The Perfect Corpse

by Giles Milton

  It was gone nine when Jack awoke, later than he intended. He had dreamed of Karin during the night and woke up thinking he was back in London.

  He threw on some clothes and followed the smell of warm cinnamon down to the kitchen. Fran and Elsie were sitting at the table eating bowls of cereal. Tammy was loading the dishwasher. She had showered and washed her hair. She’d been up for some time.

  ‘Can’t believe you slept so well,’ she said. ‘I was awake half the night. Only got about two hours. That’s why I look so crap. You, meanwhile – ’

  He helped himself to coffee from the glass jug and sat down at the kitchen table, running his hands through his hair.

  ‘D’you like Honey Nut Cheerios?’ asked Fran.

  He forced a smile. ‘Love ’em. Know what, they’re my favourite.’

  ‘Told you so, mom. Told you he’d like Honey Nut Cheerios. And you said he wouldn’t.’

  Smiling, Tammy walked across to the table and handed him a bowl.

  ‘Well if Jack Raven’s so keen on Honey Nut Cheerios then Jack Raven can eat as many as he wants.’

  ‘Maybe later.’

  ‘Will you play piano again?’ asked Elsie.

  ‘Later. If your mum lets me.’

  ‘She said you’re staying longer,’ said Fran.

  ‘Let’s see.’

  ‘You going to marry mom?’

  He laughed, then looked up at Tammy.

  ‘Your mum would not marry me!’

  As soon as the children were distracted he asked her if there was any news. ‘Spoken to Tom? Perez?’

  She shook her head. ‘Guess no news is good news. I checked Twitter. Local TV. All quiet. He didn’t strike last night. For once.’

  Jack got up from the table and looked out into the yard. It had rained again in the night, but only lightly, and the storm that had threatened all evening had blown itself elsewhere. The garden path was damp and the two acacias were glistening in the morning sunshine. They looked like they’d woken up covered in sweat.

  ‘Thought Nevada’s meant to be the driest state.’

  ‘Was until you arrived.’

  He drained his coffee and put the cup in the dishwasher.

  ‘Christ,’ she said. ‘Bill wouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘And I cook,’ he said, 'but only on request.'

  ‘Always said guys must have their uses. Boy, the kids are certainly happy to have you in the house. Just wish the circumstances were different. In every sense.’

  Jack went upstairs to take a shower, then came back down to check if there were any replies to the emails he’d sent on the previous evening.

  ‘They promised they’d get back to me before they close.’ He looked at his watch. ‘And with the time difference, that’s in half an hour.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The Met Office. Exeter. I sent an email yesterday.’

  *

  The doorbell rang. Tammy went to answer.

  ‘It’ll be Perez and the others,’ she said. ‘They said they were coming round.’

  She paused for a moment. Jack sensed she had something to add.

  ‘D’you mind not saying you stayed here? It’s just that Tom and Hunter – ’

  ‘Course not. If they ask, I had another swell night at the Comfort Inn.’

  The others came into the house and went straight into the family room. ‘Holy-moley’ said Hunter. ‘You moving house?’

  The papers from the previous night were scattered across the floor and their empty glasses were still perched on the piano.

  Tammy appeared with coffee. ‘Want some?’

  Perez nodded. ‘Thanks.’

  Tom also took a cup.

  Jack told them everything he’d discovered about Hanford military station, the anthrax and Ferris Clark. And then he read out the two letters. Perez frowned as he finished the second.

  ‘Grant you one thing,’ he said. ‘It explains why Hitler wanted the scientists killed. And why he wanted Ferris Clark killed. I’m guessing Hans Dietrich went to Greenland to kill Ferris Clark. And if he hadn’t somehow snuffed it, his next stop would have been Nevada.’

  Jack nodded. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘By why did he have Ferris Clark’s address?’ asked Tammy. ‘Don’t get it.’

  ‘Perfect place to hide out,’ said Jack. ‘Ferris Clark’s dead. The house is empty. They know he hasn’t got family. Ferris’s house was to be their base in Nevada.’

  Perez stood up and paced around the room. ‘Yeah, yeah.’ He sounded irritated. ‘But it still doesn’t bring us a rat’s ass closer to catching the fucker.’

  Hunter slurped his coffee.

  ‘He’s left the house in Green Diamond. No sign at all.’

  ‘Really?’ Jack looked up.

  ‘Yeah. Owen and Riley went over last night. Doesn’t look like he’s been back. Nothing’s been moved. Nothing touched.’

  ‘Uniform still there?’

  ‘Yep. Least it was. They’ve taken it away. And rearranged things in the basement. But – ’

  Perez interrupted him, speaking slowly.

  ‘Where the fuck can he be?’

  There was a long silence, as if everyone was searching for an answer.

  ‘And Rayno?’ asked Jack. ‘What’s he up to?’

  Perez explained how Rayno had instigated a mass search of sheds and outbuildings. Factories, warehouses and storage buildings, all had been combed for clues. Wasteland, the skate park, Dexter’s Wood, they’d been searched by the police.

  Nothing.

  ‘Washington’s doing profiling,’ said Perez. ‘Each killing gives them more to go on. But I spoke to Bill last night, Bill Catchpole. Head of profiling. Know what he said? Strangest serial killer they’ve ever dealt with. They even had a bust-up over it. Half of them say he’s killing at random, other half say it’s all planned. And Bill, d’you know what he says to me? He says, “And I’m sitting on the fence like a fucking squirrel.”’

  *

  Tom, Hunter and Perez left soon afterwards, having agreed to touch base later that afternoon. Tammy went into the kitchen to make an early lunch.

  ‘Fran? Elsie? You stay with me here in the kitchen. Jack’s busy with work.’

  ‘But why, mom? Can’t we play with Jack.’

  ‘You can play later.’

  Jack went back to his laptop and checked his in-box. There was a reply from the Met Office. Subject: Ferris Clark.

  He scrolled down. Two pages of information, sent as a pdf.

  ‘Anything?’

  He could hear Tammy calling from the kitchen.

  ‘Bring your laptop in here if you can cope with these two.’

  Jack skim-read the email and saw he’d struck gold. The first part of the email gave a historical framework for the D Day forecasts. It had been lifted and pasted from the internal catalogue.

  ‘The Meteorological Office, which was in those days known as the Central Forecast Office, moved out of London in early 1940.’

  That much he knew. It had been re-established in Dunstable, thirty miles to the north, and given a codename. The government had quickly realised the importance of forecasting. And as the war progressed and the planned landings in northern France became a reality, accurate forecasting became essential.

  ‘Jack - ?’

  The specialists working at Dunstable were among the best in the world. Billingham, Jones and Smethwick were brilliant climatologists. CKM Douglas was top of his game. But the accuracy of their forecasts was dependent on data gleaned by meteorologists on the ground. Neave in Spitsbergen, Sam Forsyth in Jan Mayen Land and Ferris Clark in Eastern Greenland. Of all these outpost stations, Ferris Clark’s was the most important, because North Atlantic weather patterns move from west to east.

  Jack rolled up his sleeves. The family room was hot and airless. Tammy had kept the windows closed for the last twenty-four hours.

  He scrolled down the screen, nodding to himself as he digested the information. It was as he suspected. G
reenland was the key to everything. Ferris Clark’s work had been important through the spring of 1944, but it became vital at the beginning of June. Operation Overlord was planned for the first week of that month and the landings could only go ahead if the weather was good. If they missed June, the next weather-window (with moon and tides) wouldn’t be for weeks.

  The Dunstable weathermen thought the unseasonable storms were set to continue for the whole week. So did their American counterparts.

  But Ferris Clark disagreed.

  F. Clark had been meticulously gathering data on air and sea temperature in Eastern Greenland, as well as on atmospheric pressure and humidity. He had produced a series of charts of the counter-clockwise spring storms and he had also produced a ground-breaking study of the Azores High, a semi-permanent high pressure zone that drifts across the North Atlantic.

  Jack lifted his eyes for a moment. He could see where it was leading.

  Ferris Clark recorded a consistently rising barometer throughout the morning of 4 June. He was the first person to realise that the Azores High was drifting northwards. From the data he gathered, he predicted a weather window on the 6 June that would be just long enough for the Normandy landings to take place.

  The American weather team rejected Ferris Clark’s data. They urged Eisenhower to launch Overlord on 5 June. But the British team placed their trust in Ferris Clark. In the weeks since he had arrived in Greenland, every daily forecast had been correct. There was no reason not to trust him now.

  In the event, General Eisenhower decided to rely on Ferris Clark. It was a huge gamble, for it involved placing at stake the lives of 160,000 men. Not only that, failure would have meant the postponement of the landings in northern Europe for at least a year, if not indefinitely.

  Eisenhower’s trust in Ferris Clark was not misplaced. The 5 June (the preferred date of the American team) proved to be extremely stormy, with a Force 5 gale that caused a heavy swell in the English Channel. Cloud cover was so low that bombing raids would have been impossible. But as midnight approached, the area of high pressure shifted considerably to the east, just as Ferris Clark had predicted. This caused the wind to drop and the swell to calm.

  Jack sat back in his chair. So he was vindicated in keeping faith in Ferris Clark. He’d been key to it all. He had accurately forecast the weather for D Day. Without him there’d have been no landings. Or worse still, landings that failed. And all done from a lonely cabin on the east coast of Greenland.

  There is a sad footnote to this remarkable piece of weather history. Ferris Clark was killed in an enemy ambush on the night of 4 June. He therefore went to his death unaware of the glorious role he played in the greatest sea-borne landing in history.

  The email ended with a note informing Jack that any additional information would necessitate a visit in person to the archives held at the Meteorological Office Library in Exeter.

  ‘Jack – lunch – ’

  Tammy was calling from the kitchen. He got up and went through. ‘We’ll eat with the kids. It’s not gourmet, I’m afraid.’

  They ate salad and rice and chicken wings in barbeque sauce. Then Tammy sent Fran and Elsie to watch a DVD in the family room.

  ‘So?’ she said. ‘What news?’

  Jack told her what the email had said.

  ‘Shit, Jack! It was Ferris Clark that made D Day a success?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘And that was the last thing he did?’

  ‘Seems so.’

  ‘And then he was killed?’

  ‘Yep. And then he was killed.’

  TWENTY-NINE

  They were still sitting at the kitchen table when Tammy’s phone rang.

  ‘Yeah?’

  Silence.

  ‘No. NO!’

  Jack looked at her, knowing exactly what had happened.

  ‘Shit, shit – who – where - ?’

  She turned to look at him, drew a grim face as she listened to the voice on the other end. It was Jon Perez.

  ‘He’s struck again – ’ she whispered, cupping her hand over the phone. And then, talking back to Perez, ‘D’we know who? And where?’

  Jack put down the papers he was holding and waited while Perez gave Tammy the details.

  ‘Another couple,’ she said, clicking off the phone. Her face was white. ‘Only these ones are young, in their twenties. Shit, shit. It’s one big fucking nightmare. Perez wants you over. Now. It’s Lovedock Way.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Downtown. In the one-way system. First you have to – oh, hell, it’s not easy to explain -’

  She thought for a moment then picked up her keys from the table by the door. ‘I’ll drive you there.’

  She called up to the children. ‘Fran, Elsie, come down. Quick.’

  She led them out through the kitchen and into the garage that adjoined the house.

  ‘Can you turn the light on?’ She then fumbled with her keys, searching for the right one to lock the door behind her.

  ‘Get in the car,’ she said to Fran and Elsie, pushing them gently into the back. Jack got into the front seat.

  ‘Mom, I’m hungry,’ moaned Fran.

  ‘Me too, Mom. Where’s the cookies. We want cookies.’

  Tammy sighed heavily and glanced at Jack.

  ‘Sorry. Give me two secs.’

  She found the key again, unlocked the door and dashed back into the kitchen. Cookies, cookies. She opened the cupboard, pulled out the packet at the front. Then she dashed back to the garage and got into the car.

  ‘Cookies!’ shouted both kids triumphantly.

  ‘Yeah, well don’t eat them all or you’ll be sick,’ said Tammy, getting into the front seat and starting the engine. ‘Did you hear?’

  ‘Yep mom.’

  The garage door swung open automatically and Tammy pulled out into Golden Park Drive, turning right into Manor Street.

  ‘Won’t take us more than a few minutes,’ she said. ‘But it’s complicated cos of this one-way system.’

  ‘Where we going?’ said Fran from the back.

  ‘Jack needs to see someone. We’ll wait in the car. He won’t be long. It’s something important.’

  ‘Who’s he seeing?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. He needs to see someone. Won’t be long and then we’ll go back home and I’ll cook you – ’

  She paused.

  ‘What d’you want tonight?’

  ‘Pasta.’

  ‘Then I’ll make pasta.’

  ‘Mom,’ asked Elsie, ‘is Jack coming for pasta?’ Both their faces brightened at the thought. ‘Jack! Jack!’

  Tammy looked at him. ‘You will stay? I feel safer with you in the house.’

  Jack nodded and then turned to Fran and Elsie with a smile. ‘Thanks for the invite.’

  Tammy parked the car at the far end of Lovedock Way. Jack got out.

  ‘Can we come?’ asked Fran from the back seat. ‘Can we go with Jack, mom?’

  ‘Not okay for you two. Jack’s got business.’

  ‘Give me five,’ he said. ‘Won’t take any longer. I kind of know what to expect.’

  He walked to the far end of the street where there was the now familiar gathering of TV vans, cameras and police cars. He noticed the same faces that he’d seen earlier in the day, only now they’d been joined by new ones. Sky hadn’t been there before, nor had World. There was even the guy from the BBC. So the story had made it to England. Everyone likes a serial killer.

  The scene that greeted him at 416 Lovedock Way was much as he expected. A house dating from the late twenties, no sign of damage to the doors or windows. Sheriff Rayno was looking even more downcast. Officers Cass and Don were standing like security guards on either side of the front door, happy to have made it onto the news bulletins. Something to show to the children and grandchildren. A temporary generator had been erected on the small patch of grass and the TV lights were on, even though it was broad daylight. They bathed the front of the house
in a curious white glow, turning it into a film set.

  Jack scooped the plastic cordon and passed underneath. Then he walked over to the door, raising his arm into a wave as Rayno looked round. When he entered the house he glimpsed Sergeant Perez in the back room. He walked through and Perez looked up.

  ‘Ed and Hayley Mann,’ he said. ‘Twenty-five and twenty-two. No kids.’

  Jack nodded. ‘The same, I guess?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Perez thumped his fist on the desk. ‘Why, why, why? It makes no fucking sense. For fuck’s sake, why?’

  Jack looked at him. It made sense to Hans Dietrich.

  ‘Wanna see them?’ said Perez.

  ‘Ought to.’

  ‘Upstairs. Front room.’

  Jack made his way up the carpeted stairs, pushed the door. It was exactly as he was expecting. A drop of congealed blood dangled from the lampshade, caught in a strand of hair.

  ‘No links to the others,’ said Perez, who joined him inside the room. ‘We’ve got folks working on it right now. Checking it out. These two, the Manns, they don’t seem to have known Ashton Brookner. No links with the Pereira couple, at least we haven’t established any. It’s completely random.’

  He paced purposefully around the room, stepping carefully over the carnage.

  ‘And you guessed it, no signs of how he entered. No fingerprints. No fucking trace of anything at all. Jesus, it’s like we’re dealing with a ghost.’

  He paused at the rear window and Jack joined him there. They stared into the back garden. The sun was sinking fast and the sky was an unclean blue. Another storm brewing.

  ‘Shit.’

  Perez kicked at the carpet. He was thinking on his feet.

  ‘No link to the others.’ He said it to the room, then turned to face Jack. ‘At least Brookner and the Pereira couple knew each other. They were friends. We had something to go on. But these guys had never even met.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yup. We’ve run checks on their calls. Rayno’s been through their contacts, diaries. He’s checked out their emails.’

  ‘What did they do?’ He pointed down at the corpses. ‘Ed and Hayley, was it?’

  ‘He worked for that logistics place out on the ring. Exton Solutions. And she – ’ He glanced down – ‘was a teacher. A classroom help.’