Your Life or Mine

by Vicki Bradley

  ‘I’ll find out if any maintenance has been done at Camberwell recently and brief the POLSA team.’ Kowalski stood up. ‘You work on the profile with Lena. Let’s keep Winter in the loop. We’re getting somewhere.’

  Loxton nodded, but found herself wondering if they were getting anywhere. If she’d pushed Barratt harder somehow, could she have got more out of him? Had she missed an opportunity to help her friends?

  * * *

  Loxton admired Lena’s work ethic. They’d been working on the profile for hours, looking at Emma’s murder and reviewing the Barratt murders. Trying to see the pattern.

  ‘The more I look at this,’ Lena said, ‘the more I think Emma’s murder is closer to a Szyman´ski killing than a Barratt killing.’

  ‘You mentioned Szyman´ski when we saw Barratt.’

  ‘Yes, he appears to have been Barratt’s inspiration, according to the psych reports.’ Lena sighed. ‘Krystian Szyman´ski was the worst Polish serial killer in modern times. Not many people will say that name out loud out of respect for the victims. And because people are afraid. He caused complete panic when he was active. Targeted female tourists in Poland and women in the tourist industry. Raped and then strangled them to the point that their windpipes were crushed, just like Barratt. Left handwritten notes at the scene taunting investigators. Never any forensics. The body stored somewhere and then placed in an iconic location. In Szyman´ski’s case, he left them in popular tourist spots. All women in their twenties, their whole lives ahead of them. People stopped coming to certain parts of Poland where he was operating. Communities struggled without the tourism revenue. He wanted to have maximum impact. Like this killer leaving Emma in a police station. His murders got more vicious as he continued. He started using knives to mutilate the bodies after he’d strangled them to death.’

  Loxton closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of her missing friends. ‘He sounds awful – and at least he was well named,’ Loxton said, finally remembering where she had heard the name before. The cleaner had been shouting ‘Szyman´ski’ over and over again when she and Kowalski had found Emma’s body.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Lena asked.

  ‘Szyman´ski means “terrible” in Polish,’ Loxton said, remembering what Kowalski had told her.

  Lena shook her head in confusion. ‘No, it doesn’t. It’s just a surname. It has no meaning.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Why did you think that?’ Lena asked.

  ‘I must have got confused, or perhaps it got lost in translation.’ She needed to think. Kowalski had misled her. Why? The cleaner had seen the body and had clearly recognized it as a Szyman´ski killing. And Kowalski hadn’t told her.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Lena asked.

  ‘I’m just tired, that’s all.’ It was a lie, of course, but she needed to understand what was going on before she involved anyone else. What was Kowalski playing at? He had probably assumed it was a coincidence. These killers were inspired by similar things – popular culture, films and books even. It was probably nothing more than that.

  ‘Did they catch Szyman´ski?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, we did,’ Lena said. ‘I was actually on the team that caught him. So was Dominik. It was Dominik who was instrumental. Szyman´ski had alibis for some of the murders, but Dominik wouldn’t give up on the idea that he was the suspect. He persuaded the lead investigator to search Szyman´ski’s house again after another killing and they found a microscopic piece of the victim’s skin in the plug in the shower. Without Dominik’s persistence, Szyman´ski might have managed to get away with it for longer. Dominik was always adamant it was him.’

  ‘Dominik?’ Loxton was surprised. He’d never mentioned it. Sometimes it felt like he’d always been in the Met.

  Lena nodded. ‘It was a long time ago. Eight years now. Poland had never seen anything like it, and we were ill prepared. They had to put a task force together. We were new in the job, both desperate for some excitement. We didn’t know what we were getting ourselves in for really. It was a nationwide search for the killer. Most officers got involved in one way or another.’

  ‘He’s still in prison, right?’ Loxton asked.

  ‘No,’ Lena said. ‘Actually he was murdered in prison a few months back. Another prisoner attacked him. Boiling water to the face and then stabbed in the neck.’

  ‘That’s strange timing,’ Loxton said, and glanced at Lena, who looked pale. ‘You look terrible. Are you all right?’

  ‘It’s just thinking about Szyman´ski makes me feel ill,’ Lena said. ‘It brings it all back.’

  ‘When did you last eat?’ Loxton asked.

  ‘Not since this morning. I’ll go grab myself something from the shops. And some fresh air will help.’

  ‘No problem,’ Loxton said. She knew how Lena felt. She had the same response with Barratt; it could be physical at times.

  Loxton picked up her mobile to give Kowalski a call. She wanted to ask him about why he’d told her Szyman´ski meant ‘terrible’ now that she was on her own. But just as she was about to dial, Anson strolled into the office and sat on the chair next to her, putting his feet on her desk.

  ‘Been looking for you,’ he said.

  ‘Have you never heard of a mobile phone?’ Loxton held hers up for him to see.

  Anson tilted his head at her in surprise. ‘Have you never heard of a tapped phone? I don’t trust them.’

  ‘Well, perhaps I shouldn’t. It seems you always know where I am anyway.’

  Anson smiled at her, but there was no warmth in it. ‘I have some bad news. I’ve tried all my sources and some that aren’t officially sources.’ He regarded his scuffed knuckles for a moment. ‘They weren’t all happy to see me. But none of that matters. Not a single one has any idea what went down in that warehouse or where Sarah’s gone. They knew a girl had gone missing, that the Albanians weren’t happy that she’d been taken, but none of them has any idea who took her.’

  Loxton frowned. Usually sources would have something, even if it was just rumours. ‘Not organized crime then,’ she said.

  He shook his head. ‘It’s like she vanished into thin air. The CCTV shows her going into the warehouse. She had communication with us from inside. And then she went silent. And then we stormed the place. There’s no evidence of her leaving.’

  ‘Maybe the Albanians realized she was undercover and carried her out.’ Loxton didn’t want to say ‘in pieces’, but she could see Anson had grasped her meaning from the look on his face.

  ‘No.’ Anson shook his head fiercely. ‘They have no idea. Trust me. I’ve been monitoring them. Not one of them knows anything. This isn’t to do with the organized crime world. This is something else.’ He trailed off and she saw dread in his eyes. It was out of his area of expertise. He didn’t know how to control it. Didn’t know what to do. She knew how he felt.

  ‘Barratt mentioned the sewers and there’s an access point in the courtyard of the warehouse. We’re sending POLSA through them. And we’re looking into Barratt’s fan base. We’ll find out who’s doing this. We’ll stop them.’

  Anson nodded roughly. ‘Yes. Yes, we will.’ He stood up. ‘That’s me done here tonight. I know a few more people I might try. I’ll push the Barratt angle. Someone must know something. I’m not going to stop looking for her.’

  ‘Me neither. Keep in touch.’

  He nodded at her and headed out of the CID office. As he reached the door he turned around and caught her eye. ‘Take care of yourself.’

  ‘I will,’ she said, but it felt like someone had walked on her grave. She usually told other people to take care, not the other way around.

  Chapter 24

  Tuesday 1 February, 23:55

  Loxton needed to talk to Kowalski about Szyman´ski, but she couldn’t find him anywhere in the police station and he wasn’t answering his mobile. He’d probably gone over to McDonald’s, knowing him.

  She returned to the office and found Lena was back, poring over the
reports of potential suspects that she’d compiled. ‘He’s got to be here somewhere,’ Lena said.

  The CID office phone rang and Loxton answered it.

  ‘This is DI Whitcombe, night duty inspector.’

  ‘Evening, sir. DC Loxton here, how can I help?’

  ‘I’m trying to get hold of a DC Kowalski. He’s actually just accessed his and your HR personal files on his laptop and it looks like he checked your home addresses. DCs normally don’t have authority to do that, so I need to speak to him. Do you know why he’s done that?’

  Loxton’s chest tightened. ‘I’ve no idea, but are you sure? I’ve just looked for him and he’s not in the building.’ Loxton thought of Anson, who had left five minutes earlier, then dismissed the idea. He didn’t need to check their personal records; somehow he’d already discovered where she lived.

  ‘The alarm that’s come through says the access was from the Walworth station secure Wi-Fi from the laptop registered to him. Someone could have hacked the system remotely or done it from his laptop. He’s not answering his mobile. Get him to call me back when you get hold of him and his laptop. I’ll call digital security now.’ He hung up on her.

  ‘Shit,’ Loxton said, and then fear gripped her. ‘Have you seen Dominik?’

  Lena shook her head. ‘Is he okay?’

  Loxton checked Kowalski’s desk and saw his laptop. She pressed a button on the laptop and, sure enough, Kowalski’s locked screen came up.

  ‘Someone’s hacked into Dominik’s laptop. I left the office empty for five minutes when I was looking for him. How long have you been back?’

  ‘Just a couple of minutes before you walked in. I didn’t see anyone on my way back into the building.’

  ‘Shit, where the hell is he?’ Someone else could be in the building and have accessed the files. She needed to know Kowalski was okay.

  She ran up to the canteen, Lena following her. The door was open and she could hear someone inside. The smell of fries hit her, and Kowalski turned to look at her as she rushed in. He frowned when he saw her and Lena’s faces.

  ‘What’s happened?’ He stood up, looking around in alarm.

  ‘Someone in this building has just accessed yours and my personal records,’ Loxton said. ‘They hacked into the system using your laptop and looked up our home addresses.’

  ‘What the fuck?’ Kowalski threw a furtive glance into the dark corners of the canteen. ‘How have they done that? I left my laptop in the main office.’

  ‘The office was empty for a few minutes,’ Loxton said. ‘It’s meant to be impossible to hack into the HR system anyway.’

  ‘Are they still in the building?’ Kowalski asked.

  Lena shook her head. ‘We don’t know.’

  ‘Let’s check the CCTV,’ Loxton said. It was kept in a small office behind reception and they headed down the stairs together, all of them straining their ears for any sound of an intruder nearby.

  Lena checked the security system. She frowned in confusion. ‘The only people to have swiped in this evening are us and a DS Anson.’

  ‘I saw Anson,’ Loxton said. ‘Did he swipe out?’

  ‘Yeah, about seven minutes ago,’ Lena said checking her watch. ‘Looks like he didn’t come back in.’

  Kowalski had logged onto the CCTV and scrolled through the screens covering the entrances and car park, rewinding at speed. Nothing except the three of them and Anson. There was no CCTV in the main office or any of the other offices. If they’d managed to get in without getting picked up, they could be moving freely through the building without being detected.

  ‘Could someone have gained access in the day and hidden themselves until the evening?’ Lena asked.

  ‘It’s possible,’ Loxton admitted. ‘This place is big enough to hide a football team in it if you wanted to.’

  ‘Or you could scale the wall around the car park at a CCTV blind spot and climb through an open window,’ Kowalski said. ‘But you’d have to know the station well to do that.’

  Security was always poor in police stations. People were expected to try to break out of custody, not try to gain unauthorized access. There was nothing of real value for anyone to steal, only out-of-date computer equipment and tired-looking office furniture. Not a burglar’s idea of heaven. And it was normally filled with police officers, although in recent years it was becoming more like a ghost ship what with all the cuts to staffing levels.

  ‘Call it in, Lena,’ Kowalski said. ‘They’re probably well gone, if they were ever here, and this isn’t some online cyber hack, but we’ll search the building just in case the bastard is still hiding somewhere. Loxton and I will start at the bottom floor in the middle and work our way down the corridors. When we hit the stairwells, we’ll go up to the next floor and so on. Hopefully we’ll force them onto the top floor, and they’ll be stuck. Lena, I want you to watch the live CCTV feed, keep us updated if you see any movement. And lock the door behind you when we leave.’

  ‘I will,’ Lena said.

  ‘The stairwells won’t be covered when we’re going down the corridors,’ Loxton said. ‘They might get past us.’

  ‘It’s the best we can do with the three of us, and the uniform will be on their way. They’ll stop them at the outer perimeter,’ Kowalski said.

  Loxton sighed. She didn’t like this.

  ‘Once I call this in, this place will be crawling with police officers in less than two minutes,’ Lena said, trying to reassure her, but Loxton knew just how long two minutes could be.

  ‘Come on, Alana.’ Kowalski was on his feet moving to the stairwell.

  Lena gave Loxton a worried glance.

  ‘We’ll be fine, just make sure you lock this door.’ Loxton followed Kowalski into the corridor.

  Kowalski pushed the double doors open and they climbed the deserted stairs. It was eerily quiet, the only noise their footsteps and her own ragged breathing. She pulled out her baton and flicked it open. The cold metal gave her comfort. Kowalski drew his baton too.

  She craned her neck so she could look up the entire stairwell, but she didn’t see anyone. At the first floor she pushed open the doors as quietly as she could and checked each room on the left while Kowalski searched the offices on the right.

  The robbery and burglary office normally held twenty officers and she systematically checked under the bank of desks, but there was no one there.

  As she came out of the office, she heard the noise of a door closing quietly ahead of her and her heart rate sped up. The lights there were flickering on and she tried not to panic. She crept forward towards the noise, baton raised high.

  The door in front of her opened a creak and she stopped as a large figure came out of the doorway.

  ‘Gówno!’ Kowalski said and stumbled backwards. ‘God, you’re quiet.’

  ‘Sorry, I thought…’ She lowered her baton, relieved that it was him. ‘Let’s try the next floor.’

  At the end of the corridor she gently pushed open the double doors and Kowalski carefully closed them behind him. They waited and listened at the stairs but there was nothing. She looked down the stairwell and above her, straining her ears for the tiniest sound, but she was met with silence. If the person had ever been here, they’d either already left the building or had gone to ground, hiding in one of the offices upstairs.

  On the second floor they repeated the same routine, finding no one in the canteen or offices. They climbed the final stairwell.

  The top floor had smaller offices, not wide-open spaces like the first and second floors. She rushed through her side, sure the perpetrator would be hiding behind a door waiting to attack her, but again there was no one. She closed her eyes for a brief second, relieved. She’d been convinced someone was still in the station.

  Her heart stopped as a crash sounded behind her, down the corridor, and then she rushed towards the noise. She saw an upturned table in one of the offices Kowalski had searched and ran to the stairwell. Kowalski was clattering down it two step
s at a time. She chased after him, her lungs bursting with the effort of trying to catch up. He smashed through the fire exit and out into the walled car park, Loxton a few seconds behind him.

  ‘Which way?’ she shouted as she caught up.

  ‘I’ll go left, you go right,’ Kowalski shouted back. Before she could speak, he rushed to the car park’s security door, pushing it open and running left. She ran out of the station car park and turned the other way, sprinting down the side street that led her onto the main road. Even past midnight the high street wasn’t deserted. The few people walking along the pavements took no notice of her. She ran towards a nearby homeless person, slumped underneath a cash machine.

  ‘Ted, has anyone come this way in the last few seconds?’

  ‘Nah, love.’ He shook his head. ‘No one.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Her voice was urgent and Ted sat up straighter. ‘This is important.’

  ‘I promise, love. I wouldn’t lie to you, you’re one of the nice ones.’ His rheumy eyes locked onto hers.

  She nodded. ‘Thanks, Ted.’

  She turned and ran back the way she’d come, pulling out her radio and calling up on the main Southwark channel. ‘Anything, Kowalski?’ she asked.

  Kowalski’s heavy breathing was the only response and she felt her stomach tighten in concern.

  ‘No one,’ he managed to reply. ‘All units, they’ve left the police station. Search the nearby roads.’

  ‘Any description?’ A police operator asked.

  ‘Dark clothing, athletic build, male. That’s all I’ve got.’ The disappointment in Kowalski’s voice was palpable.

  Loxton watched a police car sail past her with its headlights off. She met up with Kowalski outside the rear entrance. He shook his head at her, clearly annoyed with himself. ‘They gave me the slip. You?’

  ‘Ted says he didn’t see anyone and I believe him. I didn’t see them either so I can’t help with a description.’