Meyer held his breath, trying to remain perfectly still as to not make any noise. Steps crossed the office and then stopped, presumably at Wade’s desk. A few seconds passed, although to Meyer it felt like an eternity, before the steps moved back across the room. With a slam of the door, the office was empty once again.
Meyer fumbled around the cupboard for a light and found a pull cord above his head. A solitary bulb flickered on and the cupboard was lit in all its dust filled glory.
“That was too close,” Meyer said.
“You should get out of there now,” Rosalyn said.
“One minute, I think I may have found something.”
Lining the walls of the cupboard were hundreds of manila files, arranged alphabetically. Meyer pulled one out at random and opened it. Inside were details of an Inquisitor lead operation, assassinating a politician, from about twenty years ago. It showed who had ordered the hit, which was the head of the Department of Alternate Studies at the time, but looking more closely, Meyer realised the file was actually the record of the Inquisitor who committed the murder. It wasn't the official archive, that was in the sub-basement and held by the master archivist, this was a personal set of notes. What had he stumbled upon here? Meyer closed the file and looked at the Inquisitor’s name on the front, which was scribbled in a spidery hand Meyer knew to be Wade's. Underneath it was the word, ‘Possible.’ Meyer looked around and pulled out another file. It detailed a different Inquisitor, but this one seemed fairly normal, as normal a career as was possible in their line of work. At the back of the file was a section named 'leverage'. Mother in care home, from a poor family, drinking problem as a teenager. All the information Wade could use to cajole this man into doing whatever he wanted. Meyer looked at the front, but there was nothing listed under the name. He checked two others, the second of which had the same word on the front cover, ‘Possible.’
Meyer’s working theory had been that ‘Possible’ meant involved with some illegal act, like the ordered assassination, but after checking a few more files, he discovered he was wrong. The next file he found with the word ‘Possible’ written upon it was of another Inquisitor who had died, killed in action some four months previous. Meyer remembered the incident, believed to be the result of Deliverance. He started pulling out more files and found, to his dismay, that every single one that had the word ‘Possible’ on the cover of the file, the Inquisitor in question was dead. Then he thought of it. He searched for the files, but they was missing, no Inquisitors listed under Ravenscroft. His son's file or his wife's weren’t there - why was that? Their files weren’t there, but perhaps... Meyer searched the files under ‘F.’ Farrer, Farnsworth, Faye, Fender… Fellows. He pulled out the file and looked at the front of it, 'Henry Fellows'.
There it was, a yellow band of letters, ‘Possible.’
- Chapter 28 -
To trust the devil
“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
William Shakespeare, The Tempest
Alex awoke on the couch, a blanket laid across her body. Through waking eyes she looked across to the coffee table and spotted the wine bottle. It was empty, which explained the pain throbbing in her temples.
She stood, if a little gingerly, and headed to the bedroom, spotting the note by the dresser.
Emergency at work. Won’t be back until late,
C Xx
Alex struggled to remember the last time she had actually spoken to him, for weeks they had somehow managed to avoid each other. When he was home at a reasonable time, Alex had to work late and vice versa. Weekends disappeared and their entire relationship now seemed to exist via text or a quick call, both of them keen to quickly escape and carry on with their work. Was this love? She did love him, or at least, she thought she did. The idea of living without him was unbearable, yet she had considered it. Was that a sign of a healthy relationship? Being content wasn’t a reason to stay together, neither was not being particularly unhappy. Being with him felt safe, but was being safe enough? Their careers had progressed and the tracks their lives ran on had diverged over the past year, but she could fight for it, put in the effort to make it right again. Yet he had not made any effort, what did that say? Admittedly, he had never been good at any of that, but that was just him, he was the calm to her storm. The problem was, he seemed completely unable to show any kind of emotion, at least towards her, so maybe calm wasn't what she needed after all.
Alex stepped out onto the balcony and looked across the Thames. Day had just turned to night and the lights from the buildings across the river made the water shimmer like sequins. The day had passed without her and she still had so much of the CCTV footage to go through. Ugh. Where was her phone? She was always losing the damn thing, it had to be around somewhere.
She picked up the jacket from the dining room table and searched the pockets. Inside, her hand met something she was not expecting: a red business card. The Two Gates club. That slime ball, Byron, had obviously slipped it to her as she left. The man with all the answers, except to any question you wanted to ask him. What had he known that he had hidden from her? Then an idea struck her that she was sure she would later regret.
***
This time, 66b Angel Road was obvious to Alex as she walked down the street, but then maybe it was the red lights that flickered across the pavement like hot coals. There wasn’t a queue into the club and a group of loudly dressed fashionable-types sauntered in after simply giving a nod to the bouncer. Alex assumed it was a club for the ‘whose who,’ and if you knew about the place, that was enough to get you in. She moved towards the entrance and manoeuvred her dress as to give her the best possible advantage of getting in.
“Hey,” Alex said.
The giant doorman moved in front of her, blocking the doorway. He was the bouncer from before, but that wouldn’t be a problem, he wouldn't be staring at her face. The bullish man looked up and down her body, pausing at her breasts. He smiled, his gaze unblinking as Alex tried her best to smile back. Stepping aside, he let out a short laugh as she passed him, his eyes following her eagerly. Guys like him made Alex’s skin crawl, but their predictability was useful.
The club was a different place at night, the music thumping through the floor as the motion of the lights made the whole place a blur of movement. The place smelt of vodka and sweat, but that wasn’t different to any nightclub Alex had ever been in. She sidled next to the bar and ordered a Black Russian, having to shout to be heard over the noise.
“Detective Inspector Stroud, so nice to see you here tonight. You are not working I trust?” Byron said.
Byron stood behind her, dressed in a black suit that glimmered slightly. Alex turned and, leaning forward slightly as to accentuate her cleavage, let out a false girlish laugh while trying to seductively tilt her head. She'd never found being tantalising terribly easy, it always felt like a bit of joke to her, but she really needed to turn it on now. If she could get Byron to speak, it would be worth the embarrassment.
“No, I’m just here to see what all the fuss is about,” Alex said.
“Then you won’t mind me getting you another of those?” Byron said.
Alex took a double take, but Byron was already holding a cocktail in his hand, a Black Russian.
This was a very bad idea.
The two took a seat at a table on a raised platform, overlooking the dance floor. As they had approached the table, the people who were sat there moved away without a word being spoken. It was like Byron was in control of the very beat of the place, the club responding to his every command.
“So Byron, do you own just the one club?”
“One keeps me more than busy. Tell me detective, are you married?”
“A little forward,” Alex said, pouting her lips slightly. “No, I’m not married. If you are offering, we should probably get to know each other a little more first don’t you think?”
“I like you detective, you strike me as the type who always goes that extra mile.�
�
“I like to get what I want.”
“Good. So what do you think of my club then?”
Alex looked around her. The crowd was the typical mixture you expect in a high end nightclub. There were rich businessmen, investment bankers and the like, the arty types and the minor celebrities, although Alex wouldn’t have been able to pick those out. Naturally, there was the gangster angle, there are always elements of a gang operating in a club. From what Alex could see, Byron was managing to sustain multiple gangs all operating under the same roof, which was quite something. Taking different sections of the club, the top figures were easy to spot, surrounded by a gaggle of girls, their lieutenants hovering close by.
There was also another group, although Alex wasn’t quite sure how to categorise them. Bohemian was the word that came to mind, dressed in tailored clothes, with a confidence, or just an aura to them, that set them apart from the rest. She was wondering which category the Greys Inn victim would have fallen into, when something made her heart stop. She saw him, her unknown victim, moving across the dance floor towards her. But she had seen his body, cold and bloody, just nights before, his throat slit and a knife plunged into his chest. He was dead.... but then the body had disappeared. Was it possible? By some freak of nature was he alive?
As the man she thought to be the Greys Inn victim approached, Alex saw that she was wrong. It wasn’t him, although he looked very similar. The same slim build, tousled hair in a fashionable mess, bespoke jacket and skinny jeans. He was almost the spitting image, except it was wrong somehow. As he reached their table, Byron called out to him.
“Henry, how are things?”
“Just fine, thank you,” the man replied.
“You have come back to sample my fine club. I must say your attire this time is far more suited,” Byron said, laughing.
“We would love to stay and chat, but, you know, people to see and all that,” said the man standing next to him.
He had slicked back brown hair, but looked a good twenty years older than the other man. That was what was wrong with the lookalike, he was too young to be the victim. Perhaps she was just seeing him everywhere, his death had plagued her every waking moment, finding out who he was no doubt key to it all. A moment later he was gone.
“Who were they?” Alex said.
“Just some regulars of mine,” Byron said.
“I think I recognised the skinny one, what was his name. Henry?”
“You are thinking he was the man that was killed the other night, aren’t you? I suppose there is some resemblance. Not that I had ever seen your victim before, of course. I don’t think there is any relation there however, sorry to disappoint. Skinny bloke is quite a common look around here.”
“What’s with the game Byron, you obviously know who the man that was killed was? You lied to the police about an on-going murder investigation, that is a criminal offence.”
“On-going? Come now Alex, who do you take me for?”
“Someone who is up to their eyeballs in illegal dealings and if you know what is good for you, you will answer my questions. Otherwise, it is easy enough to stir up trouble and that would be bad for business surely?”
“Now the truth comes out I see. Those sort of threats are ineffective with me detective. You see, I know people all the way up the police command chain that will vouch for me being an honest businessman. You need to come here with something to trade,” Byron said.
“Trade? Like what?” Alex said.
He wanted sex, didn’t he. Or just the power of having it when he wanted, or maybe it was just a favour he wanted, a get out of jail free card.
“You and your boyfriend are going through some difficulties,” Byron said.
“How do you know that?”
“I would like you both to go out for lunch tomorrow, my treat.”
“What’s the catch?”
“Does there always have to be a catch, detective?”
There was a motive behind every action the man took, he needed this to happen for some reason, although Alex couldn’t fathom why.
“And what will you give me, besides this free meal?” Alex said.
“Two things detective, two pieces of CCTV footage that I think you will find… illuminating,” Byron said.
“CCTV of what?”
“The first is the CCTV overlooking the house where your Grey’s Inn victim was attacked, the second of the individual who took his body from the morgue.”
Alex froze. If this was true, then Byron was up to his neck in all this.
“You cannot present the evidence of course,” Byron said.
“Of course, the government wouldn’t take too kindly to me handling confiscated footage.”
“Exactly, so we have a deal?”
“What do you get out of it?”
“The knowledge that I could have saved your relationship, you will owe me nothing except a small favour in the future, perhaps. That is all, I promise.”
“There must be something more to it than that?”
“Do you not trust me detective?”
“No, I don’t.”
“That doesn’t mean you won’t trade with me though, does it?”
Something felt majorly wrong, what could he gain by them going to lunch? It seemed such a small gesture for a massive reward, but she would regret agreeing to it, she knew that.
“And I will get my killer?” Alex said.
“Perhaps. I will just provide the footage. Do we have a deal?”
Alex’s mind was shouting at her to refuse, but what if this was the only lead they got?
“We have a deal.”
- Chapter 29 -
The effects of Russians
Alex woke up in bed with a cotton mouth and a splitting headache. It was the second day in a row she had woken up with a hangover, hopefully it wasn’t becoming a habit. How many Black Russians had she finished off last night? Oh, now she remembered - too many. What had she agreed to with Byron? A deal that benefited her more than it did him, although he would never propose a deal on those grounds. He knew what he was doing, the only problem was Alex had no idea what that was. Damn, she was supposed to organise lunch.
The doorbell rang and Alex staggered from bed to answer it, grabbing her phone as she walked down the hall.
Sounds lovely, see you at one.
C Xx
Alex looked at the unread text message on the screen, unlocking the phone to see what it was in reply to. It was a message was from her, although she had no recollection of writing it.
I have booked us in for dinner at La Boheme at one o’clock. We haven’t seen you each other in ages and this really means a lot to me, hope you can make it.
Love,
Alex
The message had a time stamp of 11pm, but she had still been at The Two Gates Club then. She had no memory of composing it, had Byron somehow got hold of her phone? The door knocked again and, to put an end to the hammer battering against her brains, Alex undid the latch and opened it.
Dimitri was stood at the door with two cups of coffee and a grin across his face, as his eyes immediately looked south. Alex followed his gaze and realised how she was dressed - a loose fitting top and a pair of very, very, short shorts.
“Good morning Alex,” Dimitri said.
“Good morning,” Alex said.
“Good morning legs.”
“Oh shush.”
Alex snatched a cup of coffee, turned and headed towards the living room. Dimitri followed her inside.
“What do you want?” Alex said.
“You asked me to come over, said you wanted to go over all the case notes again, see if we could spot something everyone else missed. Not quite sure how we were going to do that.”
She couldn’t remember saying that either. How much had she had to drink last night? Alex let Dimitri into the living room and finished the cup of coffee, along with two paracetamol.
“I'm gonna take a quick shower, I'll be back in fi
ve.”
She wasn’t exactly fighting fit, but after a freezing shower and two painkillers, she was in a damn better state than fifteen minutes before.
“Rough night,” Alex said.
“You look pretty hot for a rough night, what you get up to?” Dimitri said.
“The Two Gates Club.”
“What the hell Alex?”
“He has a lead for us, CCTV footage.”
“Of the Greys Inn murder?”
There was a palpable silence in the room and Dimitri let out a nervous laugh.
“You serious? How the hell did he get hold of that?” Dimitri said.
“We don’t need to know,” Alex said.
“This is a bad idea, do you know who you are dealing with?”
“Not exactly, but what other option did we have?”
“Hell, I wouldn’t have made a deal with him, but if you think it’s okay…”
“I do.”
Dimitri moved across to the table and spread the case files across the tabletop.
“I don’t like it, but I trust you. Maybe we should just get down to business, how do you want to go about re-examining the cases?” Dimitri said.
“Let us go back to the facts, we need to be methodical about this,” Alex said.
“What do you think we will find?”
“I just want us to go through it, use each other as a sounding board, without tens of people shouting their opinions.”
“Okay then, I’ll let you lead the way.”
“Right then,” Alex said. “So the crimes have all been committed at night.”
“And CCTV footage has been available, close to the murder sites for…” Dimitri flicked through the notes, “for all of them except victim’s 3, 6 and 7. None of them caught anything.”
“We also have examples of CCTV equipment being either disabled or broken for every case, so essentially, we have no footage of the crime scenes. We’ve been checking footage further out, but so far we are coming up empty.”
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