The Rebel

by Jaime Raven

  The news from Peckham was worse than bad. It came through at two o’clock in a phone call from DCS Drummond that was put on speaker so that we could all listen in.

  ‘This is a fucking clusterfuck,’ he seethed. ‘DS Marsden has been arrested along with two of his pals from Wandsworth CID and another who’s attached to the firearms unit. They took Slack to a car mechanic’s workshop with the aim of torturing a confession out of him. Luckily the response team arrived before they got down to the heavy stuff, but he was roughed up and is at the hospital. And before anyone asks, no, he didn’t confess to anything. He continued to deny being responsible for what’s going on.’

  This wasn’t what any of us wanted to hear. When the news got out it was going to be a public relations disaster for the Met. It wouldn’t matter that Marsden and his crew had acted out of desperation following the Commissioner’s murder. They had broken the law in a big way and had brought disgrace on themselves and the rest of us.

  It wouldn’t have been so terrible if they’d got him to fess up. They’d still be in trouble but it would have been worth it. Now, though, everyone lost out.

  There was going to be enormous pressure to leave Slack alone. And valuable time and effort was going to be wasted pursuing other suspects while Slack’s hired gun continued her merciless killing spree.

  There was a mixed reaction in the office. Some of the detectives condemned Marsden’s actions, including Janet Dean, who said there was no excuse for what he’d done.

  ’It’s not our job to act as judge and jury,’ she said. ‘The prick has shamed us all.’

  The discussion also triggered speculation as to who had betrayed him. And once again Janet’s reaction to what he’d done got me wondering if it was her. Was she the person who had given Slack all our personal details? The bent copper who was obviously working for the gang boss?

  We all knew that corruption was still endemic in the Met despite all the crackdowns. But this was more than an officer turning a blind eye to a gang-related enterprise. This was someone who was effectively colluding with a killer. Someone who even now was prepared to help Slack out of a tight spot.

  I told myself I was reading too much into what Janet was saying. That my suspicions had to be unfounded. She was a good cop. A decent cop. She would never stoop so low.

  I blamed the fact that my head was all over the place. I couldn’t shake off the rage that was making it hard for me to think straight. It was like trying to wriggle out of a straightjacket.

  Then just as I was telling myself that things could not get any worse, we all received another text message on our phones.

  And the pressure was ramped up yet again.

  The message contained another threat, and it caused the panic and anxiety inside me to grow into a flaming ball.

  You had your chance to stop this and you didn’t take it. Now it’s just about teaching you all a lesson. So from today every copper in London is a potential target, including those on the street and in their cars. And remember – as the bodies pile up you only have yourselves to blame.

  Any one of our suspects could have sent it, even Slack if he knew how to deliver messages on a time delay.

  But for me the most likely candidate was Danny Carver, who had been described by a member of the tech team as a computer wizard.

  To someone like him sending multiple text messages and remaining anonymous would be a piece of cake. The problem we had was that his house had been searched and his phone and laptop examined.

  But that didn’t mean they were the only ones he had. In fact there was a strong possibility that he had several more of each.

  I put my thoughts to work on it while everyone else was working themselves up into a lather over the latest text.

  My rational self was telling me that I should wait for Drummond to return and push for him to stay on Slack’s case and to go after Danny Carver with renewed vigour. But what if he told me to go home? That because of what Marsden had done he didn’t want anyone else to breach the rules or ignore protocol.

  I decided I couldn’t have that. I was too fired up. Too angry. And at the same time I was convinced that I was onto something.

  Find the fucking bitch who did this to me even if you have to break the rules to do so.

  I took a determined breath to stiffen my resolve. Told myself that I had no choice now but to follow Tony Marsden’s lead and go it alone. Desperate times called for desperate measures. And it wasn’t just a knee-jerk reaction to what Aidan had said. From where I stood we weren’t going to achieve anything by doing things by the book. We’d face restrictions. Solicitors. The law would work against us and more of my fellow officers would be murdered.

  I thought about involving someone else but decided against it. I didn’t want to place them in a difficult position or have them insist I tell Drummond.

  I had to do this by myself and if it didn’t pan out I’d be the only one in trouble.

  Suddenly my dad, my hero, was inside me head, barking orders and telling me to go for it and to hell with the consequences.

  And then, as if I needed further incentive, I saw Aidan in my mind’s eye lying on our kitchen floor. Followed by the blood-drenched bodies of Dave Prentiss and Marion Nash. And I thought about the baby who had been taken away from me. The most innocent of innocent victims.

  I asked myself if it was right that the people responsible might escape justice. The answer, of course, was an emphatic no. I therefore decided that I had to go with my gut.

  Returning to my desk, I printed off a few pages from Danny Carver’s file.

  Including his address.

  60

  Rosa

  She was having the time of her life and she didn’t want the day to end.

  They were now passing the Houses of Parliament on their way to the famous riverside area known as the South Bank.

  ‘You’ll love it there,’ Alice said. ‘If the queues aren’t too long we can go up on the London Eye. It has terrific views over the city. Then we’ll get some cocktails at one of the swanky bars before going for dinner somewhere really nice.’

  Alice was so excited she could barely contain herself, and Rosa loved her all the more for it. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that she wanted Alice to be a part of her future. A big part.

  She couldn’t imagine going back to Mexico. To her soulless apartment and the life that she now realised was devoid of fun and purpose.

  Before today she had never experienced the joy of sharing things. Or the thrill of knowing that someone enjoyed spending time with her. It had never occurred to her that she’d been lonely. Just alone. And until today that had been enough. But not anymore.

  ‘Ahead of us is Westminster Bridge,’ Alice said, pointing. ‘In a minute we’ll cross that to get to the South Bank. But first there’s another building I want to show you just to the left here along the embankment.’

  Rosa was still mesmerised by all the sights. She could now see the giant Ferris wheel they called the London Eye. Alice had already told her that it cost seventy million pounds to erect and was the most popular paid attraction in the country.

  Rosa had never been on a Ferris wheel. And she’d never been to a fairground either. She remembered her father telling her that he was going to take her to one. But that was a week or so before he was murdered alongside her mother, so it never happened.

  Rosa noticed a crowd of people up ahead. There were also several police officers in yellow jackets.

  ‘This is the place,’ Alice said. ‘It’s called New Scotland Yard and is probably the most famous police headquarters in the world.’

  Rosa felt her back stiffen.

  ‘It’s not usually like this, though,’ Alice said. ‘I wonder why …’

  And then they saw the flowers and the television camera crews and it dawned on both of them what was going on.

  ‘Oh God, these flowers are tributes to the Commissioner who was shot yesterday and those other policemen,’ Alice said.
‘Don’t they look beautiful?’

  Rosa opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. She wasn’t sure what to say or how to react. But she did know that she had to remain calm, that there was no need to get anxious.

  Alice pulled on her hand so that they could have a closer look.

  Rosa was surprised at how many flowers had been laid here and at the number of people who had come to look at them. She guessed there were over a hundred, and some were in tears.

  The building itself also surprised her. It had an art deco façade and looked more like a luxury hotel than a huge police HQ.

  Alice let go of her hand and crouched down to read some of the cards that people had attached to the flowers.

  While she did that, Rosa looked around, and it occurred to her that she was responsible for all of this. It didn’t make her feel guilty. Just strange.

  She had killed more than fifty people in total and had never stayed around long enough to see first-hand the grief she’d left behind. This was another new and sobering experience.

  Alice stood up, took a tissue from her bag, and dabbed at her eyes.

  ‘It’s easy to forget what’s happening when you’re not watching the telly or listening to the radio,’ she said. ‘I feel like I’m at a funeral.’

  Rosa put an arm around her and pulled her close. Then she turned to kiss her forehead. As she did, she happened to catch sight of a woman who had just walked out of the building through the glass doors. She had brown hair and was wearing a black trench coat.

  Rosa recognised her from her photos and her heart quickened. The last time she’d seen Laura Jefferson had been two nights ago when she’d tried to kill her at her home in Balham.

  Now the detective was striding purposefully towards where she stood. And the look in her eyes was one of grim determination.

  Rosa was suddenly alert, but not unduly alarmed. This is nothing more than a wicked coincidence, she told herself. It can’t be anything else.

  Nevertheless she went very still as Jefferson walked towards her through the crowd. She looked to be in a hurry and paid no attention to the flowers on the ground.

  Rosa unzipped her bag, ready to grab the pistol inside if necessary.

  ‘Time to go, I think,’ Alice said, squeezing Rosa’s hand. ‘If I stay here any longer I’ll probably start crying.’

  Rosa didn’t move because at that moment Jefferson walked past them. Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second, but in the detective’s there was no sign of recognition.

  Rosa let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, and then allowed Alice to lead her away from the forecourt and onto the pavement.

  But Rosa’s eyes followed Laura Jefferson, who walked up to the edge of the kerb and flagged down a black taxi.

  The chance encounter had lasted only a few seconds, but it took much longer for the tension to leave Rosa’s body.

  What were the odds on that happening? she wondered. Ten million to one maybe. And what would she have done if the woman had recognised her? It was something that didn’t bear thinking about.

  The detective was the first target that Rosa had missed, and for that reason the woman intrigued her. She made a mental note to find out more about her. Purely out of interest. She wondered how long she had been a police officer. Whether she had children. If she had ever killed anyone.

  And for some reason that Rosa couldn’t explain she was glad that Laura Jefferson was still alive.

  Perhaps it was because two nights ago she had proved to be such a worthy adversary.

  The South Bank was throbbing with people, mostly tourists and groups of students. And there were quite a few uniformed cops. But unsurprisingly Rosa was in no position to take any of them out.

  It wasn’t a problem, though, because she was prepared to bide her time. She was sure that sooner or later she would see an opportunity and be able to slip away from Alice. It wouldn’t take long or be that difficult to shoot an unsuspecting cop. She would just have to make sure that she wasn’t seen or caught on camera.

  The pistol had a suppressor attached so there wouldn’t be a loud bang. Just a muted crack as the bullet left the barrel. It was going to be risky. Of that she had no doubt. But Rosa did not intend to let her client down just because she had decided to go out and enjoy herself.

  She’d agreed that she would aim to carry out a killing a day and she was determined to do so. This was going to be The Slayer’s final assignment, after all, and she had every intention of ending on a high note.

  The queues for the London Eye were too long to consider joining, so they didn’t bother. Instead they went to a trendy bar in a hotel overlooking the Thames.

  They drank Tequila Sunrise cocktails, and Rosa pushed Laura Jefferson from her thoughts. It wasn’t difficult while she was with Alice. The woman made everything else seem irrelevant.

  ‘You know what scares me?’ Alice said. ‘It’s that this week is going so fast. Before we know it you’ll be heading home to Mexico, and I’m going to miss you so much.’

  Rosa saw this as an opportunity to test the water. To see if Alice was as love-struck as she was.

  ‘I could always try to extend my stay,’ she said.

  Alice beamed. ‘You really mean that?’

  Rosa nodded. ‘I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.’

  ‘My God that would be wonderful. You could check out of the hotel and stay with me in the apartment.’

  It was Rosa’s turn to smile like a cat who’s got the milk. ‘You’d let me do that?’

  ‘Are you kidding? It’d be like having Christmas come early.’

  There followed a five-minute display of mutual affection. They hugged and kissed and whispered endearments to one another. And they didn’t care that they were attracting attention from the other people in the bar.

  Rosa was on cloud nine. It seemed to her that this day just kept getting better.

  ‘I’ve been telling my parents about you,’ Alice said. ‘They’d like to meet you.’

  Rosa felt her stomach contract. ‘Really?’ It was all she could think of saying.

  Alice laughed. ‘Well, you don’t have to look so worried. They won’t bite.’

  ‘But why do they want to meet me?’

  ‘Because they’re curious. They know I’m besotted with you and they want to see the person who’s making me so happy.’

  Rosa was flattered, delighted and alarmed in equal measure. Delighted that Alice had used the word besotted and alarmed at the prospect of meeting her parents.

  It would, of course, be necessary at some point if she and Alice stayed together. But she wasn’t ready to take such a giant step. They were bound to ask questions about her job, her past, her family. And she hadn’t had time yet to get her story together. To re-invent herself.

  If they became suspicious they might make enquiries. They could find out that her name wasn’t really Maria Rodriquez. And that she didn’t work for the Mexican government’s tourism department. They might even alert the police in order to protect their daughter.

  ‘They’ve invited us both over to dinner any evening this week,’ Alice said. ‘They live in Chelsea. Please say yes. It’d mean a lot to them and to me.’

  Rosa didn’t want to disappoint Alice so she nodded and smiled and said, ‘Of course I’ll come. But the latter part of the week would be best for me.’

  That would give her time to either work on her story or come up with a good excuse not to go.

  Alice was overjoyed. ‘You’ll love them. I promise. And they’ll love you.’

  Only if they don’t see through the lies, Rosa thought.

  ‘In fact I’ll call them now and suggest that we arrange it for Thursday or Friday,’ Alice said.

  Rosa stood up. ‘And while you do that I’m going to the restroom.’

  It was an excuse to slip away so that Alice wouldn’t notice that the smile plastered on her face was a false one. A short toilet break would give her time to collect her thoughts an
d stop the panic from swelling in her chest.

  But that wasn’t how it turned out because on the way to the ladies she saw someone who gave her much more to worry about than meeting Alice’s parents.

  It was Roy Slack, the man she was working for.

  He was looking down at her from the TV screen on the wall above the bar. His face was battered and bruised and he was telling a reporter that he’d been kidnapped by a group of police officers.

  61

  Slack

  He hadn’t expected a camera crew to be waiting outside the hospital’s A & E department. Someone must have tipped them off.

  Under any other circumstance he would have told them to get lost. But now he was keen to let the world know what those coppers had done to him.

  ‘So were the police officers known to you?’ the reporter asked.

  ‘Only one of them,’ Slack said. ‘The others were wearing balaclavas.’

  ‘What can you tell us about him?’

  Slack grimaced and rubbed a knuckle into both eyes. Then he shifted his weight and looked directly at the camera.

  ‘I’ve been told not to say anything, but to hell with that. These cuts and bruises on my face are courtesy of a detective sergeant Tony Marsden. He’s with Scotland Yard’s organised crime task force and he made it clear that he was going to torture me and then kill me. If the other bunch of coppers hadn’t turned up when they did I’d be dead.’

  ‘So were you told why they kidnapped you?’

  ‘For sure. The Old Bill are in a panic. They don’t know who’s behind the murders of the Commissioner and those other people. They’ve come up with a list of suspects and I’m one of them. I’ve protested my innocence but they don’t believe me even though they’ve got no evidence proving I’m involved.’

  ‘That’s a strong accusation to make, Mr Slack.’

  ‘But it’s true. They’ve had it in for me for years. They say I’m a crook, but they’ve never been able to prove it and they don’t like it.’

  ‘So you’re denying you had anything to do with the Commissioner’s death and the threats against the other officers.’