The Trophy Taker

by Sarah Flint

  Hunter clapped his hands. ‘That’s brilliant, guys. It fits the timescale exactly and you can follow the backstreets from Craignair Road and get right to Brixton Hill. It’s perfect. Do we have a registered keeper yet?’

  ‘I’ve done a check, but unfortunately that’s where the news is not so good,’ Naz chipped in, reading from a piece of paper. ‘GN09MHK does come back to a dark blue Vauxhall Vectra registered to an address in the Dulwich area. I got Bill Morley to drive to the keeper’s address to see if he could find it.’

  ‘And…’

  ‘It was there. But it was propped up with one wheel on blocks and accident damage to its front nearside wing. Apparently it’s old damage and there’s no way the car has been driven recently. He didn’t knock on the door because he didn’t want to show that we have any interest in it.’

  The disappointment on Hunter’s face was palpable. He threw his head back and raised his eyes upwards, shaking his head at the same time. ‘Why the fuck does this always happen to us? Just when we think we’re getting somewhere…’ A vein throbbed on his forehead. ‘Unless… It was Abrahams’ car?’ He leant forward, staring at the second console which was paused on the rear of the disappearing vehicle. ‘And he’s put false plates on it. It’s strange that after coming to light at the coast last weekend it hasn’t been seen again. You’d think his number would have pinged up at least once or twice if it was back in circulation, especially if he’d driven it up to London. Maybe he is more switched on than we thought and has changed the plates over. He’s been nicked enough times and he even made that comment about us not finding what we want.’

  ‘He’s lucky no one stopped him then if he’s on false plates.’

  ‘It is, but then he only needed to be out for a few hours on them and if anyone did a check on it, it would have come back to the right type of car, registered nearby. Who’s really going to pull over a middle-aged man in the rain on a Wednesday night? Would you? Unless there was a specific reason to stop it, it’s hardly likely to be the best stop of the night.’

  ‘I was out looking for Miller that night. If only I’d seen it! I would have recognised Abrahams anytime, whatever car he was driving.’

  ‘If only that vice officer had nicked Tanisha. I’m sure she’d have happily spent a night in the cells if she’d had a choice. But then who’s to say it was definitely Tanisha our man was after? He might just have chosen another girl.’

  ‘Right!’ Hunter clapped his hands. ‘Let’s get moving! Rather than “What if’s”, Bet and Paul, carry on looking at the CCTV and see if the vehicle comes into sight after Tanisha was picked up, in any other locations, or even better, near Cross Bones Graveyard. Naz and Sabira get a Directed Surveillance Authority written up straightaway. I want Abrahams watched. Charlie, you can brief the DCI on what’s happening; he’s covering for the Superintendent tonight. Once the DSA is written up you can get it signed off by him and make amends for the last time you saw him. ‘I’ll get a surveillance team teed up to join us. I want us following that bastard to his car if it takes us all night. We need that vehicle. Who knows what we’ll find in it!’

  *

  Charlie took the stairs two at a time and sprinted back along the corridor from the DCI’s office. The update had been brief and to the point. She’d be back shortly with the paperwork for him to sign. It wouldn’t take long for Naz and Sabira to get the authority typed up and she needed to make a phone call. Time was short. Something in what Hunter had said had prompted a thought that she needed to check out. He’d said that the murderer might have chosen another girl, but she wasn’t so sure. It seemed to her that Tanisha had been targeted, but she didn’t know why.

  Everyone was busy in the office so she logged on to her computer and quickly found the number. She just hoped it would be answered. It was.

  ‘Hi, is that Joan Whitmore?’

  ‘Yes, it is. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Hello Joan, it’s DC Charlie Stafford. It’s just a quick enquiry that has been worrying me. You said during the time you knew Tanisha you thought you had made things worse, not better for her?’

  ‘Oh dear. Father Antonio won’t be happy.’

  ‘Why? What do you mean?’

  ‘Because he said after you went, that it was a period at the church he’d rather not have brought up again and it was better left alone. It was not a happy time.’

  ‘Joan. It might be important. Please tell me what happened?’

  The old lady paused, before a long sigh. ‘Father Antonio was accused of acting inappropriately by Tanisha. She was a troubled girl, like I said. When we first knew her she was only young but as she got older she became more sexually explicit. I hate to say it, but I think maybe there were a few members of the congregation who did take up her offers, but I don’t know any names for sure. Father Antonio, however was cleared of any wrong doing eventually, but it was a difficult time for him. He was only saved really because she had made similar allegations against our previous priest, Father Michal, four years ago. As those were the first allegations she’d made, some of them stuck and he was required to resign from the post and undergo further assessments and counselling back in Rome. He has never returned and we don’t know what happened to him. I wonder now whether he too might have been exonerated in the light of Tanisha’s continuing accusations.

  ‘Anyway, it was a sad time for our church and it is probably why Father Antonio adopts a harder line on everything these days. He is a good man, DC Stafford, but he doesn’t like to be reminded of that time. He was tainted by the claims and as a God-fearing, hardworking priest it must have been a difficult thing for him to have suffered.’

  ‘I see.’ It was an interesting story and if the secretary was right, it might provide a motive for looking further into Father Antonio’s activities. His attitude to JJ was questionable; but what reason could he possibly have for harming Susan? Maybe the slurs had made him the unforgiving man he now seemed to be. It certainly didn’t make her like Father Antonio any better but whether it was enough to make him a killer? She would speak to Hunter later about it, but for the time being she was needed in the hunt for Abrahams.

  ‘Well thank you for your help, Joan. I knew there was something that Father Antonio was unhappy to talk about and I can see why.’

  She put the phone down as the printer stirred into action. Naz was printing off the authority ready for signing. She checked it through and started running towards the stairs again. Once she’d got it signed by the DCI they would be ready to go out and find Abrahams.

  Chapter 33

  ‘Right! Charlie will be our eye on the door. She knows Abrahams and is our super recogniser. She doesn’t forget a face.’

  Within a couple of hours Hunter had mobilised a squad who were now listening carefully to every word he said. It was always amazing to Charlie how quickly things were provided when the Met’s reputation was under fire. They had a serial killer to catch so absolutely everything was to be thrown at it, no trouble. As soon as she thought about this, an image of Moses and Claudette Sinkler came back to her. Hopefully very soon their man would be caught and she would be able to invest more time into catching Miller. She doubted whether she’d get half the resources when that time came though.

  ‘Do you Charlie?’

  She started at the sound of her name, feeling her cheeks redden as she realised that everybody was staring in her direction.

  ‘No, boss, hopefully not.’ The pressure was on. She got embarrassed when Hunter complimented her and she hated being the ‘eye’. It was great as long as you didn’t miss the target, but the worst thing ever if you happened to glance away, answer the phone, take a pee; anything that would mean the time and resources of a whole surveillance team would be wasted. She saw a few frowns as she spoke. ‘But don’t worry. I won’t forget his face, ever.’

  She just hoped she lived up to her word. She was to be paired up with a member of the surveillance team, Guy, which relieved the pressure a little. He was a g
ood copper and she had worked with him previously on another unit. At least Guy would keep her focussed and be in charge of radio communication. She just had to positively identify their suspect. A member of the team was already in place checking whether Abrahams’ flat appeared occupied. It was late afternoon now and the gloomy October day meant most householders already had their lights on.

  As soon as they were deployed she was to watch the main entrance to the building through a set of binoculars, from a nearby vehicle. If he left the property she would only have a matter of seconds in which to identify him and Guy and the team would then take over, by car, by foot, by public transport. Whatever method of transport he used, they had to stay with him or risk Hunter’s wrath. If he didn’t come out, they were in for a long night.

  Hunter was to be in overall charge of the deployment, although would be working in coordination with sergeants from the surveillance team and an arrest squad. It would be his decision as to what action they took if Abrahams was deemed to be arrestable.

  After any identification, Charlie was to be picked up by Hunter and his deputies in an unmarked police vehicle, leaving Guy to join the rest of his squad on the surveillance side. What would follow was anyone’s guess. Abrahams could stay inside for the night, walk to the nearby shop to pick up a takeaway or lead them on a merry dance, to who knew where.

  The atmosphere was electric; everyone hoped it would be the first of the possibilities.

  *

  14 Burnet Grove, Camberwell, seemed even more disturbing a location than the last time they had been there. Maybe it was because they personally knew one of its occupiers was a paedophile; maybe it was because the paedophile was now suspected of being a murderer, connected to three grisly murders by vehicle and MO. Whatever it was though, the building seemed to cast longer shadows than before, the tree line seemed to mask even more of its crevices and Charlie could almost feel the evil radiating out from his flat.

  The surveillance officer already on scene reported that the first-floor flat was occupied and a light flickered, believed to be from a TV. He had also seen the shape of a figure moving within which was believed to be Abrahams. Now they just had to sit and wait. Hunter would be the one calling the order to stand down as and when he thought fit.

  Charlie settled into position. She was in the rear of a van, the normal interior of which had been exchanged in favour of two benches and several gaps in the partition to the rear of the driver’s seat, covered over with a net curtain through which to spy. True to the Met’s usual form, its inability to provide equipment suited for the job in hand meant that a stool had been thrown in, allowing the occupants the height to see through the netting, the benches being too low to provide a view. In just a few hours she knew from experience that her back and shoulders would be aching and her concentration faltering.

  The first half hour was the easiest. She watched, unable to intervene, as a group of teenagers loped past the van totally ignorant of their presence, muttering amongst themselves as they bent down to ignite a firework, sending it skywards. They whooped with laughter as it exploded with a crack, sending a shower of sparks down over the crown of a large oak tree, its uppermost branches snuffing out each bright ember within its wet leaves. The group moved on, stopping intermittently to fire further missiles towards trees, parked cars and into the front gardens of nearby houses. Bonfire night came earlier and earlier each year, as did the menace that came with it.

  After an hour the anticipation was waning and the monotony setting in. The interior of the van was cool and musty from the condensation thrown up by their breath and Charlie’s hands were beginning to freeze. She rubbed them together to try to fend off the cold.

  Several occupants of other flats had entered the building but none had come out. All the inhabitants were most likely tucked up warm and well fed for the night. She was neither. They had little opportunity to chat for fear of missing the miniscule window of opportunity with which to see Abrahams in the light of the entrance. She had to stay alert. Hunter had already intimated that he was looking at around 9 p.m. as a cut-off and as the hour neared she knew they would all be feeling a sense of anti-climax. It was great when there was action, deadly if not.

  She checked her watch; there were two minutes to go. Hunter came on the radio indicating they were approaching the time to stand down but then the radio crackled with the muted voice of the officer at the rear of the building.

  ‘Stand by. The lights in the premises have just gone out.’

  Charlie pricked up her ears. Abrahams was either going to bed or coming out. She squeezed herself up to the gap with her binoculars, waiting, her adrenalin surging. The hall light came on. She held her breath, then the front door opened and she saw the figure of Oscar Abrahams. There was no mistaking him as he paused looking up at the night sky, checking the weather.

  ‘It’s him, Abrahams.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘One hundred per cent.’

  Guy was peering through a separate gap. He pressed the button and spoke just as a charcoal grey Mitsubishi pulled up outside the building.

  ‘Positive ID, positive ID. Subject is wearing all dark clothing with a red tartan scarf and black beanie hat. Out of venue and towards a grey Mitsubishi, registration number SG12CVB. Subject into the rear now and vehicle off, off, off, heading north.’

  She watched until they were out of sight then sat back and waited; relieved to have done her bit. The radio was filling with updates. The surveillance team had the vehicle in sight and under control. They made it sound easy.

  After a few minutes, they heard the locks on the side of the van click open and Paul stood by the door grinning. He gave her a thumbs-up and she responded with one of her own. There was no one about, so they scrambled out, taking deep breaths of fresh cold air, glad to be out of the stuffy atmosphere within. The Mitsubishi was heading towards Lewisham. Guy winked and waved and headed off to join his team. They walked around the corner into the entrance to a cul-de-sac and split, Charlie spotting Hunter’s car, Paul heading towards another.

  ‘Well done. Get in.’ Hunter was seated in the front passenger seat, with the two sergeants from the surveillance and arrest teams in the rear. He nodded towards the empty driver’s seat. ‘You’re driving. We’re making the decisions.’

  She jumped in and was soon on the move. They needed to be in the vicinity of the subject’s vehicle but not within its sight. They had a little distance to make up, but at this time of night the roads were clear and they made good headway.

  ‘Target vehicle at Lewisham BRS. Subject out and speaking to the driver.’

  A foot unit was out now, into the train station. They had Abrahams in sight. They would be watching and listening for any clue to his destination. It had been established the car was a mini cab but where the hell was he going now?

  ‘Target has bought a ticket to Hastings.’

  The surveillance sergeant quickly entered the information into his phone app and grimaced. ‘That’ll be the 21.34 via Orpington. Shit, there are quite a few stations to be monitored.’ He called up various units on a different channel, delegating members of his team to each station. Although Abrahams had bought a ticket for Hastings it was possible he might get off the train at any station in between to carry out a liaison; they needed to be prepared.

  ‘Target on Platform 2 now. Awaiting train. I’ll continue to be the eye.’

  ‘What the hell is he going to Hastings for, at this time of night?’ Hunter’s eyes were alight.

  ‘Knowing Abrahams, it won’t be for a social visit.’

  ‘Knowing Abrahams,’ Hunter countered, ‘it may well be social, but mixed in with business and a whole load of pleasure. Let’s hope he’ll lead us to his car. He’s heading right towards where it was last spotted. Talking of which…’

  ‘We need to get to Hastings before him?’

  ‘Yes, let’s go.’

  She pulled the magnetic blue light out from under her seat and slapped
it on to the roof, started up the flashing head lights, grille lights and sirens and headed off. The surveillance team would cover the various stations along the route, leap frogging their way to the prospective destination.

  They just had to be there waiting.

  *

  Hastings Railway Station was only just over ten years old, built to replace the neo-Georgian one of the 1930’s, which in turn had replaced the Victorian station first opened in 1851. The new building was a far cry from the first one, housing not much more than a ticket hall, coffee shop and a small satellite police office, all of which were now closed.

  Charlie was tired but exhilarated by the drive which was one of the longest she’d done on blues and twos. Abrahams was not far off, staying seated throughout the whole journey except for the change of train at Orpington. After a quick drive around the station car park to familiarise themselves with what was there, she parked the car in a local service station and nipped in for a quick freshen up and a Red Bull. She needed all the caffeine she could get. They would be waiting just around the corner while the surveillance unit did their stuff.

  On the dot of 23.29 the train arrived and the radio sparked into life again. Abrahams was on the move. He summoned a cab and climbed into the rear.

  ‘Now where’s he off to?’ Charlie followed at a distance.

  The cab took him from the station towards the seafront before veering off on to the main road back towards London. It was only a few minutes before they realised where he was heading.