‘And?’ He sipped his coffee.
‘And we’ll bring you in for questioning,’ she finished in a firm tone.
Charles looked at her over the rim of his cup. ‘And there we were discussing arrangements for our first date,’ he said, and she could see he was playing for time, his undeniably quick mind trying to work out how to handle her.
No more nice Kate. ‘We were doing no such thing. Tell me what you meant by that comment.’
She watched him run a hand through his still very blond, thick hair, exquisitely tinted with subtle highlights. It fell neatly back into place, courtesy of a no doubt horribly expensive cut.
‘It will incriminate him but it has no bearing on the case. Will you just trust me?’
She shook her head sadly. ‘It’s my job to trust no one. I have to discover facts. Now either tell me or we stop right here and I phone Scotland Yard and make arrangements to call you in for formal questioning.’
He put up his hands. ‘Okay. Fuck, what a ball-buster you are.’ She waited, staring at him over the untouched cake. ‘All right.’ He shrugged. ‘Jimmy did confide in me that he suspected Lily was seeing someone else.’
‘What evidence did he have?’
Charles shook his head as he sipped his coffee. ‘None that I know of. It was just a feeling he had, I think.’
‘Why did he tell you this?’ She picked up her coffee for something to do so he wouldn’t be able to tell just how interested she was in this ‘inconsequential’ detail.
The doctor laughed. ‘It was odd; even I thought so at the time. He’s a very self-contained man, James Chan. He simply does not discuss his personal life with anyone at the clinic or the unit. But Jimmy and I have known each other such a long time. We were at one of those fund-raising functions. Very tedious and both of us pretty fatigued, I recall, directly off a flight from New York where we’d attended a convention together. We were drinking only lightly to be polite but I imagine the champagne on top of his weariness must have loosened Jimmy’s normal reserve and when I asked him how Lily was — as you do — he admitted that he suspected she had a lover.’ Maartens held up a hand again. ‘That’s all I know.’
Kate sat forward. ‘Well, how did he say it?’
He looked back at her, bemused. ‘How did he say it?’
‘I mean was he angry, bitter, smiling?’
‘No, he wasn’t smiling, Kate. The only way to describe James Chan ever is calm. And that’s how he was when he told me of his suspicion.’
‘What, not upset at all?’ she replied, disbelief lacing her tone.
‘I didn’t say that. I can’t tell you how James was feeling inside. He is a master of keeping his emotions entirely in check. I’m sure you would have noticed even in the brief time you were interviewing him yesterday. James may well have been a mess inside, but outwardly he was matter-of-fact, as he always is.’
‘Did he say anything else?’
‘Well, naturally I pressed him because I was surprised too. But he didn’t strike me as concealing anger. He did say that Lily was young and beautiful so any and every man would be interested in her. He also acknowledged that it was only in his eyes that they were engaged. Lily was yet to accept his proposal of marriage. I didn’t know that until that moment. I’d always thought it had been formalised.’
‘I gather her parents seemed to believe the pair were engaged.’
He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met them. I never met Lily.’
‘What!’
‘I’m serious. I wouldn’t know her if she walked into this room right now. My apologies, that was in poor taste, but you get my drift.’
‘Isn’t that odd?’
‘No,’ he said indignantly. ‘You keep hinting at that. But I don’t introduce my colleagues to women I’m seeing. You’re getting this wrong, Kate. Apart from Professor Chan being the single most private individual I know, you’re making the assumption that we’re one big happy office gang that celebrates birthdays and goes down to the pub together. It doesn’t work that way. These are consulting surgeons, all at the top of their tree. Huge egos, enormous earning potential, each from different backgrounds and with a variety of interests that we don’t share. All we have in common is that we work at the Royal London Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery Unit doing pretty amazing, cutting-edge work for unfortunate people who need our help. We barely know where each other lives, let alone wives’ names and how many children so and so has. I know that probably sounds curious to an outsider, but frankly I’m not interested in my colleagues’ golf handicaps or favourite holiday destinations … neither is Jimmy, nor are any of these highly respected, incredibly busy people. Now with Jimmy and I being friends and fellow directors of Elysium, naturally we know a fraction more about each other. But don’t go thinking we’re all having a knees-up each weekend.’
‘I understand. But the fact that you are friends suggests you might at least know or have met his fiancée.’
‘No, I told you, we don’t socialise other than when professional circumstances demand it. Jimmy’s a Hong Kong Chinese who might speak Cantonese at home and like to wear stilettos for all I know. I’m from Africa but collect rare medieval Russian icons or maybe it’s Hungarian stamps, for all he knows. What do you honestly think we have in common?’ He was angry, she could tell, but he hadn’t raised his voice and his tone had remained friendly. But in his eyes she could see the passion and knew this was likely not the first time Dr Charles Maartens had been accused of being strange for knowing so little about his colleagues — and they him, presumably. ‘I knew of Lily, that’s it. Jimmy had kept her to himself for some time. In fact, now I come to think of it, it’s only relatively recently that he admitted he was thinking of getting married.’
‘Did Professor Chan have any idea of who Lily might have been seeing?’ Kate asked, holding her breath.
He looked baffled. ‘Ask him.’
‘Didn’t you?’ He shook his head. ‘No, I learned very early never to pry where Jimmy’s concerned. He tells me only what he wants in his own good time, and besides, it was personal …’ he shrugged, ‘irrelevant in other words. If it’s to do with patients, the unit, the clinic, surgical procedures, new products, breakthroughs, whatever … then it’s relevant. Our personal lives are not.’
She nodded, imagining the phone call she’d be making shortly to her boss and what he was going to say.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Maartens continued. ‘Now Jimmy has a motive. And he’s a face surgeon so just to punish his two-timing fiancée he whips off her face … blah, blah, blah.’
She stared back at the doctor momentarily before deliberately switching topics. ‘Are you aware that Lily Wu came from Hadley Wood?’
He frowned, confused momentarily by her change in tack. ‘No. I think I was under the impression that she lived in the Shoreditch area.’
‘It’s true she did. But her family home is in your neighbourhood.’
‘Six degrees of separation,’ he said, looking unimpressed. ‘I had no idea. Oh, wait, let me guess, the gaudy palace with the huge fountain and a dragon as a centrepiece? And if my memory serves me right there are two enormous Chinese-style vases either side of the oversized front door with its fake stained glass.’
She shrugged, amused that he’d let his guard down and revealed his prejudices, or perhaps his snooty upbringing. ‘I haven’t been to the house,’ she admitted. She drained her latte glass. ‘Tell me, how is Professor Chan taking the news that his fiancée was butchered by the killer?’
His gaze narrowed. ‘Stoically. I’m sure you noticed that yesterday.’
‘Do you find that curious?’
He shook his head. ‘Not when you know Jimmy as well as I do. He’s a difficult fellow, very complex but very strong too. It doesn’t mean he’s not hurting — he just won’t show it.’
‘Is he capable of violence?’
His light eyes regarded her. ‘Aren’t we all?’
She shook h
er head. ‘I don’t think so.’ She stabbed her fork into the cake and cut off a tiny piece to be polite. ‘Why isn’t he angry about Ms Wu’s demise?’ She put the gooey morsel into her mouth. It was scrumptious, as she had feared it would be. Now she’d have to have another mouthful.
‘Knowing Jim … James as I do, I can assure you he is. He just doesn’t display it.’
She lingered over another forkful of cake. ‘You’re right, this cake is to die for.’ He nodded, attacking his own slice. ‘I recognise the lake from the TV program,’ she remarked. It was time to lighten the conversation, to get away from Dr Maartens and have a snoop around alone.
‘It’s good publicity.’
‘I’ve never seen you on the show.’
He shook his head. ‘Not my bag.’
Kate suspected he was lying. Somehow appearing on prime-time television struck her as being every inch Dr Charles Maartens’s bag. ‘Oh, I would have thought you more suitable … you know, more affable.’
He laughed, swallowing and wiping his lips with the cloth napkin that Sharon had brought with the cake. ‘Yes, I think I know what you mean, but it was Jimmy’s idea.’
‘The program?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. In fact I think he funded the pilot, worked out the structure of the show; the whole concept was his from the outset.’
‘But surely even he can see he’s not the ideal TV personality.’
Charles laughed loudly. ‘Yes, I think he’s well aware of his shortcomings as a television presenter, but that’s the host’s job anyway and Samantha does a great job. Jimmy’s brilliant at what he does and between all the talented people here we do some fine work on those sad people who agree to go on that mad show.’
‘Surely you would be more suitable … less scary? He never smiles.’
‘No, he doesn’t. But honestly, Kate, no one wants a buffoon in charge of redesigning their face. You want Jimmy. Or me, perhaps,’ he said with a fresh beam. ‘But I don’t want to be on television. I think you’ve got me worked out wrong.’
She didn’t think so, but left it alone. It wasn’t important.
‘Have we finished here?’ he asked, glancing at his watch. ‘I have a procedure in about ninety minutes and there’s some prepping to do.’
‘One final question, Charles.’
‘Fire away.’
‘Face transplants.’ His gaze narrowed. She feigned a smile. ‘Is it fantasy?’
‘Not at all. In fact I imagine we’ll be doing partial facial transplants within the next year or so. The know-how and skill are almost there. Full facial transplants?’ He shrugged. ‘Is that what you think this is about?’
‘You tell me. Four victims, each with their face removed.’
‘Disguising their identity, I would have thought,’ he said, frowning.
‘Three were illegals. They had no traceable identity — I’m sure the killer knew that.’
He looked at her, baffled. ‘I can’t think like a killer for you, Kate. By all means use my expertise as a surgeon but why someone is slicing off faces I have no idea.’
‘So they would be of no use to anyone?’
‘Were they simply hacked off?’
‘According to the pathologist it was a professional job.’
He blew out his cheeks as he considered her question. ‘You know, what you’re alluding to is not a straightforward situation of cut off a face and plonk it onto someone else. Sew it on and bingo. That’s the stuff of Frankenstein or B-grade horror movies.’
‘I realise that,’ she said.
He shook his head in frustration. ‘I don’t think you do. To perform the surgery required simply to remove the flap of skin from the skull, well, we’re talking maybe ten hours. Kate, there’s nothing straightforward about this. The killer would have to preserve blood vessels, nerves, muscle, possibly bone, and remove it all with such care that it leaves him lots of length on those vessels, for instance, for nice reconnections. And then another six, maybe seven, hours of surgery following that.’
It sounded daunting. ‘How much help would he need?’
‘Help? You mean assistants for the operation?’ She nodded. ‘Several. Five, six maybe. At the unit we have a team of up to a dozen working on one patient. He’d need to be awfully confident, very competent. And then there’s the biggest question of all … why?’ He scoffed. ‘It’s ludicrous to suggest any murderer could work like that.’
Kate decided to wrap things up. ‘Well, Charles, you’ve been incredibly helpful. Thank you for your time, the tour, the coffee — and the delicious cake.’
‘I wish I could do more. Do you want to have some time to wander?’
‘Thank you, I will.’
‘Let me walk you back to reception and you can go from there.’
‘Great.’ Maartens helped Kate back into her coat and as he did so, his hand brushed her cheek as he lifted her hair so her coat slipped on without trapping it inside.
She blushed. ‘Oh, thank you, very gallant.’
He gave a small shrug as though it was the most natural action any man might take. ‘Thanks, Sharon,’ he called lifting a hand in farewell and she waved from the kitchen.
Kate could still feel his touch on her skin. Had it been deliberate? She felt sure it had been. Everything about Dr Maartens felt controlled, orchestrated.
‘I can’t believe how quiet it is,’ he commented, staring far too deeply into her eyes for a formal meeting.
Kate reached for something light-hearted to say, to drag herself away from his gaze. ‘Damn, I was hoping to see Kate Moss or Angelina Jolie with bandages all over their faces.’
He laughed. ‘Not today.’ They stepped outside and a frosty breeze whipped their faces. ‘Wow, it’s colder than this morning and here comes the rain.’
Kate shivered, squinting through the drizzle. ‘What are those buildings over there?’ she asked, pointing.
‘Outbuildings, with quaint names like “The Stables” and “The Buttery”. I think they’re only used for storage now. Did you want me to organise keys? You could walk over there,’ he offered, ‘although the rain —’
‘No, that’s fine.’
‘They’re used mainly to stow extra beds and furniture, I believe. We store all the drugs inside the main building, of course, and in safes as well.’
She nodded, and they began to hurry as the rain came down harder. They exploded through the doors of the main building.
‘Sorry about that. Dreadful timing.’ Dr Maartens smiled and held out a hand. ‘Well, it’s been a pleasure. I hope you’ll allow me to keep my promise some time.’
She didn’t need to ask what he was referring to. ‘Thank you, again.’ They shook hands and both lingered in their grip.
Finally he moved his hands in a wide arc. ‘It’s all yours. Feel free.’ She nodded. ‘Bye, Kate.’ And he left her standing on the exquisite black-and-white floor.
20.
Sarah’s morning had been office-bound but productive. She now had a lot of background research in place should the team need information on anything from illegal immigrants to organ transplants. DCI Hawsksworth had called to say he was following up a lead from the Lea Rowing Club and was on his way to talk with a family at Spring Hill. She’d listened quietly as he briefed her.
‘Sir, that sounds like we need to bring in an FLO.’
Jack had sighed. ‘Family Liaison Officers take time to organise and even longer to set up an appointment. Add another day or so to find a male FLO familiar with Jewish custom! I know the drill, Sarah, but if I don’t strike now this trail will go cold. The boy is already unnerved by telling me as much as he has and once he’s in the family home, with his parents probably glowering at him for speaking out of turn — or at least without their sanction — I imagine he’ll just clam up. I don’t want anyone to have the opportunity to school him on what to say or how to say it.’
‘I understand, sir, but —’
‘Sarah, I know you do things by the rule book. It
’s one of the reasons we love you.’ She had bitten her lip at this. ‘But I can’t follow protocol strictly on this occasion and it’s my call, my arse, okay? You are not incriminated.’
‘I don’t care about that.’
‘Yes, you do. I know how you work and I know you care very much about doing things the right way. Tell you what. I’ll give the family the opportunity to have an FLO present. It will be their choice. Or we can have an informal chat at the front door if necessary. This boy is not in any trouble and I doubt the family is involved. All I want is information on this ginger-haired git.’
She considered silently, frowning. ‘Okay, sir. That’s fair,’ she finally agreed.
‘Thank you.’ Jack struggled to keep a faint touch of sarcasm from his voice. ‘I’ll be back in the office as soon as I’ve been to Lingwood Road. I’ll keep the mobile on in case you need me. Has Mal been in touch?’
‘Yes, they’re on their way back now. Cam and Angela were held up. Damage to a substation meant power blackouts in Whitechapel — in fact the whole region’s been knocked out, sir.’
‘Let me guess, Morrisons?’
‘Yes, sir, I think the building teams have cut through some live cables. Cam was hopeful they’d be able to interview Johnston by mid-afternoon.’
‘That means they’ll have to go over to Limehouse.’
‘Why, sir?’
‘Bethnal Green will have lost power, which means they’d move anyone in custody to the next closest station that is fully operational.’
‘Of course.
‘Well, that really slows things up but so long as they speak to Johnston, that’s all that counts. What news from Kate?’
‘Nothing as yet, sir. But she’ll phone in soon, I imagine.’
‘Okay, tell her to drive carefully. She goes too fast when she’s excited.’
Sarah giggled. ‘I know. But she won’t let anyone else drive.’
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