Isaac phoned for support. An APW was instigated: focus on all stations downline from St Pancras. Soon, every station on the line was being converged on by police cars and police officers on foot; the woman’s importance ensured a maximum response from all police authorities.
Forty minutes later came the inevitable negative response from all stations. Isaac, annoyed that yet again she had eluded them, phoned his boss.
‘DCS, Charlotte Hamilton confirmed in London.’
‘You’ve caught her?’
‘Not yet, but she’s running scared now.’
‘I’ll phone the commissioner. May help to give you some time, but don’t count on it.’
Sara, deducing that St Pancras Underground and Gladys Lake’s hotel were too close to be a coincidence, rushed to the hotel after ensuring the police who were pouring into the station were updated. She found Gladys Lake in her room with Sean O’Riordan, two uniforms on the door outside.
‘Was she coming for me?’ Gladys Lake asked.
‘I don’t think so. She was heading in the wrong direction,’ Sara replied.
‘Staking out the area?’ Sean asked.
‘It’s possible. You’d better get Wendy and Larry to check.’
***
A desperate woman took stock of the situation. Charlotte had not expected to see Sara Marshall in the underground station; she chastised herself for looking her way.
If it had not been for the eye contact, there was no way that anyone, even a police officer, would have recognised her. If the train had not been there when she ran off the escalator, she knew she could have been caught. And now there was the problem of money. Checking her bag, she still had two thousand pounds; the rest was in her room back at the hotel, along with her disguises.
If I hadn’t got off one station down, she thought, having realised that the police would soon be mobilised to look for her. Her estimation was correct, and as soon as she left the station at Euston, she moved quickly away on foot. Hailing a taxi, she took it to Windsor, a small town to the west of London. Unable to think straight, too many issues to consider, she checked into a budget hotel using the name of Ingrid Bentham.
Once in the room, Charlotte took stock of the situation. ‘Two thousand pounds, the clothes I’m wearing,’ she said out loud to herself. She took a shower and then slept for two hours. Later, she went to a local supermarket and bought herself a few essentials: toothbrush, toothpaste, change of underwear. Apart from that, she decided to leave the rest of what she required for the next day.
She realised that the net was closing in on her. She saw clearly that the next few days would be crucial and she could not evade the police for much longer.
Wendy and Larry focussed on St Pancras; Bridget was looking at the CCTV. If Charlotte had been there, then it was clear that she knew where Gladys Lake was; it was too much of a coincidence to be discounted. Sara had been able to give a good description: red hair (obviously a wig), dark blue skirt, knee-length, blue top, possibly wool, as well as a calf-length coat, dark brown. From where she had been on the other side of the escalator, Sara had not been able to see what shoes Charlotte Hamilton was wearing.
‘If she hadn’t looked at me,’ Sara had said, ‘I wouldn’t have known it was her.’
‘Just hope she didn’t get a photo of you,’ Isaac’s reply. He had been close to Charlotte Hamilton, admittedly in the dark, but he had failed to recognise her too, so he was in no position to offer any further comment.
Gladys Lake was adamant that she would continue with her presentation, regardless of the protestations from Isaac, who had come to the hotel to meet her personally. ‘We can give you protective custody for the next few days,’ he said. ‘Charlotte’s rattled now. It won’t be long before we catch her.’
‘That may be, but I’ve been preparing for this conference for the last three months. I don’t intend to miss it, Charlotte Hamilton or no Charlotte Hamilton.’
‘Sara, Sean, stay with Dr Lake. Day and night if you have to,’ Isaac said realising the futility of further debate.
‘Will do, sir,’ Sean replied. Sara, concerned that her child had a nasty cough and she should be with him, nodded her head weakly.
Chapter 27
Charlotte was disturbed after the incident at St Pancras Underground Station; her manner in the train as it pulled out of the station had caused others to look at her. She had sworn out loud in anguish. She had nearly been caught and all because of a stupid error; if she hadn’t looked, the woman police officer would never have recognised her. She realised she had become too nonchalant about her ability to move freely, thumbing her nose at the incompetent police officers, which was how she saw them.
She had seen Sara Marshall on more than one occasion, even walked past her in the street close to the hotel one day, almost felt like sitting close to her in the foyer of the hotel. It was arrogance on her part; she knew it now. She determined to lift her game, although events were moving quickly.
A visit to a shop selling wigs in Windsor, not far from the castle, and she was a brunette; a charity shop provided the clothes she required. The subject matter of the conference where the evil doctor would speak was academic. Charlotte had read it carefully: Human Rights and Mental Health. She knew what it meant: how to make people’s lives miserable. Charlotte, knowing full well how Gladys Lake dressed, decided to dress in the same style, which made for sensible clothes and sensible shoes; not the style of clothes which she had affected when she had seduced and killed four of her previous victims.
Back at her hotel, she changed into the clothes she had bought, putting her money securely in the small bag she carried. She left her remaining meagre belongings in her hotel room and walked out of the door. She was not sure if she would be returning, but it did not matter. Her life had come full circle now, and if she could strike a blow on behalf of all those who had suffered at the hands of malevolent doctors, in buildings called hospitals but were no more than prisons, then all was fine. Whatever the day brought, she would accept it with grace.
***
Isaac, early in the office after a sleepless night, sat at his desk pondering Richard Goddard’s visit the previous day.
He had left the office the previous night close to midnight, and he had returned at five in the morning. The situation weighed heavily on his mind.
Bridget and Wendy had been working together to ascertain Charlotte Hamilton’s movements after the incident with Sara Marshall; not so easy considering that it had been rush hour, and the clothing described by Sara could have matched at least five per cent of all the women travelling at that time. Facial recognition, especially a retinal scan, was the best way to confirm one hundred per cent that it was the right person, but that was deemed not possible in this case. For one thing, the camera lenses at most underground stations were dirty, and secondly, their resolution was not ideal. The most that could be hoped for was a close match on the clothing.
The previous night Bridget had stayed in the office with Wendy, who kept up the supply of coffee until two in the morning. They had phoned Isaac on leaving to let him know they had a possible lead, and they would update him in the morning.
Wendy walked into the office at six in the morning, an hour after Isaac. ‘The alarm didn’t go off,’ she said.
‘That’s fine,’ Isaac said. ‘Grab yourself a tea, and we can talk.’
‘Bridget’s on the way, so is Larry.’
‘Fine, we’ll wait for them.’
‘It’s going to be alright, sir.’
Isaac realised that Bridget had been talking to Wendy about the DCS’s visit to his office.
Ten minutes later, all four sat down in Isaac’s office.
‘What do you have?’ Isaac asked.
‘We believe we’ve identified Charlotte Hamilton at Euston Underground,’ Bridget said.
‘Confirmed?’
‘The clothing matches, as does the time.’
‘Assuming it’s her, what then?’
‘We sent a photo to DI Marshall. She’s certain it’s her, as well.’
We’re closing in on her.’ Isaac visibly relaxed at the news, so much so that Wendy felt obliged to comment.
‘We still need her under lock and key, sir.’
‘Understood. Any further sightings?’ Isaac asked.
‘We think we picked her up outside on the street hailing a cab,’ Wendy said.
‘Details?’
‘Not possible to identify the cab. We’ll be dealing with that today; it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.’
‘Maybe an address?’
‘Always possible. The woman’s making mistakes; we should catch her soon.’
‘Hopefully before she kills again.’
‘And Gladys Lake?’ Larry asked.
‘Inspector Marshall and Sergeant O’Riordan are sticking close to her. Once she’s out of London, the better it is for us.’
‘And when will that be?’ Wendy asked.
‘Tomorrow, hopefully. So that’s the agenda for today: protect Dr Lake, find and arrest Charlotte Hamilton.’
‘You make it sound easy, sir.’
‘It has to be, or else they’ll bring in another team.’ Isaac realised that he should have berated them in the same way that he had been by Richard Goddard, but he saw that as unnecessary; they wouldn’t let him down.’
‘We’ll succeed,’ Wendy said. The others acknowledged with nods of their heads.
***
Gladys Lake woke early. Today was a big day for her, and she was excited. Her approach to the welfare of the mentally ill was to be commended for its record of success. She had been allocated forty minutes for the presentation; she could have done with sixty, but there were other speakers, and the organising committee had been adamant about her allocated time.
A shower, then breakfast in her room, a concession she had been forced to make after Charlotte Hamilton had been seen close by. She would have preferred the restaurant downstairs with its greater choice of food, but even she could see that it was possibly dangerous to be so exposed, especially after it had been discovered that Charlotte had spent two nights in the same hotel as her. After she had been spotted nearby, Sean and Sara had conducted a check of the hotel’s records and discovered the room that Charlotte had been using, along with eight thousand pounds and some clothes.
After breakfast, Dr Lake checked her presentation and went through it one more time. Satisfied that it was in order, she lay down on her bed again. She fell asleep until the phone rang. Oh, what fun, I slit his throat. Who will be next? Will it be you?’
Gladys Lake slammed down the phone and screamed for help. The two police officers stationed outside her door came rushing in.
‘What is it?’ the more senior of the two asked.
‘She’s been on the phone.’
Sean O’Riordan arrived first. He had been at the hotel since early morning and was just eating breakfast when the phone call came through from Sara Marshall. She was on her way, due in twenty minutes.
She phoned Isaac. ‘Charlotte’s called Dr Lake.’
‘Trace on the phone?’
‘Not sure yet. It looks like she used a public phone.’
‘Anyway, we need it located.’
Sara arrived at the hotel to find Gladys Lake calm but still upset.
‘You need to cancel your presentation,’ Sara said.
‘I’ll be okay. I intend to honour my obligation.’
Aware, after so many times of trying, that she would not be able to dissuade the woman, Sara acquiesced. The plan she outlined to those charged with protecting the doctor was that they would take her to the event at 11 a.m. for the pre-conference get-together.
At all times, one police officer was to be at her side, which would be, unless advised otherwise, either Sara Marshall or Sean O’Riordan. Two police officers would be stationed at the main entrances to the venue, and police would be interspersed throughout the building. All persons entering would be checked and their credentials established.
As it was a two-day event, it was clear that Charlotte Hamilton’s window of opportunity was limited, at least in London. At the conclusion of the day’s activities, Dr Lake was to be taken back to the hotel and protected at all times. On the third morning after arriving, she would travel to the railway station to catch an early train back to Newcastle. A discreet police escort consisting of six officers, including Sara and Sean, would accompany her to Newcastle where she would be placed under the protection of Rory Hewitt and his team. At no time, and Sara was adamant about this, was Gladys Lake allowed to be out of sight of the police.
As Sara explained, it was not only about protecting Dr Lake. It was also about capturing Charlotte Hamilton who was preparing to take some action, although where and when was not known.
***
Wendy and Larry were at Euston Underground. The security videos had identified Charlotte Hamilton but not where she had gone after leaving the station.
The taxi rank offered the best opportunity, and six officers, as well as Wendy, were working the taxis one by one, although the drivers were not pleased to be delayed. However, they could not avoid the police, and it was always best to keep on the right side of the law; they knew that.
Larry was the first to make a breakthrough. ‘That’s her. She was a nervous woman, kept asking me to drive faster,’ an Indian Sikh driver said.
‘What can you tell me about her?’ Larry asked.
‘Can’t it wait? It’s the best time of the day to make money.’
‘Official police enquiry.’
‘Then be quick.’
‘Where did you take the woman?’
‘Windsor, an excellent fare at that time of night. There’s a train out there, but for some reason she preferred to come with me.’
‘Address?’
‘Just in front of the castle, that’s all. Can I go now?’
‘Subject to giving your details. We’ll need a statement later from you.’
‘That’s fine. I’m a good citizen. Always willing to help.’
The Sikh driver gave his details. Larry could see no reason to detain him further. However, he had not been able to provide a precise address.
‘Important, is she?’
‘Very.’
‘Okay. You have my phone number, but as I said, I dropped her in front of the castle. No more than that.’
Isaac, now aware of where Charlotte had gone, was soon on the phone to the police station in Windsor. Larry and Wendy left Euston soon after Larry’s success, and with their team headed towards the small town, twenty miles to the west, that was invariably swamped by tourists hoping for a glimpse of royalty. It was still early; there was a chance they could stop Charlotte before she left there.
Sergeant Bevin Downton met them on arrival at the police station in Alma Road, no more than a mile from Windsor Castle, and the last known location of Charlotte Hamilton.
‘What can I do for you?’ Downton, a tall man with dark wavy hair, asked.
‘Your team is ready?’ Larry asked.
‘One step ahead. Once you phoned and explained the situation, we had people out on the street asking passers-by. Also, we’re checking the hotels now. If, as you say, she’s running scared, she may have stayed close to the city centre, or moved on somewhere else.’
‘Not likely that she’s moved,’ Wendy said. ‘Time’s against her now, and she knows it. We believe that she will strike today in London. She’s already phoned the target; scared the living daylights out of her.’
‘Give us three hours, and we should have checked the main possibilities,’ Downton said.
***
Charlotte wandered down by the river, throwing some bread for the ducks to eat. It was still early, too early to complete what remained unfinished from Newcastle. Usually, she would skip breakfast, but today, for no apparent reason, she decided that a full stomach was needed.
‘Full English breakfast, dear?’ the waitress at the sm
all café asked.
‘Yes, please,’ Charlotte replied. She checked inside her bag; all that she needed was there.
Ten minutes later, her breakfast arrived: tomatoes, eggs, bacon and sausages. Charlotte gulped down the meal, paid the bill and left the café. She walked to the railway station in Windsor and took the 7.55 a.m. to Waterloo. From there it was a one-mile walk across Waterloo Bridge to Chancery Lane, and the London International Medical Centre where the conference was to be held, although she intended to leave the train at Vauxhall, two miles further away from the venue.
She realised that there would be police at Waterloo looking for her; her phone call to Gladys Lake would have alerted them to her primary target. A rational person would not have made such an error, but she was no longer rational, only focussed. If she was to die in the attempt, so be it, but Gladys Lake had to die first.
The train moved rapidly to its destination, Charlotte barely registering the movement. It was only when she heard the driver announce ‘Vauxhall next stop’ that she raised herself from her seat.
As she had predicted, there was no police presence at the station, only railway security, and they weren’t looking for her. She left the station on the side closest to the river and walked up the Albert Embankment; it was only 9.30 a.m., and time was on her side. A police car came hurtling by, its siren blaring. For a moment, Charlotte moved over to one side, closer to the river, but the car did not stop. She resumed her steady pace up the road, passing Lambeth Bridge, Westminster Bridge and the Houses of Parliament; at any other time scenically impressive, but not for Charlotte. She came to Waterloo Bridge and looked around for a heightened police presence; she could see none. The crowds had started to form on the bridge: locals going about their usual business, tourists with iPhones taking photos, mainly selfies to post on social media. None of them interested her as she maintained her pace over the bridge, looking left and right, straight ahead, not noticing the River Thames flowing beneath her. Leaving the river, she reached the Strand and turned right, eventually reaching Chancery Lane and her destination. The police car outside was the first sign of trouble; the second, the two police officers checking everyone entering the building.
The DCI Isaac Cook Thriller Series: Books 1 -3 Page 81