by Tim Ellis
Quigg shook Grimaldi's hand. 'We are. I'm Detective Inspector Quigg.' He indicated Rummage. 'And this is my partner Detective Constable Rummage.'
Grimaldi and Rummage shook hands. 'How can I help?'
'Now that you've sent Mitch away, you could show us where the bodies are buried.'
'Where would be the fun in that? I'm sure it wouldn't be worth being a detective if everybody confessed right away.'
'I suppose not. Well, you could tell us what you know about the dead body inside George Washington?'
'Before I do, let me explain what we do here. Once I do, you'll understand that it is an impossibility.'
'And yet, there is a dead body inside George Washington.'
'I know. It doesn't make any sense whatsoever.'
'You'll be brief?'
'Of course.'
'Go on then.'
'If the celebrities are still alive, we arrange for a sitting at which we take specific measurements and photographs of the head and body, and hair samples. We collect as much information about the celebrity as possible, and we use a palette of colours for mimicking the tones of each individual's face. We begin by constructing a metal armature, which acts as a skeleton to support the figure. This is used to anatomically ensure that every bone and muscle is correctly replicated.'
'You don't scrimp on the body then? I mean, it's going to be covered by clothing, so no one would be any the wiser if you simply pretended, would they?'
'No, we don't scrimp on anything, Inspector. It takes the whole team about four months to make a figure and each one costs in the region of a hundred and fifty thousand pounds.'
'A hundred and fifty thousand pounds!'
'Yes.'
He turned to Rummage. 'There goes our chance of being immortalised in wax, Rummage.'
'I don't think I'd like it. And why would anybody want to come and see you?'
'Did you not know I was famous?'
'In your own head.'
'You can be so cruel, Rummage.'
Grimaldi continued. 'The clay head and body are then sculpted by hand using the measurements and photographs that were collected during the sitting. It can take up to six weeks to sculpt a head. We then create a silicone negative mould, which is supported by a fibreglass shell divided into sections. A special formula of wax is melted and then poured into the silicone head mould. The wax is left to cool inside the mould for a few hours leaving a hollow wax cast, which is carefully cleaned up and any imperfections filled.'
'Ah! So, the head isn't actually made out of clay – it's wax?'
'That's right. We then focus on creating a mould for the body, which takes around a hundred and seventy hours. This is then cast in alginate and plaster. Sometimes, the body is lifecast directly from an appropriate model using plaster. Whichever method is used, the finished body is then cast into fibreglass. It has to be tough and durable to support the fragile wax head. The typical weight of a whole figure can be around twenty-five kilograms.'
'What's that in old money?'
'About three stone.'
'Not that heavy then?'
'No.'
'So, the clay body or model are simply used to make a mould?'
'Yes.'
'Which means that the body on the finished figure is actually hollow?'
'That's right.'
'Not filled with a dead body?'
'No.'
'Okay.'
'Each strand of real hair is then individually inserted by hand over a period of four weeks, which includes eyebrows and any additional features such as a moustache or beard. When the hair insertion is complete, it is washed, cut and styled.'
'Painstaking work?'
'Yes, it is. It then takes around fifty hours and twenty different oil paints to colour a head and build up layers that give authentic texture to the face and recreate lifelike skin tones. Any tattoos, freckles or distinctive marks are then hand-painted on. Many celebrities will be generous enough to donate their own clothes for their wax figure to use. When outfits can't be donated, extensive research is carried out to design and create an outfit which is historically accurate and authentic in style.'
'So, when you were dressing the figure, you'd notice that the body wasn't fibreglass?'
'Yes. A naked dead body would be fairly obvious. There's also a considerable weight difference between a hollow fibreglass body and a dead body.'
'Mmmm!'
'The eyes are then individually made from acrylic resin, with every tiny detail duplicated. It takes an hour and a half to make a pair of eyes and no two pairs will ever be the same. When possible, a dental cast will also be taken, which replicates each tooth using acrylic. Overall this process takes about thirty hours. The head and hands are then fitted to the fibreglass body and the figure is then dressed.'
'The hands aren't fibreglass?'
'No. What the public see is sculpted from wax.'
'So, in a way, you do scrimp on the body?'
'It's not scrimping, Inspector. A clay or wax body would be easily damaged when the clothes were put on, so casting it in fibreglass is a practical decision.'
'Yes, I understand that, but . . .'
'After everything has been completed and I've signed off on the figure, it is taken to a photography studio to be photographed for advertising purposes. Once the figure is on display in the waxworks, it is maintained and inspected every week. The hair is washed and the make-up on the head and hands is retouched regularly. I checked the schedule when I arrived this morning. Philip touched George up on Wednesday last week, and his hair was washed by Chantal two months ago on October 24. Let me introduce you to my team, and as we walk round you can ask them questions at your leisure.'
Quigg nodded. 'That sounds good to me.'
'We all collaborate on the construction of a figure,' Yvette said as she walked them from table to table and introduced them to sculptors Philip Lee and Danny Hartley; hair and colouring artist Chantal Barwick; mould-maker Camille Hare; metal-worker Scott Williams; and Melissa Mathews who was responsible for the wardrobe.
'Yvette said you touched up George Washington last Wednesday, Philip?' Quigg said.
'That's right.'
He raised an eyebrow. 'And?'
'And nothing. I inspect and touch him up weekly. It was the same old George.'
'The forensic pathologist said that the body had been hiding under George for at least five years. Also, the wax that George has been sculpted from is not beeswax, but wax made from human remains.'
'I have no answers, Inspector. As far as I'm concerned, the George you're describing is not the George I inspected and touched up last Wednesday.'
'Would you have noticed that the wax covering the body was not beeswax?'
'Well, I obviously didn't, did I?'
'No.'
'You have to understand that there are layers of oil paints covering the wax, so I probably wouldn't have noticed it wasn't beeswax anyway.'
'That's true.'
They moved on to Chantal Barwick. 'You washed George's hair two months ago, Chantal?' Quigg said.
'Yes. October 24.'
'You didn't happen to notice a dead body anywhere in the vicinity, did you?'
'No. I think I would have noticed something like that.'
His phone vibrated.
It was an unknown number. 'Excuse me,' he said, and moved away to answer the call. 'Quigg.'
'It's Justine Chevalier from the Chiswick Camera.'
'This is not the press office, Miss Chevalier. Why are you calling me?'
'I hear there's a dead body in the waxworks?'
'I can't help it if you're hearing voices.'
'I want an exclusive.'
'As I recall, I gave you an exclusive for the information you provided for my last case concerning the sex cult. Do you have any useful information about a body in the waxworks to convince me I should provide you with an exclusive now?'
'No, but I have evidence of police misconduct.'
'I'm not investigating police misconduct.'
'I know, but I could run a story on how you provided me with an exclusive on the sex cult.'
'It'll be your word against mine.'
'Except I have our agreement on tape.'
What! The bitch had recorded him. Ruth had said: "No scandal, Quigg. I have to be whiter than white." Lucy was sanitising his online reputation. Now, this reporter was trying to blackmail him. Maybe he needed to let Lucy the assassin loose. 'The more I give you, the deeper I sink, Miss Chevalier. Agreeing to the demands of blackmailers is never a good idea.'
'One more exclusive and that will be it.'
'And I'm expected to take a blackmailer's word for that, am I?'
'You can trust me, I'm a reporter.'
'Clearly not.'
'We never reveal our sources. Meet me for lunch and I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement? My treat.'
'As you seem to be familiar with my movements, you should be well aware that I'm up to my neck in a murder investigation, so I can't do lunch.'
'Come to my apartment this evening then?'
What choice did he have? If she went public with the exclusive he'd given her, the Chief would point Professional Standards in his direction and Ruth's job would be in jeopardy. 'When and where?'
'Six-thirty at 14 Ashbourne Grove in Chiswick.'
Chiswick wasn't so far out of his way. 'I'll be there.'
He ended the call.
'Who was that?' Rummage asked when he re-joined the group.
'The Prime Minister. She wanted me to tell you that she's pleased with the job you're doing so far.'
'That's very kind of her.'
'That's the type of person she is. Right, where were we?'
***
'Come.'
She opened the door and walked into Sir Charles Rowan's office – the Metropolitan Police Commissioner.
'Ah, Ruth. It's good to see you. Take a seat. Can I get you a coffee?'
'No thank you, Sir.'
He joined her and sat in an easy chair around the mahogany coffee table. 'You fired DCI Dixon?'
'I did.'
'You could have run it past me first. Now I have the problem of what to do with him.'
'He was undermining me.'
'You've made an enemy.'
'A reporter is used to having enemies.'
'DCI Dixon wouldn't be my enemy of choice.'
'You said that you had personally vetted all the people on the team . . .?'
'That's right.'
'I had the feeling he was sabotaging our efforts. He is a DCI and not a stupid man. He is used to running teams, but this team was not well-run.'
'In what way?'
'They lacked discipline. Also, he was duplicating what the IOPC were already doing by focusing on the foot soldiers. I explained that we were not interested in those people. The DCI seemed to find it hard to understand that, so I fired him. Now, I have said to the team that we need to cut off the many heads of this monster. The criminal enterprise was not being run from within the police force. It was, and still is, being orchestrated from outside. The foot soldiers can easily be replaced. Soon, unless we take down the leaders, it will be as if we had not made a difference. The criminal enterprise will continue, only the foot soldiers will change.'
'You're going after the Board of Directors and the European Investors?'
'Yes.'
'I'll be surprised if you find anything that sticks. From what you've already discovered, they've set things up so that nothing leads back to them.'
'So we give up, is that what you're saying? It's exactly the reason why we need to go after them.'
'I'm not saying we give up, but maybe DCI Dixon was right. Maybe we need to strangle their supply of foot soldiers. The DCI will come after you.'
'I know.'
'I could appoint a couple of close protection officers . . .?'
'For the Director of Communications?'
'Mmmm! Yes, people would want to know why.'
'I'll be careful.' The Commissioner's suggestion had given her an idea though.
'Make sure you are, Ruth. Keep everything in-house and low-key.'
'I will. I've split the team up into pairs and allocated them four people each to investigate. We're meeting again on Wednesday morning to review progress.'
'Come and see me afterwards and let me know how things are going.'
'Of course. Was there anything else?'
'No.'
She made her way out of his office and walked along the corridor to her own office. Jack Neilson and Lucy had done good work, but it was far from finished. Sir Charles had used the missing police officers and the confessions as leverage to force her to work for him and prevent her from bringing him and the government down. But playing nicely wasn't going to work. Yes, she had a covert team, but what could they do? It would take years to investigate the Board of Directors and the European Investors, and then there was no guarantee that anything would change even if she could find evidence linking them to the criminal enterprise and bring them to justice. As things stood, she had her hands tied behind her back, because the law protected both the innocent and the guilty.
She called Lucy.
'I'm sleeping.'
'At this time of day?'
'Any time of day is a good time to sleep.'
'We have unfinished police corruption.'
'That's why you were given your new fancy, highfalutin well-paid Director of Communications job, isn't it?'
'That is not a problem, but the corruption will continue. I need help.'
'Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Quigg just tell me that you wanted to be whiter than white? That there should be no hint of any dirty laundry, immorality, double-dealing, filth . . .'
'That is right, but I also want to stay alive. You and Jack need to work with me to finish what we started. The Board of Directors and the European Investors are still out there pulling all the strings. Unless we bring them down, nothing will change. All your work will have been for nothing.'
'I'm busy, but I'll see what Jack is doing.'
'I thought you said you were sleeping?'
'When I'm not sleeping, I'm busy.'
'Doing what?'
'Someone's after Quigg.'
'What do you mean?'
'I'll explain later. In the meantime, I'll contact Jack for you.'
'Thank you.'
The line went dead.
She was sure she was doing the right thing. Without Jack and Lucy's help they would get nowhere. Nothing would change. The corruption would simply continue.
Her phone vibrated.
'Hello.'
'It's Jack. I believe you need my help?'
'We need to finish what we started.'
'Isn't that why you're at New Scotland Yard?'
'I thought I could make a difference by working from the inside, but I am required to follow the law. If I stay within the lines, I will get nowhere. The Board of Directors and the European Investors are untouchable in any normal sense. Now that I am here, they think we will follow the law and have erected their defences accordingly. I am reminded of the tale of Perseus and Medusa, and how he could only cut off the Gorgon's head and prevent her from turning him to stone by looking at her through the reflection in his polished shield. We need to be smarter than they think we are.'
'Yes, but as I recall didn't each drop of Medusa's blood become a snake?'
'We will have to make sure we don't spill any blood, Jack.'
'Do you have a driver?'
'Only when I need to go somewhere.'
'You have a new driver now. Not me, but someone I know. His name is Spud. He'll keep you safe. He used to be a close protection officer for royalty and other high-ranking officials. When you need to go anywhere, including to and from work, call this number.'
He gave her a mobile number.
'Thank you Jack.'
'I'll be in contact.'
Chapter
Five
The three of them watched the video recording of the séance on the television.
It began with the lights were dimmed in the front room.
The eight people who were seated around the table placed their hands flat on the surface, with the little fingers of each hand touching the little fingers of the hands of the people on either side of them.
To the left of Rita was Amy Lohman MP; and then Laura Farrell; Estelle Adams; Lord Albert Wolff; Howard Alexander; Sir Aaron Reid; and Joanna Patterson.
Duffy had heard some of the names before, but she didn't really know any of the people. None of them looked familiar.
Everything was set up for the séance as Rita had said – the clear glass bowl of olive oil and blood; two lit candles; the open bible with the piece of quartz sitting on it; a white lily in a small vase; and behind Rita – on the mantlepiece – sat a small silver bell, a steel knife, a small jar of rock salt and an old Victorian clock.
Rita began by saying a prayer. We pray for protection from beings that would do us harm. We ask God that only good spirits be allowed in our circle tonight.
Rita then said, Our beloved Paul – the brother of Amy – commune with us, Paul. Move among us;
The gathering waited patiently for something to happen.
Rita repeated. We welcome any good spirits who are near us to join our circle. Please make your presence known. We are reaching out to our beloved Paul – the brother of Amy – commune with us, Paul. Please join us in our circle tonight and move among us when you're ready.
They waited, but there was no response for some time. Rita continued to repeat what she'd said. Then, without warning, her eyes went white, the pupils disappeared and the eyes looked like frosted marble.
Hello, Amy. Rita was speaking, but the voice was hoarse. Why have you woken me from my resting place?