany us to this warehouse. Something is bothering me about him writing to me, if indeed it was him."

The uniformed squad spread out around the perimeter of the building. An armed response unit battered down the door and disappeared inside. Within a minute, the commander returned to say there was no threat to Kane and his team, but they should prepare themselves for a gruesome crime scene

Upon entering the building the team heard a familiar sound. As they followed it to the death chamber, they all turned away in horror. Not only at the grotesque victims of Rossi, but also at the gnawing rats fearlessly stripping the two corpses. It drew a picture of the very first body on Red Kite Walk, Harvey Brewster. The difference being that this feast had obviously only been going for a short period rather than several hours. Kane reacted instinctively, took out his sidearm and fired several shots at the ceiling, startling everyone else in the room. The rats fled and they re-locked the doors.

"Weaver, get on to the station and ask Hugh and Jenny to get here pronto. I'll have to call the Chief Constable."

For Hugh and Jenny this had become all too familiar, until they removed the tape from Alistair Jenkins' mouth. Jenny leapt back at the sight of the dead spider. Someone had to take it out. Hugh volunteered and very carefully used a spatula just to be sure it was deceased. He shovelled it into a sturdy container rather than a plastic pouch. They were more prepared when pulling the tape away from Neville Bright's mouth, until the spider dropped out of its own accord. It didn't move, but Kane took over, taking off his shoe and splattering it over the floor with a single blow.

The word had percolated around the station rapidly, via the armed response team, and the Chief Constable was in the process of trying to calm the mood when Kane finally called. He took the unprecedented step of saying he was on his way, despite being told that the scene wasn't for the faint of heart.

Two hours later they were all utterly deflated, trying to process how this could have been carried out by one person with a significant spinal disability. The skipping of the next two names on the list was considered as highly significant, but the escalation in violence and killing two targets simultaneously was new. This was debated testily as to why. Morale was at an all-time low, but Vernon wouldn't be moved from his view that he'd expressed the day before. "There is something he can't control and to me it signals that he might try to repeat this. We only have two targets left. God knows what he has lined up for them."

"At least we have Neal Hetherington safe," said Alice, "what will Rossi make of not being able to contact him anymore?"

This catapulted Raymond Crawford's whereabouts back into their equation.

*

After an undisturbed sleep at the lodge, Rossi basked in the confirmation that the police were investigating a double murder. He tried to gauge how much room this had created for his last push. There was now no doubt that his condition was accelerating, and he couldn't conceive the misfortune of falling at the last hurdle. His daily morphine dosage was now increasing in leaps rather than increments. Raymond Crawford would be a much easier target than Neal Hetherington, simply because he was a regular at the night club where Rossi's friend was one of the bouncers. It could actually be de-complicated by becoming a 'walk in – walk out' job. In any case the guy didn't rank highly in the list, only being a sycophantic 'one of the boys' in order to stay clear of bullying. He was a loner, secretive, cunning, and above all, unashamedly renowned for changing sides at the drop of a hat, enabling him to bask in upward ranking of self-esteem.

Striking that night would surely not be anticipated by the police. They'd be mired in explaining their latest episode of incompetence to the media and top brass. Additional confidence came to Rossi, despite the pain he was already suffering, in the knowledge that Crawford was obsessed with the belief that every woman on the planet found him attractive. In reality he was a turn off, a pest with a turbocharged mouth. So Rossi didn't have to think about distracting him, the idiot was doing so himself.

He raked around in his wardrobe for suitable garb. He wasn't into fashionable attire but realised he needed to blend in. The quickest and surest way was to hire an evening suit from an outlet which specialised in dress rentals for all occasions. The clock was ticking, even though his usual appetite was waxing and waning with alternating morphine effectiveness.

*

Rossi was right in his assessment that the police would be plagued by media accusations, the kind which could not be simply side-stepped or postponed. Vernon had suddenly been recalled to London because of a serious terrorist incident which he declined to discuss with the Newcastle team on strict orders from above. The Chief Constable seemed to be trying to extricate himself rather than answering the questions directly. Alice and Weaver were still chasing down Raymond Crawford and drawing blanks. Kane simply sat next to the Chief Constable, silently trying to guess when he'd be invited to take some of the questions. He felt like rising to his feet and giving some straight answers to these journalists, but was never allowed to contribute in any way, by strict orders from his boss. The session was becoming unruly and Kane was privately urging the Chief Constable to stop digging himself into a hole which would lead to both of them being dismissed from office. It all culminated in the Chief Constable walking out in apparent surrender. Kane stood up to take the microphone but the room emptied before he could get the attention of any journalist.

It was way beyond normal working hours so Kane suggested Alice and Weaver join him for a briefing in the pub. They agreed to his plea, but only for one drink as they each had standing arrangements to honour. After hearing the detail of the press conference there was disbelief. Alice said she needed to leave in ten minutes but said she'd get the second round in if they could gulp the drinks down quickly. It was almost nine o'clock when she came back from the bar with three gin and tonics.

"You know when things just couldn't get any worse, but then they do? I overheard the barman telling a customer that a guy collapsed and died in a night club at the other side of town. Are you both thinking what I'm thinking?"

*

It was accurate. An ambulance had been called but arrived too late to save the victim from dying. The uniformed police were at the scene and had already called in the incident. Kane said he had to go there and face whatever music was thrown at him. Weaver went home but Alice said she'd put her arrangement on hold. "It's ok, guv, Glen's also a cop, he understands."

Kane asked the ambulance to take the body to the police morgue. He rebuked the night club management for possibly corrupting a crime scene, but was politely ignored. Alice began gathering up items which could be of interest to Jenny the next morning. Calming down a little, Kane started to ask staff and club members to talk him through what had happened. Predictably, nobody knew anything other than Crawford had been dancing and collapsed on the floor.

Alice had loaded all of her items into a box except Crawford's unfinished drink, an appropriately named 'sex on the beach' cocktail. She hesitated, then asked the barman for a screw top container into which she could transfer the contents of the cocktail glass.

An hour went by before the two of them conceded that they weren't going to learn anything more at the club.

They split up, having agreed that there was nothing more they could usefully do without Hugh and Jenny. They reluctantly called it a night.

*

The whole station was every bit as silent as the morgue, to which Kane and Alice marched together. Hugh thanked him sarcastically for yet another body being lined up for an autopsy.

"Not lined up, Hugh. Top priority, like now. I'll be back to see you in two hours. Yeah, I know that's impossible but I'll check in with you anyway."

Alice was already quizzing Jenny in the same manner.

"Well, detective, it will take as long as it takes, but I can see some incompatibility within what you say is a cocktail. Not layering as cocktails often do, rather like stringing, but maintaining a refusal to mix when shaken. Come back later this morning. Oh, by the way, the two desecrated bodies you dumped on us from the warehouse do have blue patches on the lower back, indicating antidote presence. As yet I don't have quantitative results. Apart from that, I think these two deaths were exactly what they seemed to be, regardless of any further forensic tests. One killed solely by an arachnid and the other with an additional complication of slowly bleeding out from a leg amputation without anaesthetic. Nice."

*

Rossi wasn't so happy after all. The data on Neal Hetherington showed a very rigid schedule which hardly ever varied. He wasn't observable at any of the usual places. He began to lose whatever semblance of control he had left. He'd been so thorough and careful. The business being closed could only mean two things as far as he was concerned. There was some kind of family problem – a funeral, an accident or any event which warranted such urgent action. The second and disturbing theory was that the police had finally got one step ahead of him, they'd somehow decided to challenge him by putting aside the risk of stampeding the community into a lockdown of fear. The police were known to be very wary of being blamed for such blatant 'containment', during which a few sacrificial lives would be viewed as an affordable downside to avoid public panic. It was the same with terrorism. Incidents were not deemed as such until they were later confirmed as such. 'Containment' wasn't a dirty word to them, rather a prudent means of appearing to be even-handed and inscrutably politically correct. They had tried a manhunt twice, most likely for the same reason. Rossi was becoming resigned to the probability that they'd pulled down their safety net and wrapped Hetherington in it. For now at least. He'd have to wait.

# Chapter 34

The body taken from the night club to the morgue had multiple items of identification in various pockets, illustrating Raymond Crawford's narcissistic tendency. Added to that, dozens of other regular customers knew that it was him. Nevertheless, tests had to be carried out to confirm the presence of neurotoxin in his cocktail and whether there was presence of antidote. They all knew it was the handiwork of Rossi, but accusation and proof were distinctly different things. Even if the police had him in custody right now, Rossi's fate would be in the hands of barristers, judges, and a jury of twelve citizens.

A feeling of abject failure seeped into those at the station, even those who weren't involved in the case. For Kane and his team of two, it could be summed up by the legendary phrase – 'they think it's all over, it is now'. The final whistle was about to be blown, unless Rossi would be skulking around until Neal Hetherington and his wife returned to their home and reopened their business.

The last two days had seen three victims on Hugh's autopsy slab without anything new being revealed.

All of this culminated in an announcement. There was to be an internal investigation, to determine if there was any proof of negligence.

"That's the final straw for me, Alice. I know you and Weaver have done nothing to be ashamed of. Quite the opposite, you've worked long hours voluntarily and without overtime compensation. I'm not going to let these vultures manufacture a scapegoat just as a PR exercise to satisfy the need for blood-letting. I'm going to resign after they interview me. I'll ensure that you and DC Weaver don't bear any responsibility for this sad outcome."

"Sir, you can't take all of this on your shoulders. You have to fight it, remember you still have a few years to go before they pension you off."

"Of course, and that will be my price for quitting, that my pension will be honoured by them giving me an early retirement package."

"And if they don't?"

"Well, they'd be forcing me to become media friendly. I'd only be telling the truth if I drew a picture of the top brass staging two manhunts and refusing to let me speak with targets as soon as we had the list. We did advise such a course several times. A confession like that, offered with sincere humility would reflect incompetence on many of our high command. Not something I relish doing, but this job has become one I didn't sign up for when I joined the force."

*

Alex Rossi attended a scheduled appointment with his oncologist. The scan was done on time, which was a nice change. However, the interpretation took almost an hour, by which time he'd taken another shot of liquid morphine.

He could tell by the oncologist's face that it was bad news.

"I'm afraid the problem has spread from the spinal tumour to the lymph. It was always a possibility but we expected something like this to respond better to the treatment we recommended."

"I have been feeling very poorly a lot recently. I knew it wasn't something trivial. Just tell me how long."

"Well, to be honest, I don't think you should continue to live on your own."

"That bad? So we're talking weeks?"

"It's not a precise science, it could be a couple of months, but the pain will increase and you should not be left to administer your own morphine. I strongly recommend you prepare to be admitted to a hospice. You will need around the clock care very soon."

"Ok, but I'll need to get certain things done first. I want to change my will, put the lodge up for sale, and inform someone I must meet with before I become a slavering vegetable. Can you make arrangements for the hospice? I'd prefer one in town."

"Of course, our palliative care staff will speak with you before you leave today."

*

The meeting with the Chief Constable was highly confrontational. Kane felt he had nothing to lose. If he went quietly he would probably regret it in the years ahead.

"It would seem you're trying to dodge responsibility, DCI Kane. You're perfectly aware of the upcoming internal investigation. That will decide who got what wrong."

"I'm more than happy to answer their questions clearly and honestly if that's what you really want. My offer is to ensure my team are treated fairly, nothing else. We've all made mistakes during these killings. You, Knox, and myself. However, some lives would have been saved if you and Knox hadn't wasted resource and time on a manhunt, not once but twice. My repeated requests were not just verbal, the last one was in writing. It also underlines that I recommended speaking with Aaron Phelps urgently. You wasted more valuable time procrastinating. That was what condemned Aaron, because it became obvious that Rossi was never going to postpone his attack on that Saturday. But you and Knox claimed it was my team that fucked up. It was a coincidence which wouldn't have occurred if I'd got Phelps safe a couple of days sooner. I'm pretty sure Knox was forced out to save your arse, nothing more. Look, my offer gets you off the hook again and without it I don't rate your chances of pulling the wool over the investigators eyes. Perhaps you'd be well advised to think about what I'd be asked by the press if I'm unfairly made the only scapegoat. Do it my way and you'll have a clause in my retirement package which makes honouring it conditional on my silence. I'll go quietly."

They parted and agreed to resume in the afternoon. A poorly disguised ploy from his boss to take advice from higher up the food chain.

*

Rossi was settling into the hospice. His thoughts centred on how he could maximise the impact of his impending death. Nothing had diminished his dedication to seek justice for so many young girls who'd been let down by teachers, police, and the judiciary system. Neal Hetherington had escaped his clutches but that was now irrelevant. He looked around the place in which he would spend his final days. It had a strange smell. Most of the residents were cheerful despite their condition. The staff were excellent, not only with medical issues, they were able to help in keeping everyone in good spirits. The irony of the situation made him think back ten years. Here he was, receiving kindness from truly sympathetic people when he should have been facing a different death sentence. What would they think if they knew?

These recurring thoughts prompted him to pen his letter before it was too late. Not to his estranged parents or former school friends. To someone who could help him.

*

The Chief Constable had miraculously struck a deal for Kane. The soon to be ex-Detective Chief Inspector would have to sign off the paperwork before the internal investigation began. There were one or two clauses he could have debated but chose not to, as long as the retirement package was legally watertight.

"I'll be happy to sign this after I've run it past my solicitor. I'll attend to that right away. So, we should be ready for the investigation people by tomorrow or any time afterwards. I take it that there is no longer any animosity between us and you won't mind if I don't refer to you as 'sir' anymore?"

"The sooner this is over the better."

"As a matter of interest, how will you proceed with finding Rossi? I get the feeling he isn't simply going to look at Neal Hetherington as the one who got away."

"I'd rather not discuss that, but rest assured we will get him."

"When you say we, it sounds like you expect to come through this investigation with an unblemished record."

"Let's just wait and see, shall we?"

*

Alice was making a huge effort to underplay how Kane's departure would affect her. She'd grown used to his idiosyncrasies. The thought of some fast-tracked forward thinking boss, years younger than herself wasn't appealing. She found a temporary distraction by organising Kane's leaving party. There would most definitely be no invites for high ranking blowhards like the Chief Constable.

Meanwhile, the solicitor had assured Kane that the deal was surprisingly generous and legally enforceable. He beckoned Alice and Weaver to join him. "Well, it's done. I'll officially be out of here the minute the internal investigation is over. So, I'll say it now. I thank you for your diligence, your candour, and your professionalism during these torrid last few months. I don't know whether you'd want to keep in touch going forward so I'll just leave that invitation on the table for you to think about. We didn't succeed but what really shows the stuff we're made of is how we handle failure. The two of you might not be able to see that at present, but it will benefit you in the long term. I mean as a person, not just a police officer. You are both likely to be called to speak with these investigators. My advice to you would be to follow your gut and tell it the way you see it. I don't want either of you to get into trouble for the wrong reason. I'm sure you're both savvy enough to do what your conscience tells you. Now, go on, back to what you were doing, and that's my last order to you."

He then sought out Hugh. "Just a final comment to a valued colleague and pathologist. I wanted to pass on my belief that the force needs to add a new cause of death to the bible. The best I can come up with is 'the unjustness of unsafe verdicts'. It doesn't fall under our remits, Hugh, but we can't deny its validity."

*

September 2000

The investigation was over. No acting officer was found to be negligent or incompetent. In a word – pointless. Unless lessons were learned and responsibility should come with appropriate changes in authority regarding crucial decisions. In truth it was reported as a rigorous examination of police standards to be accessible by the public. Predictably, other than Kane retiring, nothing changed.

At the leaving party, Alice was astonished to see ex-Superintendent Knox show up. She pulled Kane to one side. "What's he doing here? He wasn't invited."

"He was, I invited him."

"You, what the hell made you do that?"

"Knox and I had our disagreements and he was a hypocrite, but unlike your 'Chief Con', an honest hypocrite."

"Yeah, ok, cynical as ever, but actually even I can see that."

"Now then, Alice what I'm about to say stays between us until something significant is announced. I got a call on my mobile from someone whose voice and number I didn't recognise. He said it was important, wanted to show me a letter. He said he was in a hospice in the city. I was intrigued, and even more so when I visited him. He was in a great deal of pain but wanted me to have this letter. I'll let you have it later. This guy thanked me for visiting but only had one thing in mind. I couldn't believe it when I looked at the name over his bed. Alexander Rossi. To cut a really long story short, the letter was actually a confession to all of the killings starting a year ago. He'd desperately wanted to finish his mission and then hand himself in. He was intending to use his trial to fuel a campaign to reopen the rape cases and Fatima Ahmed's alleged suicide. He wanted to serve life imprisonment to keep the case in the public eye. I told him that as far as I was concerned a criminal is exactly that and needs to be brought to account. He said he agreed and would have personally preferred the death penalty for what he'd done, but that was considered to be barbaric. He wanted the confession to stand even after he died, so that the case could be officially closed. He also suspected I might be able to champion the cause for the rape cases to be overturned as unsafe verdicts. I told him that I was about to retire, then he tried to remind me that a crime is a crime, and should never go unpunished. He passed away late last night. I could never do what he asked, but then I thought that my new status could have more influence with the media than I ever had as a cop. I'm thinking about getting in touch with Eleanor Wright again to see if she could get more of the girls who were raped to come forward and set the record straight. If you read Rossi's letter there are references to evidence that wasn't allowed to be presented at the original trial. Take the letter and use your own discretion as to whether it should be included in the case files. Let me know what you decide, and whatever that is, I'm going to tell Eleanor Wright that I'd be happy to help her challenge the original verdict, purely on behalf of those girls. To me, Rossi's obsession has no bearing on those intentions. I hope as a woman you can understand why I'd like to see justice done regardless of a ten year gap. If you recall, I recently confessed my trauma related to the Perry Dunston case in Leeds. That still haunts me and so does the unpunished raping of innocent young girls."

Alice's eyes misted up and she took the letter without hesitation. "I'll read it when I'm alone. And you will keep in touch won't you? You've got a track record of selective memory, you cantankerous old bugger."

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