Beautiful Death

by Fiona McIntosh

  Kate put her paper cup down. ‘Well, I have a theory. It’s bizarre but I can’t get it out of my head.’

  ‘Well done, Sarah. Okay, you have my full attention, Kate,’ he said, regarding her intently. He sensed she was about to surprise him. ‘Your turn.’

  Kate nodded, licking her lip gloss. ‘I know it sounds a bit far-fetched, sir, but I’d like us to consider the possibility that this person is not removing the faces to cover his tracks and make it hard for us — or he’d have destroyed his victims’ teeth as well.’

  Jack sat forward. ‘This sounds like a horror movie.’

  Kate nodded. ‘I know, sir, but barring Ms Wu, the victims are unknowns. I’m betting our killer knew that, so he didn’t bother to remove teeth or fingers because he knew we probably couldn’t trace them. Now, either Ms Wu was an error in judgement, or he needed what she had badly enough to take the risk of going after someone who was readily traceable.’

  Jack felt a tingle of new energy creep up his spine. Everything Sarah had said thus far was logical and credible. But Kate’s theory was leading him somewhere he was daunted to go. He steeled himself. ‘What are you saying?’

  She paused. Jack sensed Kate was weighing up whether whatever it was she was about to say was going to sound frankly too bizarre to be credible.

  ‘I think he’s slicing off their faces because that’s what he’s after in the first place.’

  He opened his mouth but she cut off his words before he could say anything. ‘Sir, hear me out.’

  But Sarah was already nodding, a look of wonderment on her face. ‘There is no such thing as a routine transplant of a face. Hearts, lungs, kidneys, livers, lenses from eyes, cartilage … it’s all amazing to us poor plebs but to the medical community, transplanting these parts of the body is relatively routine. A new heart valve is simply considered plumbing.’

  ‘Exactly!’ Kate said, throwing Sarah a look of gratitude. ‘Sir, let’s say a child presents at a hospital with a deformed face and the hospital agrees to donate its services to repair the deformity as best it can. We’ve all seen the programs on the telly.’ Jack nodded. ‘The enormous expense aside, and the talent required to perform the surgery aside, those sorts of reconstructive procedures usually occur using the patient’s own skin, harvested from different areas of their body.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, his tone filled with query but acknowledging he was following her rationale and wasn’t ready to burn it down — not yet.

  Kate warmed to her subject. ‘I was up most of last night researching this — couldn’t sleep to tell the truth. My interest was triggered because I watched a repeat of Turn Back the Clock. It’s a dreadful show, but it got me thinking about cosmetic surgery and how far it’s come.’

  ‘So what have you discovered?’ Jack wondered.

  ‘That transplanting a face has not yet been achieved successfully at this point but all the research suggests that perhaps even as early as this year — at least by the end of 2005 — it may be possible, might have even been done. There are teams around the world almost competing to be the first.’

  ‘Face transplants?’ Jack said it as though testing the words on his tongue. ‘Like that movie with Travolta?’

  She smiled. ‘Well, not quite like that, sir, but the whole face theoretically can be removed and transplanted onto someone else’s skull.’

  Sarah was frowning. ‘Yes, I’ve read that too. I just didn’t make the same connection, but Kate’s right, transplanting the whole skin of a face, and its mechanisms, is the new frontier for surgeons.’

  Jack stood up. ‘Fucking hell!’

  Kate couldn’t stifle her own excitement. ‘It is plausible, if hard to imagine. Teams all over the planet are in the race. They use cadavers.’

  Jack swung around. ‘And you think our guy is no longer happy practising with the faces of the dead?’

  Kate shrugged. ‘It’s a theory. I’m suggesting he keeps his donor alive so the face remains fresh — for want of a better word.’

  ‘This is terrifying but it seems to sit right in my gut, because why else take off the faces of people we can’t trace?’

  ‘I agree. It sits right with me too, sir,’ Sarah admitted, ‘and I’m happy to pick up from where you’ve left off, Kate, if you want. I can build more information if we need.’

  Kate nodded her thanks. ‘I could use all the help you can provide. You’re our ace researcher. I’m happy to hand it over, especially as we’re interviewing Prof Chan this morning.’

  Jack looked at his watch. Already nearing 0730. Everyone would be rolling in soon. ‘Right. I need to make a couple of calls and we’ve got our translator and our profiler coming in this morning, but I want you to explain to the crew everything we’ve discussed here.’

  Kate nodded. ‘I want to write up these notes into a more logical order and check a few things,’ she said, standing.

  ‘Once again, sterling work. Both of you.’

  The two women stood. ‘Now we just have to find him,’ Kate admitted.

  But Jack already had a theory on that and was several steps ahead of her.

  He was already dialling when Kate said: ‘Come on, Sarah, I’ll get you started on all the stuff I have.’ They left his office.

  The first call he made was to Geoff.

  ‘Do you think it’s funny ringing me this early?’ his friend asked almost gruffly.

  ‘I thought you’d be up and about and off to Scotland.’

  ‘It’s just gone 7.30, are you mad? I’m not even going until tomorrow and that all depends on the snow. I am not a ski bunny, Hawk, I am not going anywhere that is snowbound.’

  ‘And the good lady?’

  ‘Will have to make do with a few days in Cornwall if the weather up north doesn’t improve by tomorrow.’ Jack heard Geoff yawn.

  ‘Why don’t I call you back?’

  ‘Was it urgent?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Give me half an hour; a quick shower should wake me up.’

  ‘Later,’ Jack said.

  Jack lifted a hand to Cam who had just arrived, looking as dishevelled as usual. He needed to make one more call before the onslaught of the day. He dialled and admonished himself for looking forward to hearing her voice.

  ‘Jane Brooks.’

  ‘It’s Jack Hawksworth, Jane. I’m sorry for the early call.’

  ‘Don’t be. I’ve been up for hours.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘In Westminster?’ she asked and he could hear her astonishment.

  ‘No, running myself ragged around Greenwich in the dark.’

  ‘Ah, restless?’

  ‘Disturbed.’

  ‘Perfectly normal. Apart from that, how are you?’

  ‘Delusional, I think. Acting as though this hasn’t happened to me.’

  ‘Again, normal, Jack. Go with it. It’s going to protect you if you are determined to remain on this case.’

  ‘I am.’

  She paused. ‘Was there something we needed to talk about? Change an appointment or …?’

  ‘No. I just wanted to thank you again for your time last night. It … well, it helped, shall we say. It got a few things into perspective.’

  ‘Good, but I’m determined to help you a lot more yet.’

  He smiled. ‘I can’t wait.’ He wished he hadn’t said that and quickly veered away from wherever that might lead. ‘Is your day packed?’

  ‘Steady. I imagine yours is going to be frantic.’

  ‘And unpleasant.’

  ‘Well, you know where to reach me. You can call me any time. Leave a message if you hit voicemail; I promise to call you back the minute I’m free.’

  ‘That’s very generous.’

  ‘Jack, I want you to catch this murdering bastard as much as the next person. Hell, it could be me on that slab! Ah, forgive me; that was insensitive. I was talking as a member of the public, not as your therapist.’

  ‘Don’t apologise. That’s the very reason I’m h
ere. If this killer can take someone like Lily then he could take you or indeed anyone. Everyone is a potential victim but he’s taken someone I cared about deeply. It gives me even more incentive in wanting to find him.’

  ‘Be careful, Jack. Harness that anger. Channel it into being productive.’

  ‘I will, I promise. See you soon.’

  ‘Looking forward to it,’ she said, and he blinked as he heard the phone go dead.

  ‘Sir?’ Kate was back at the doorway. ‘We’re all ready if you are?’

  ‘Absolutely. Let’s start.’

  He followed her out into the main ops room. It was a bleak day across London. The skies were predictably overcast and gloomy. Rain was already threatening. It was nearing 0800.

  ‘Thanks for all being here so early,’ Jack began. ‘There’s been no further development through the night, although I suspect we’ll get back some forensic details today. Joan, I think we have photos coming in this morning?’ She nodded. ‘Good, let’s get the board set up and all the victims and as much as we know about them detailed so everyone can refer to it and add info as it comes in.’

  Kate caught his eye and when he nodded, she began. ‘Just reminding everyone that we have our profiler coming in this morning. And also our translator. He’s not so important for everyone to meet, but it wouldn’t hurt as you may have to call upon him throughout the case.’

  Everyone nodded.

  Jack began. ‘Kate has come up with a compelling theory I’d like her to share and, based on Sarah’s detailed research into the theft of human body parts that are traded on the black market, I’m inclined to give this some oxygen. It’s bizarre and ghoulish but hear it out. Kate?’

  Kate took the floor and repeated all that she’d aired with her boss. ‘… I know this sounds like it’s something out of a sci-fi movie but this technology is real,’ she summarised. ‘It’s not a case of if it’s possible but more likely when it will be achieved,’ she added, before sitting down.

  ‘So do we go with this, chief?’ Cam asked.

  Jack nodded. ‘It’s a plausible theory and it seems to fit all aspects of the case. I think we’ll ask the profiler but at this point, yes, I think it’s certainly something we have to keep firmly in our minds.’

  ‘But that means we’re dealing with a corrupt surgeon,’ Angela clarified.

  Jack nodded. ‘And not just any surgeon but someone who is likely to be specifically involved in facial reconstruction.’

  ‘Well that would narrow down the field,’ Sarah piped up. ‘Around the world you can count those physicians on perhaps three pairs of hands, probably fewer. I’ve just checked. In Britain, there are probably only a very small number of surgeons involved in the field.’

  Jack sighed, glanced at Kate. ‘And it’s probably now that I should let you all know that Ms Wu was considering marrying a prominent London physician, who also happens to be a very senior consultant surgeon to the Oral and Maxillofacial Unit at Royal London Hospital.’

  He expected some sort of outcry. Instead a chilled silence gripped his audience. They stared at him aghast.

  Jack continued, trying not to show any of the anger he was feeling towards Chan. ‘We will have to move carefully, but the coincidence is too strong to ignore. Kate and I will be meeting with Professor James Chan today.’ A murmur finally flickered around the team. He moved on. ‘What else? The doorknock yesterday, what have we got?’

  Dermot looked over at Angela, who smiled and gestured for him to take the floor. ‘Security cameras picked up two men who dumped the van. I’ve got it ready to show, sir,’ he said, pointing to the nearby TV screen.

  ‘Okay, let’s do it,’ Jack said.

  The silent movie whirred into action as Dermot hit the play button. ‘It was late, the time’s up here,’ he said, pointing to the top corner of the screen. ‘They park in Sainsbury’s car park in Whitechapel, get out and walk through the alley which takes them to Whitechapel Road. We can see them on the footage from the HSBC Bank camera and they turn right towards Whitechapel tube and Aldgate East. Now, they appear at the top of Osborne Street where it meets Brick Lane and we follow them to one of the bagel shops. They emerge a minute later and head further down Brick Lane to Shoreditch or Bethnal Green where the cameras lose them.’ Dermot paused the footage.

  ‘Can we trace them?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Yes, sir. One of the PCs at Bethnal Green recognised this one in the Spurs beanie. He’s 26- year-old Denny Johnston. He’s from the Nye Bevan Estate on Roman Road. According to PC Shaw, Denny’s a driver and has served some time in Wormwood Scrubs for stripping stolen vehicles.’

  ‘Violent?’

  Dermot pulled a face to show he wasn’t convinced. ‘Flashes of violence, apparently, but PC Shaw reckons it’s all puff and no substance. Denny’s a coward.’ ‘They probably should take a Trojan unit anyway.

  If Shaw is reading Johnston right, he’ll cave quickly at the sight of armed response. And the other one?’

  ‘Likely to be Alan Barnes, one of Denny’s mates. Barnes is only nineteen. Denny likes to mix with youngsters because it makes him feel like Mr Big. Anyway, Barnes is a casual labourer and known to police, but for really petty stuff. Shoplifting, stealing handbags, that sort of thing. Both will be picked up this morning.’

  ‘Excellent. Very well done.’

  Angela chimed in. ‘We spoke to the bagel shop staff and one woman vaguely remembers them. She couldn’t tell us anything useful though; they just bought some bagels and took off.’

  Jack nodded. ‘Right. I want to talk to this Denny Johnston as soon as we have him.’

  Dermot and Angela nodded. Joan caught Jack’s attention from the doorway.

  ‘Your first appointment,’ she said. ‘It’s the translator. And security’s just let me know your next arrival is early. I’m going down to sign her in.’

  ‘I’ll fetch the translator. You go on, Joan,’ Kate offered as she was closest to the door.

  Jack looked back to the team. ‘Cam, can you and Malik spearhead a thorough canal boat investigation? Grab anyone you need. There are eyes everywhere down there — you just have to find someone who’s willing to talk.’

  They nodded.

  Kate reappeared with a small, podgy man, who smiled broadly at the team and trod lightly across the room on feet clad in very white training shoes that looked as though they’d never been used for anything remotely energetic.

  ‘Everyone, this is Sarju Rahman from NRPSI and he will act as liaison if we need translation in Urdu or Gujarati,’ Kate said as an introduction.

  The team said hello collectively, and Jack moved forward to shake his hand. ‘Hello, Sarju. Welcome. I’m DCI Jack Hawksworth.’

  ‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ Sarju said, an East London inflection layering his Bangladeshi-accented English. He looked around and beamed, polite and eager. ‘I hope I can be of help to you all.’

  Jack smiled at the innocent charm. ‘I think we’ve had you transferred full time for the duration of the case, is that right?’ He looked over at Kate who deferred to DS Karim.

  ‘Yes, hope that’s okay, Sarju? I’m DC Karim. Angela.’ She added in Gujarati, ‘It’s good to have you on board.’

  ‘Ah, who needs me, when you have Angela?’ the little man commented. ‘Or DC Khan.’ His white teeth shone. ‘We worked together some time back, didn’t we?’

  ‘You have a good memory, Sarju,’ Malik replied, also shaking the translator’s hand.

  Sarju beamed again. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Feel free to use me in whatever capacity I can help. I live in Whitechapel and I gather that’s the area of focus?’ He looked around questioningly.

  ‘It is, indeed,’ Kate responded. ‘Sir, we’ll need to leave in about half an hour for RLH.’ She turned back to Sarju. ‘We’re off to interview some of the people at the Oral and Maxillofacial Unit at the RLH.’

  ‘Ah yes, I know it. That’s housed in the Dental Institute, not the main building.’

  Kat
e smiled. ‘That’s good to know.’

  ‘Corner of New Road and Stepney Way,’ Sarju continued. ‘And the entrance is halfway along the building on the New Road side.’ He shrugged. ‘I do a lot of work at the hospital because Whitechapel is so full of Bangladeshi people.’

  ‘Thanks, Sarju,’ Jack said. ‘Make yourself at home. Okay, everyone, we’ve got our profiler coming in any minute. If I have to leave, Cam is your man.’

  On cue, Joan arrived again, this time accompanied by a woman. ‘Dr Lynda Elderidge,’ she announced.

  Once again Jack shook hands. ‘I’m sorry to hurry you, Dr Elderidge, but I’m leaving for an interview in about twenty-five minutes. Can we get you started straight away?’

  ‘Of course, ready when you are,’ she said cheerfully, throwing her overcoat and scarf on a desk, her Australian accent unmistakeable.

  Jack smiled. This case was certainly attracting a cosmopolitan team.

  The profiler pulled a file from her briefcase, as Kate dragged a whiteboard into place.

  ‘What can you tell us about this person?’ Jack prompted.

  Dr Elderidge slipped on a pair of bright red reading glasses that echoed a thread in her immaculate sweater, and the hint of flamboyance amused Jack. To all intents and purposes she looked to be a no-nonsense sort of woman, especially standing next to the fashion-conscious Kate, but he would put money on Dr Elderidge liking fast cars and dangerous travel. There was something about those scarlet glasses and the curiosity glinting in the intelligent eyes behind them.

  ‘Here’s my take so far,’ she began. ‘I believe we’re dealing with a man. He’d be in his early forties at least, I’d suggest.’

  ‘Why?’ It was Angela.

  ‘Our killer has skill, and it’s of a level that isn’t achieved easily — or without many years of training. Removing kidneys is child’s play in comparison to removing someone’s face.’

  Kate glanced at Jack, as if to apologise for the unintended heartlessness of the remark. Dr Brooks’s warning sounded in his mind again. He knew this case was going to get a lot harder for him. He didn’t flinch.