Chameleon

by Michael K Foster

  ◆◆◆

  Twenty minutes later, Jack Mason was sitting at his desk and checking a fresh batch of emails he’d just opened. It was official: the middle-aged woman found hanged in Chopwell Wood had died under suspicious circumstances. Running through the toxicity report, an elevated level of benzodiazepines had been found in the victim’s body – a drug commonly prescribed as a sleeping aid and mainly used as a tranquilising anti-anxiety medication. Things were shaping up, and the fact the woman had been discovered in the kneeling position with another person known to be present, had enabled the coroner to return a narrative verdict of suspicious suicide rather than suicide.

  Strange, Mason thought. According to the coroner’s report, the noose around the woman’s neck had been pulled tight by her own body weight, thereby cutting off the supply of oxygen to her lungs. There were no signs of vagal inhibition – a reflex that leads to cardiac arrest – allowing Dr Gillian King, the Senior Anatomical Pathology Technician, to finally reach her conclusions. All that remained now, as far as Jack Mason was concerned, was to be put in charge of the case.

  He closed his computer down, grabbed a notebook and pen, and made a beeline towards his boss’s office. Deep down he had a bad feeling about this and wasn’t looking forward to their meeting one little bit. Mason was already running late and the Area Commander was a stickler for punctuality.

  ‘Take a seat, Chief Inspector. You’re five minutes late!’

  ‘Apologies, sir. I got side-tracked by the coroner’s report.’

  Dressed in full police uniform, white collar and black tie, Superintendent Gregory’s facial expression gave very little away. When Mason was a young copper working with the Metropolitan Police, he’d always had an aversion towards well educated, high ranking officers. Many were knobheads, desk-bound idiots and far removed from the real crime that was taking place on the streets of our cities, whilst others were so entrenched in their self-opinionated beliefs that he could never get to grips with the legal jargon they spouted off at meetings. He guessed it was pure waffle, as many had an answer for everything and a solution for nothing when it came to the real crime.

  Gregory barely lifted his head as he took up a seat opposite. A dapper man, with grey swept back hair and high forehead, he had the eyes of a hawk, ears of a bat, and never missed a trick when it came to police procedure. Not the easiest senior officer to get along with, he rarely ventured out of his office nowadays. If he did, it was to present himself in front of media cameras at the end of every successful investigation. Mason hated press conferences at the best of times, and always regarded them as duplicitous affairs. Fake news ran rife, and whatever you said in front of the cameras was edited and taken out of context.

  ‘According to the coroner’s report, it would appear we have another suspicious death on our hands,’ Gregory began. ‘Do we know who this woman is?’

  ‘Not yet, we’re still in the initial throes of our investigations, sir.’

  ‘Given the time of death, most people would have been at work that time of day?’

  Mason nodded. ‘I would have thought so.’

  ‘And the black vehicle this young boy spotted, where are we with that?’

  ‘We’re pulling together local CCTV footage, but I’m not pinning any hopes on it. The problem is, we don’t have a positive description of the model or make other than the vehicle was black.’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘How are you coping with your light duties nowadays? I hear you’re still seeing a hospital consultant?’

  ‘Everything’s fine, and my physiotherapist thinks I’ll soon be back to full-fitness again.’

  Gregory lifted his eyebrows a fraction. ‘What about these new inquiries you’re involved in, do you think you’re up to it?’

  ‘It’s not a murder enquiry at this stage, so I would have––’

  ‘These things can go either way, even you should know that,’ Gregory interrupted.

  ‘That doesn’t mean I’m not up to it.’

  The Area Commander hesitated. ‘I’ve been giving it some thought lately, and I’d like you to take a backseat role on this one.’

  Mason’s face dropped. ‘Back seat role, what does that mean exactly?’

  ‘I’m concerned about your mental well-being, especially after all the physical trauma your body has gone through these past few months. This type of case can spiral out of control and before you know it, you’re put under enormous strain. Long hours and pressures of work are the last thing you need right now, Chief Inspector.’ Gregory lifted his head as if to make a point. ‘I’ve decided to bring another senior officer in on the case. Only as a temporary measure, might I add. Once the police medical board have passed you fit for work again, we’ll look at it again.’

  ‘So, it’s back to the desk job?’

  ‘Not in as many words,’ Gregory replied awkwardly. ‘This isn’t a major case as such and will only involve four or five officers at the most.’

  Mason nodded, then shrugged. ‘So, who do you have in mind?’

  ‘After careful consideration I’ve decided to bring in DI Gamble on this one. She’s a competent officer, suitably experienced, and I’m sure you’ll appreciate her keenness to get involved.’

  ‘And once I’m fully fit for work again does that mean I will take charge of the case?’

  Gregory shook his head dismissively. ‘Let’s wait and see what the medical examiners have to say first. This recovery of yours could take weeks, and I’d hate you to have a major setback – especially after all the effort you’ve put into getting back to your current fitness levels.’

  ‘So, it’s down to the police medical board?’

  Gregory smiled. ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘I see. . .’

  ‘I’m banking on your full cooperation on this one, Chief Inspector. Detective Inspector Gamble doesn’t have any axes to grind with anyone in the building, and I know the two of you will get on like a house on fire.’

  Like hell, Mason thought. Offloaded from Middlesbrough Special Crime Unit to take over control of his team, that was the last thing he wanted to hear. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. It wasn’t looking good suddenly, and he could think of a dozen better officers to do his job.

  ‘Who will I report to, now that DI Gamble will be running the show?’ Mason asked.

  ‘Directly to me. Why?’

  ‘I was––’

  ‘Rule number one,’ Gregory said, tapping the end of his pen on his desk, ‘you’re to observe case management protocol at all times. As far as I’m concerned, DI Gamble will handle the-day-to-day running of operations, whilst you will actively take on an advisory role. This is by no means a slant on your good character, far from it. And, I might add, it could lead to other things in the future.’ Gregory shuffled awkwardly knowing his arrangements had gone down like a lead balloon. He was floundering, and Mason had picked up on it. ‘You’re a good officer, Chief Inspector, and no one doubts your ability. The trouble is you’re not one-hundred percent fit and until you are, I’m not prepared to put my neck on the line.’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  Gregory took a few moments to gather his composure. ‘I can sense your disappointment, but you know it makes sense. These things take time, and the last thing you need is another setback.’

  Infuriated, Mason stood to leave.

  ‘Will that be all, sir?’

  ‘Yes, for now.’

  Just when he thought he was about to take control of a murder investigation, he’d been asked to play second fiddle. Not one for shying from the action, the thought of a junior officer heading up his team infuriated him. He would need to calm down, show a little respect.

  ‘Better get on with it then.’

  Gregory’s look was stern. ‘I want you to think very carefully about your new role. Try keeping it simple. In a few months’ time you’ll be a completely different man again. Mark my word.’

  Too damn right, Mason thought. It
was all utter bollocks. He’d been stitched up big time and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Emotionally drained, he slammed the Area Commander’s office door behind him and stormed off along the corridor. It was time to put up the shutters – think about his future.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Throughout his professional career, Chameleon had never failed to complete a mission. Ever. He’d come close on several occasions, but failure wasn’t an option. Despite a shady past, his word was sacrosanct – as was an impeccable success rate. Everything he did was to eradicate randomness; nothing was left to chance.

  Known to employees only as “Chameleon”, his part in operations was always considered a done deal – a guaranteed banker many would agree. Having amassed a vast fortune providing covert services in the shadier side of society, he’d built his reputation with two golden rules.

  Never renege on a client.

  Never make promises you can’t keep.

  A few days ago, at a place called Chopwell Wood, he’d made a grave misjudgement. There was no way he could have known at the time, but the boy who slipped through his fingers now threatened to unravel everything he’d built. It wasn’t looking good suddenly, and the thought had played over and over in his mind. These past few weeks had been a desperate scramble to recover the situation and take back control. Although a dozen other missions were in operation around the world, he had finally devised a plan to deal with the boy once and for all.

  Today, outside the school gates, he only had one thing on his mind. To find the boy and eliminate the source of his problems. He’d learnt over the years that you never gave in to the sympathy vote. Once you did, you were finished. There was a lot at stake with his part of the operation, and if the boy talked, he could open a can of worms.

  Wearing a pair of blue denim jeans, and a plain T-shirt, he merged in well with the regular parents. Not that anyone would question him over his presence here today, but it was the interfering do-gooders he feared most. That’s why he wanted to get it over with. Quickly, without fuss, and made to look like an accident. There were many ways to kill the boy, and it was never going to be easy. It was how he went about it that made the difference.

  He heard the school bell ring and watched as the kids spilled out onto the playground. Hundreds of them, screaming at the top of their voices and scattering in all directions like rats in a sewer. He thought he might recognise the young boy if he saw him again, but still he wasn’t one hundred percent convinced. It was only a fleeting glance, a snapshot in time. But without a name he was forced to work blind.

  Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Chameleon reached into his pocket and pulled out a sketch he’d made from memory of the boy’s school uniform. It was almost a perfect match – black V-necked jumper, red and yellow stripe tie, even the school logo was identical. As he peered at the sketch again, the more baffled he became. How would he pick the boy out from the rest of the children when they all looked the same in their school uniforms?

  What if he killed the wrong boy?

  Back at the hire car, he took out his mobile phone and frantically started to video everything that was going on around him. Nothing was obvious anymore, and everything was thrown into confusion. It wasn’t his fault the boy had witnessed what had taken place that day, but two wrongs didn’t make a right.

  He sat for a moment, thinking.

  Across the busy playground he noticed a second gate; and hundreds of kids spilling into the nearby streets. Seething with anger and frustration, Chameleon needed only a moment to make a snap decision. Slamming the gear lever into reverse, he hastily backed the hire car into one of the side streets, keeping an eye on his surroundings. Annoyed with himself, he made a slight detour around the back of the estate before pulling up twenty metres short of the gate. Next, he switched off the engine and peered out of the passenger window.

  Perfect, he thought, as he discreetly fired up his camera again. He would download the images later – once he was back at the hotel.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Detective Inspector Gamble’s appointment hadn’t gone down at all well in Jack Mason’s books. Not that he could do anything about it, but he was still reeling over the Area Commander’s choice of case leader. Convinced he should be heading up the investigation, his feelings were running high. Having spent the whole weekend deliberating over his future position on the force, he’d decided to do things his way. The last time he’d felt this way about his job, he was close to chucking it in. Not this time, though. Now that he’d got his head around it all, he was determined to put up a fight.

  ‘Morning, boss,’ DS Rob Savage said, breezing into his office. ‘No doubt you’ll have heard about the new appointment.’

  ‘What appointment is this?’

  ‘Detective Inspector Gamble from Middlesbrough.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Everyone thought that you were heading up the Chopwell case.’

  ‘Oh! What gave you that impression?’

  The sergeant stared at him, confused. ‘After you turned up at the Chopwell crime scene we naturally took it for granted that you were in charge of the investigation.’

  Much as Mason hated parting with hard-earned information, he wasn’t giving in that easily. Matters had got off to a bad start, and a few extra nuggets of misinformation wouldn’t go amiss at this stage. He took a sip of his coffee and paused in thought as he opened a sandwich carton he’d placed on his desk.

  ‘As far as I’m aware, DI Gamble is only here on temporary assignment.’

  ‘That’s not what she told us at this morning’s briefing.’

  Mason looked at the sergeant inquisitively. ‘Oh! What did she tell you?’

  ‘She’ll be running the day-to-day operations from now on, and anyone not pulling their weight will immediately be slung off the team.’

  Mason smiled with some satisfaction. ‘That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?’

  ‘It didn’t go down at all well with the team.’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘Bugger,’ the sergeant swore. ‘Sounds like I’ve gone and put my foot in it again.’

  Mason took a huge bite of his sandwich, knowing that Savage had wanted to get it off his chest. Strange, he thought, the sergeant usually kept his thoughts to himself.

  ‘You don’t seem exactly enamoured by her appointment?’

  ‘I was talking to––’

  There was a knock on the door, and the sergeant stopped mid-sentence.

  ‘Enter!’

  The door opened.

  ‘Ah! DI Gamble,’ Mason said, wiping the crumbs from his mouth. ‘Speak of the devil. I hear you are joining us?’

  Mason indicated to a chair opposite him, as Savage slid from the room. Five-foot-eleven, with short blonde hair and brown eyes, Gamble was a good three inches taller than Mason. Wearing a white open neck blouse, slacks, and black brogue shoes, she seemed pleasant enough. He knew her slightly from a case he’d worked on in Middlesbrough involving a child sex offender. She wasn’t part of his investigation team, but he’d heard rumours that she was ambitious and determined to climb the promotion ladder at any costs. How true the rumours were, he had no idea, but in this game, you had to cover your back.

  Itching to say something, Mason waited for the Inspector to break the silence between them, knowing full well what she was up to.

  ‘I thought we might spend a few moments together,’ Gamble began.

  ‘Always pleased to assist,’ Mason smiled. ‘What can I do for you?’

  There was another long pause.

  ‘I was rather hoping we might throw a few markers down . . . team strengths, budgets, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Of course,’ Mason said, feigning enthusiasm. ‘I’ve heard you’ll be running the day-to-day operations on the Chopwell case. Is that true?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘In which case you’ll find most of the information is already on file.’

  Gamble pau
sed for a moment then continued. ‘I thought it would be much nicer coming from you, Jack.’

  Mason picked up the other half of his sandwich and stopped short of his mouth. Not taking too kindly to her ease of the word “Jack”, he put it down again. ‘How do you see my role in all of this, Detective Inspector?’

  ‘It’s my understanding you’re still stuck on light duties.’

  ‘Yes, I am. But that doesn’t mean that I’m desk bound.’

  ‘We can both be flexible around that, Jack.’

  There it was again . . . “Jack”. He thought about it and pushed it to the back of his mind for a moment. ‘I have no objections to you throwing a few markers down, just as long as it doesn’t constrain people.’

  Gamble’s stare hardened. ‘Much as I hate taking over control of your team, we still have to work together on this one. Let’s be clear about one thing, though, we’re both striving to reach the same outcome.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Mason nodded. ‘And I’d hate to think we got off on the wrong foot.’

  ‘Those are exactly my sentiments.’

  Bullshit, Mason thought.

  Reaching over, he picked up one of the case files lying on his desk and casually tossed it towards her. ‘This woman we found in Chopwell Wood, her name is Margaret Cooper.’

  ‘Another desperate tale of woe?’

  ‘Quite the contrary, she was a barrister in real life, married with two teenage daughters and lived in a four-bedroomed detached house in Darras Hall. Three days prior to her body being found in Chopwell Wood, she’d gone to work as normal and that was the last her family saw of her. Up until now that is.’

  Gamble cocked her head to one side. ‘That’s unusual . . . a barrister you say?’

  ‘Ah huh. Mind, there’s a long history of depression according to Margaret Cooper’s medical records.’ Mason brushed the crumbs from his trousers and stood. ‘Four years ago, she was off work for six months having suffered a mental breakdown. Naturally concerned about his wife’s sudden disappearance, that’s when her husband reported her missing to the police.’