by Tim Ellis
'What about food?'
'I eat the scraps off tables in the cafes.'
'I'm flabbergasted, Rummage. Why didn't you speak to me?'
'And say what? I'm a homeless drug addict who's been buying Fentanyl off dealers, and they're now after me because I owe them twenty thousand pounds plus interest?'
'Right, here's what I want you to do. Swap trains and start travelling back. I'll pick you up outside Hammersmith train station in an hour and a half. Do you want me to bring you a doner kebab and a coke?'
She began crying.
'I'll take that as a yes. So, seven o'clock outside the station.'
'All right, Sir . . . And thank you.'
'You're my partner, Rummage. I've got your back.'
He ended the call and carried on eating, although the steak had lost its allure; his appetite had diminished to the point of no return; and any thoughts of the meal being romantic had disappeared when Duffy passed him the notebook.
'I take it you found out what was wrong with your partner?' Duffy said.
'She's living at Heathrow Airport.'
Duffy laughed. 'Like the man in the film Terminal?'
'No. She's been evicted from her apartment, because she has no money.'
'But . . .'
She spends her wages on painkillers and owes drug dealers twenty thousand pounds plus interest.'
'What's wrong with her?'
'Physically – nothing now, apart from her being addicted to opiates.'
'If they find out . . .'
'Which they will unless I help her.'
'What can you do?'
'I have a plan.' He finished the steak and chips and swallowed the last of his shandy. 'Well, I think this romantic meal with just the two of us has been a bit of a disaster, Duffy. Maybe next time. Shall I pay?'
'I think so.'
They made their way out to the car, stopped off at the kebab shop, bought three kebabs and three cans of coke, and then drove home.
Neither noticed the taxi following them.
Chapter Twenty-One
'Lucy?'
It was Quigg.
'Go away, Quigg.'
'I have kebabs and coke.'
'Come in, Quigg.'
He came in carrying the food in a large brown paper bag.
'Hello!' he directed at Ramona Relish. 'And who might you be?'
'Never mind who she is. Thanks for the food. You can go now.'
'I've been suspended.'
'It was only a matter of time.'
'Are you not interested in why I've been suspended?'
'Nope,' she said, tunnelling into the huge quantity of wrapping paper and polystyrene.
'Because while you were at the seaside eating ice cream and sunbathing, pornographic videos featuring me, and extremist posts under my name were spreading all over the internet.'
'Ah!'
'You were meant to be my last line of defence, you were meant to protect my honour and reputation, you were meant to . . .'
'All right! I think we get the idea.'
'What happened? Where were you?'
'I was otherwise engaged.'
'And in the meantime, while you were out having a good time, the Chief saw everything and suspended me. I'm no longer a police officer; my case in the waxworks has been given to DI Singh who couldn't find his arse with both hands; and Professional Standards are going to investigate me . . . God knows what they'll uncover.'
'I have an idea,' she said. 'Leave it with me.'
'I hope I can leave it with you this time, Lucy Fifi.'
'Well, you won't care if you're no longer alive, will you? I've never had a middle name, so don't start using one now. As I said, leave it with me. I think you'll find you receive a call from the Chief first thing in the morning asking you to return to work as soon as possible.'
'I'll leave it with you then, Fifi.'
She threw a shoe after him as he hurried out, but it clattered against the door.
'He seems nice,' Ramona said. 'Why didn't you tell him what really happened to you?'
'He would have become all sloppy and wanted sex with me.'
'I wouldn't have minded waiting outside.'
'He would have wanted sex with you as well.'
'I wouldn't have minded that either.'
'I'm sure, but as you yourself have suggested, I should be recuperating. My chest hurts, my arm hurts, my hand hurts, my crotch hurts, and I've got a stinking headache as well. So wild sex with Quigg is not high on my list of priorities at the moment.'
'What about gentle sex with a woman?'
'That sounds about my limit.'
'I haven't had sex with a man for five years.'
Lucy's eyes opened wide. 'Jesus! Has it healed up?'
'You can check while you're down there.'
'It's the least I can do. But first, let's eat.'
After wolfing down the kebabs and coke, they stripped off and went into the shower. Nurse Relish used her healing hands and tongue to ease her aches and pains; and then Lucy returned the favour.
She logged into the computer system. 'You don't mind if I save Quigg's career, do you?'
'Not at all. Is he a porn star as well as a police officer?'
'He'd like to think so, but he lacks the physical attributes. Oh! Don't get me wrong. He does a half-decent job with what he's got, but he'll never be Donkey Kong. Mind you, if you want babies, he's your man. I'm sure his sperm have been genetically modified. So, if he wants to shag you, make sure you're protected, or he is. You've been warned.'
'I think I'll lie down and have a sleep, if that's all right with you?'
'Go for it. I'll join you in a bit.'
'Okay.'
She checked the integrity of her system. The back-up from cloud storage had replaced everything as it was meant to, and there wasn't any hidden bots, Trojans or spyware lurking to cripple her system again. Now for some fun. After finding a porn site and downloading a number of suitable videos, she modified them accordingly. It took her just short of three hours to turn Chief Superintendent Walter Belmarsh and Metropolitan Police Commissioner Sir Charles Rowan into dirty old men. Belmarsh had a thing for young women dressed as French maids, while Sir Charles liked to dress in a tutu and punish bound young men. Next, she scooped up a hundred extreme tweets and posts, changed the author's names and re-sent them out. They would soon see that Quigg was a victim of a malicious hate campaign and re-instate him.
Her email was clogged up. She spotted one from Li Xue, opened it and found an encrypted file, which she decrypted.
Hi Lucy,
I wrote a domino program that located every bank account belonging to the enterprise and emptied them one after another by initiating a conversion of everything in the accounts into Bitcoin, transferring the amounts into a blockchain wallet, and then converting the proceeds back into real money and depositing the amounts into a thousand accounts across the world. The enterprise is broke, and it would take them years to recover their money. Not only that, I went after all the companies where the Board of Directors and European Investors work or own and cleared them out as well. We're talking billions of pounds. I think this is probably the largest theft in the world.
Li
She clicked on the link, ran a checksum and found a total of ninety-seven billion pounds, which she converted into US dollars. It returned an amount of 121,638,000,000. She kept the 638 million for expenses and sent it to the slush fund she maintained. Then, she sent ten billion anonymously to each of the following charities:
Save the Children;
International Rescue Committee;
Partners in Health;
United Nations Foundation;
Direct Relief;
Médecins Sans Frontières International;
Oxfam;
UNICEF;
Compassion International;
Samaritan's Purse.
The other 21 billion she distributed equally between the following international women's c
harities: Women's Global Empowerment Fund; Centre for Reproductive Rights; Women for Women International; School Girls Unite; Time's Up Legal Defence Fund; Every Mother Counts; Equality Now; Orchid Project; Anita B. Org; Friendship Bridge; Pathfinder International; Global Fund for Women; Share & Care Foundation; and MADRE.
The money was gone. Li was right – the enterprise was broke and no longer existed. However, there was still the issue of the Chairman and the Shadow Board. And what did the password "Vulture77" provide access to?
All of a sudden, she felt wiped out, so she shut everything down and crawled into bed with Ramona.
***
Quigg went to drive his car out of the compound, but as he did so he saw a taxi idling along the road with a man sitting in the back seat.
He took the car out of gear, put the handbrake on and waited, but the taxi didn't pull away, nor did anybody arrive and climb into the taxi, so he called Duffy.
'Hello, Sir.'
'You've still got the six notebooks, haven't you?'
'Yes.'
'Bring them out in the plastic bag. I'm sitting in my car at the gate.'
'Can't you come in for them, I'm naked?'
'That's a very tempting offer, but you know I have work to do. I don't mind if you bring them to me with no clothes on though.'
'Just a minute.'
The line went dead.
A couple of minutes later, Duffy appeared in a dressing gown with the plastic bag and passed it to him through the window.
'Decided it was a bit cold to prance around naked? Listen, don't look, but there's a taxi idling up the road.'
'I see it.'
'Call me and tell me what it does after I leave.'
'Do you expect me to stand out here waiting for a taxi to move. It could be there for ages and it's freezing. I'm naked under this, you know.'
'Stop torturing me, Duffy. Just shut the electronic gate, watch it through the gap and call me.'
'Okay.'
'See you later, Duffy.'
'Good luck, Sir.'
He pulled out through the open gates, turned left and headed towards Hammersmith train station.
His phone vibrated.
'Yes?'
'It's Duffy, Sir. The taxi went up to the end of the road, turned round and followed you.'
'As I expected. Thanks, Duffy. See you when I see you.'
'Okay.'
He ended the call.
It couldn't be a coincidence. Duffy was obviously followed by Keller from the woman's house to the restaurant, and then from there he must have jumped into a taxi and followed them home. He wanted the notebooks, they were evidence that linked him to thirty-five murders over six years. Without them, what did anybody have? In the notebooks, he'd even described in detail where he'd disposed of the bodies.
Rummage was waiting for him outside the station.
He beeped.
She hurried to the car, climbed in and put on the seatbelt.
'Are you salivating?'
'You bet. Did you bring the kebab?'
He reached behind her seat, grabbed the paper bag and passed it to her. 'Enjoy.'
While she was attacking the food, he keyed 23 Odger Street in Battersea into the satnav, and then pulled out into traffic. The lady on the satnav directed him along the most direct route over Putney Bridge and onto Armoury Way. It was usually a twenty minute journey, but during the evening rush hour the lady on the satnav estimated it was going to take him forty minutes.
'How are you feeling, Rummage?'
'Mmmm! This kebab is good.'
'You know we're going to have to do something about your addiction, don't you?'
She stopped eating. 'What?'
'Well, it's an addiction, isn't it? If you could have stopped on your own, you would have done. Especially as you've lost your apartment, your money, your self-respect and are now in danger of losing your career as well.'
'If I go into rehab, it'll get back to the Chief.'
'Which is why you're not going into a government-approved rehabilitation facility.'
'Oh?'
'I have somewhere else in mind. What it'll mean is that you'll be on leave for the next three weeks.'
'The Chief won't approve a leave of absence in the middle of an investigation.'
'No, but I will.'
'You're suspended.'
'I've been assured by someone who knows about these things that my suspension will be rescinded first thing in the morning. Have you seen the videos?'
'Yes.'
'And?'
'Does it pay well?'
'I'm sure with all those body tattoos you'd be a hit if you ever did put yourself out there, Rummage.'
'Very kind of you to say so.'
'It's not me in the videos though.'
'Some of the women at the station think it could be.'
'They wouldn't know.'
'Oh! That weird-looking clerical assistant called Mandy asked me to tell you that you were number five.'
'Number five?'
'Yes. What did she mean?'
'No idea.' Number five on the Inspectors' Chart. It was a shame that it wasn't him in the videos, the actor was certainly impressive. Number five! That was the highest he'd ever been.
He called Jack.
'You don't often call me, Quigg.'
'I've never called you.'
'There you are then. Is there something wrong with Lucy?'
'Why would there be?'
'Have you heard about what happened to her today?'
'No.'
Jack told him about her being abducted, about her being used to blackmail him and Ruth into backing off; the EncroChat operation; the container at the church; how she'd been left to bleed out; and how Ramona had brought her back from the dead.
'I was talking to her about half an hour ago and she said nothing about any of that.'
'You know what she's like.'
'I accused her of falling asleep on the job, because I've been suspended.'
'Why?'
'It's a long story, but the important thing is that I'm innocent of all charges.'
'So, why are you ringing me if it's not about Lucy?'
'I'm on my way to an address in Battersea where supposedly there's a serial killer who's murdered thirty-five women over six years and his latest victim is chained up in the cellar.'
'It sounds like a standard police operation.'
'Under normal circumstances it would be, but as I said – I've been suspended, so I'm no longer a police officer. I can't call it in, or request armed back-up.'
'And that's where I come in?'
'He followed Duffy to a restaurant where she was showing me his detailed notebooks that had been stolen from his house and that she'd found, and then he followed us home. Now, he's seen that I've got the notebooks, which is what he wants to recover, and is following me and my partner to his house in a taxi.'
'Give me the address, I'll bring a couple of people along.'
'Thanks, Jack.'
'You saved my daughter, so I owe you.'
He gave Jack the address. 'We'll be there in about twenty minutes.'
'Wait until we get there before you go in.'
'Will do.'
The call ended.
'I didn't understand any of that,' Rummage said.
'You didn't need to. Jack is ex-SAS and the father of one of the women I live with.'
'Lucy?'
'Yes. You're probably not aware, but the MPS is riddled with corruption.'
'I heard something on the news today about EncroChat. They said that some of those arrested were police officers.'
'Believe me, there's a lot more than some. I think they're the ones who are behind the pornographic videos, and the extremist tweets and posts. They're trying to undermine this other woman I live with – Ruth – who's the Director of Communications at the Met and also head of a covert team on police corruption. After those videos were leaked, I'll be surprised if she still has a j
ob as well.'
'Why didn't I know any of this?'
'Because it has nothing to do with what we do, which is catch murderers and send them to jail.'
'It's like you have a secret life, Sir.'
He smiled. 'My life is an open book, Rummage. You're the one with the secret life. I never would have guessed that you were a drug addict, cosying up to drug dealers in the dark hours and swapping your comfy apartment for a row of chairs at Heathrow Airport. I can see I'll have to keep a close eye on you in the future.'
They arrived at 23 Odger Street. He parked across the road from the house and turned the engine and lights off.
A taxi passed them and pulled in further up the road.
'What now, Sir?'
'We wait for Jack.'
'We haven't got a search warrant.'
'We don't need one. This is not even our jurisdiction. Lavender Hill police station is not far away. Once we've made sure the notebooks are authentic and there really is a woman chained up in the cellar, we'll arrange everything so that even DI Singh could find the clues. Once we've done that, you'll ring and report knocking on the door and hearing a woman's cries for help coming from the cellar.'
'And when they ask me who I am?'
'You put the phone down.'
'I see. So, we're not acting as police officers tonight?'
'I'm suspended, and you're under the influence of drugs. I think if we were the arresting officers, the killer would have a good case for dismissal of all charges.'
'Yes, I see what you mean.'
'We'll wait around for the real police to arrive and that will be our job done. A serial killer will be behind bars, but we won't be sharing his cell. Are you okay with all that?'
'Aren't we being as corrupt as those police officers who were arrested today?'
'I think you're the last person to talk about corruption, Rummage. Let's just do what we have to do and move on.'
'Yes, Sir.'
There was a tap on the window.
It was Jack wearing a ski mask, gloves and holding a man in a heavy coat with a trilby hat on his head by the scruff of the neck. 'I found this guy getting out of a taxi further up the road. I checked his wallet. His name is Justin Keller.'