Random Targets

by James Raven

  Temple was told that they were still waiting for the Ministry of Defence to get back to them. The team had asked for a list of trained army snipers and military personnel who were currently in the UK. They also wanted details of any servicemen and women who were considered high risk, perhaps because they had a history of mental illness.

  ‘We need that information now,’ Temple said. ‘So chase up the MOD. If you think they’re dragging their feet intentionally then let me know.’

  Temple then opened up the meeting to questions and ideas. He wanted to hear their thoughts and theories.

  ‘We should check out the traffic cameras on the A33,’ someone said.

  Fiona Marsh pointed out that this was in hand.

  ‘Unfortunately, there are no cameras for several miles in either direction from the spot where it happened,’ she said. ‘And it’s a busy road, especially during the rush hour.’

  ‘Should we try to communicate with the sniper?’ DS Vaughan said. ‘If we can open a line of communication perhaps we’ll understand why he’s doing it.’

  ‘It’s something we should consider,’ Temple said. ‘We could make a direct appeal during the next press conference.’

  This was a cue for the press office people to raise a bunch of issues. They said the media were clamouring for more information. A press conference had already been scheduled for later that morning. There were a dozen requests for interviews and motoring organizations were demanding to know what was being done to keep drivers safe.

  Beresford spoke up for the first time at this point, his voice was high-pitched with urgency.

  ‘You don’t need me to tell you that these attacks have shocked the nation,’ he said. ‘If there’s another during this evening’s rush hour, fear will really get out of hand. Motorways are vital arteries. They keep the country running. If people stop using them then the financial implications will be enormous.’

  He paused for a few moments and worked his jaw in circles as though in thought. There were small spots of perspiration on his forehead.

  ‘From the sniper’s point of view motorways are easy targets, especially in the dark and when they are busy,’ he said. ‘Drivers can’t see anything beyond the hard shoulders on unlit sections. All the sniper has to do is lie in wait and strike when he’s good and ready.

  ‘He also has plenty of time to make good his escape. Motorways are usually surrounded by countryside. The sniper might well be the only pedestrian around for miles. And unless choppers get to the scene within minutes of an attack there’s no hope of catching him.’

  A low murmur swept through the room. The Chief Super was spelling out a stark reality which most of them hadn’t yet come to terms with.

  ‘I’ve just heard that the Prime Minister intends to convene an emergency meeting later today of the COBRA Committee,’ Beresford said. ‘The Chief Constable has been asked to attend so that he can brief them on the investigation.’

  For Temple this was not an unexpected development. COBRA meets to formulate government responses to national crises. In recent years it had been convened for the London bombings, the fuel strike and the knife attack on the soldier in Woolwich.

  ‘Downing Street wants to be seen to be doing all it can to find this maniac,’ Beresford said. ‘The sniper’s latest message has generated a high degree of concern and it seems certain that the investigation will now be led from London. But that doesn’t mean we stop what we’re doing.’

  Beresford moistened his lips and turned to Temple, ‘I gather that only a few of us are aware of what was in the message. I think it’s time everyone was told.’

  Temple cleared his throat and explained for those who didn’t already know that the sniper had sprayed another message in red paint on the floor of the footbridge.

  ‘He must have done it just minutes before he started shooting,’ Temple said. ‘He would have known that the footbridge would be one of the first places we’d check.’

  Temple decided to write the short message on one of the whiteboards so that it would have more impact. He used a black marker pen and wrote it out in big bold letters.

  THIS WON’T STOP UNTIL I’M DEAD

  Then he stepped back and let everyone see why even the Prime Minister was now quaking in his boots.

  CHAPTER 21

  THE SNIPER’S LATEST message was so alarming that they feared it alone could lead to widespread panic. For that reason Temple did not want it in the public domain.

  Much to his annoyance, though, someone went and leaked it to the media. He was tipped off about it just before he faced the second press conference, which meant he at least had time to prepare himself.

  ‘We are indeed taking the message seriously,’ he said in answer to a journalist’s question. ‘As you would expect we’re doubling our efforts to catch the sniper. And I’d urge the public to remain vigilant and report anyone they see acting suspiciously close to a motorway.’

  ‘What exactly do you mean by doubling your efforts?’ asked a reporter from Sky News.

  Temple leaned forward across the table and pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. He kept his voice flat as he spoke into a collection of microphones.

  ‘Aerial surveillance is being stepped up along all motorways,’ he said. ‘That means more helicopters in the sky during the busiest periods, all with night vision capability. From today we’re also putting out more police traffic patrols and we’re increasing the number of officers working on the investigation to fifty.’

  ‘Do you believe the sniper will launch another attack during the rush hour this evening?’ This from a young female reporter with CNN.

  ‘We really don’t know,’ Temple said.

  ‘But it’s obviously possible,’ she persisted. ‘In which case what’s your advice to drivers planning to travel home from work on motorways? Should they avoid them and use other roads?’

  This was a tricky one so Temple didn’t respond immediately. He ran his tongue around his mouth in the hope that Beresford, who was sitting next to him, would feel obliged to answer it. But he didn’t. So Temple said, ‘We can’t allow what’s happening to affect the way we live our lives. People have to go about their normal business and that includes travelling on all major roads. The sniper can’t be everywhere at once so the chances of becoming a victim are miniscule.’

  He knew it was a feeble answer, but then he couldn’t think what else to say. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage drivers to shun motorways. That would surely lead to chaos on a massive scale. Other roads would become gridlocked, causing heavy lorries to thunder through towns and villages that were ill-equipped to cope with them.

  He moved on to talk about the security footage showing the man with the rucksack. The tape – which included shots of the car – had already been widely circulated along with photographs.

  ‘This man is our prime suspect,’ he said. ‘The car he used was stolen and he parked it as close to the M27 as he could. It’s possible he was carrying a weapon in the rucksack. We’d like to hear from anyone who thinks they might know him.’

  Temple then gave a description of the L115A3 sniper rifle and pointed out that it was used by the British army, but was also available via the internet.

  ‘This is a very distinctive and powerful weapon,’ he said. ‘We believe it’s what the sniper is using. So we want to know who has one. It could be someone’s friend or neighbour. Or a dealer who sold one recently or in the past. Any information we receive will be treated in the strictest confidence.’

  The questions continued at a blistering rate and several referred to the government’s decision to convene a meeting of the COBRA Committee. Beresford answered those and said that the investigation was now too big for Hampshire police to conduct alone. He said officers from the Anti-Terrorism Command were already working alongside his own team.

  Finally Temple got around to appealing directly to the sniper.

  ‘We have no idea why you’re carrying out thes
e shameful attacks,’ he said to the cameras lined up in front of the table. ‘We’d like you to tell us. You’ve murdered twelve innocent people. So surely there has to be a point to it. Get in touch and speak to us.’

  He knew the appeal would generate numerous hoax calls, but he also knew there was a small chance they’d hear from the sniper himself – if only so he could boast about what he’d done and what he planned to do next.

  After the press conference, Temple retreated to his office and tried to pull his thoughts together. His brain felt splintered and dread lined his stomach.

  He viewed yet again the video footage of the pile-ups and the sequence showing the man and woman being gunned down. They’d been identified as Joanna Frome, a 31-year-old secretary, and Phil Kavanagh, a 45-year-old solicitor and father of three. The two drivers murdered in their cars were both men in their fifties.

  Temple then read through all the statements that were taken at both scenes and discovered what he already knew: nobody had seen anything, but that was hardly surprising given the circumstances.

  Next he turned on his PC and went to Google maps. Using the satellite gizmo he studied the locations of both shootings. He was able to view the motorways and the bridges from various angles, and get a bird’s eye view of the areas around them. He could even put himself in POV mode and approach the crime scenes just as though he was driving a car.

  What struck Temple was how easy it would have been for the sniper. His victims wouldn’t have seen him. The roar of the traffic would have smothered the sound of the shots. And having delivered death to the motorways, he would have been able to leave the scenes at a leisurely pace.

  Temple found himself wondering why this hadn’t happened before. Had it really not occurred to terror groups like Al-Qaeda that it would be easier to target motorways than planes, tubes and government buildings? A high-powered rifle could do as much damage as a bomb, especially if used to cause a multiple collision involving vehicles travelling at high speed.

  Temple picked up a folder containing all the details of those who’d died. He read the names and stared at the photos, his stomach knotting like a ball of twine. He wondered about the sniper. Was he indeed an ex-military man? Someone who’d been trained to kill for a living? Someone who had learned to become emotionally detached from what he did? Someone who was insane or having a breakdown? The fact that he was using a British army sniper rifle suggested he could be, but that didn’t narrow the field by much since there were hundreds of military guys out there whose minds had been warped by conflict. The prisons were full of soldiers who’d snapped. In fact former servicemen were significantly over-represented in the prison system when it came to violent crime.

  Temple’s eyes were suddenly drawn to the TV in the corner of the office. He saw himself speaking earlier at the press conference. Then there was a brief interview with the Home Secretary outside the Cabinet Offices in London where the COBRA Committee meeting was about to start. The volume was turned down so Temple couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  ‘I didn’t know you could lip read, guv.’

  It was DC Marsh. She was standing in the doorway with a quizzical expression on her face.

  Temple grinned. ‘I’m not really watching it. I’ll be out shortly.’

  ‘Well, I’ve come to tell you that I’ve just had a call from the MOD,’ she said. ‘They’ve arranged for us to meet a senior officer with the Royal Military Police’s Special Investigations Branch. He’s got information to impart.’

  ‘About bloody time. Is he coming here?’

  ‘No. We’re going to him.’

  ‘Oh, right. Where is he?’

  ‘Bulford in Wiltshire. It’s where the RMP are quartered.’

  CHAPTER 22

  THE DAY WAS still grey and washed out as Temple and Fiona Marsh headed north in a pool car.

  Marsh checked the internet via her mobile phone for information on the Royal Military Police HQ in Bulford.

  ‘It’s on Salisbury Plain, close to Bulford Army Camp,’ she said. ‘About forty miles from Southampton.’

  The RMP were more commonly known as the Red Caps. Their responsibility was the policing of service personnel in the UK and abroad. The Special Investigations Branch dealt with serious crimes and operated in a similar way to the mainstream CID.

  ‘Who’s the guy we’re going to see?’ Temple asked.

  ‘His name is Greg Savage. He’s one of their senior investigators.’

  ‘Did you speak to him?’

  ‘No. I took the call from the MOD in London.’

  ‘So you don’t know what he’s going to tell us.’

  ‘They just said that he’s the officer who’s been assigned to respond to our questions.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope he’s not going to waste our time. It’s a long way to go for no good reason.’

  They discussed various ideas and theories. She told him that the view among the team was that the sniper was probably not a terrorist. He was more likely a lone psychopath who was either ex-military or an amateur gun fanatic. Someone with a grudge. Or a very loose screw.

  ‘It’s amazingly easy for any nutter to lay his hands on a high-calibre rifle,’ Marsh said. ‘I did a quick search of the internet after the briefing and found three of those army sniper rifles for sale within a few minutes.’

  That didn’t surprise Temple. Anything could be bought on the highly encrypted section of the internet known as the ‘Dark Web’. Thousands of illegal and untraceable transactions took place every day. A whole new dynamic had been added to the business of buying and selling firearms.

  ‘I also didn’t realize just how many guns are stolen from the British army,’ she said. ‘According to one official report more than four hundred weapons have gone missing since 2006 from barracks and depots.’

  ‘What kind of weapons?’

  ‘Mostly rifles and machine guns. Squaddies sell them on the black market.’

  It was a frightening statistic, but Temple wondered just how accurate it was. Whenever figures were released that reflected badly on the armed forces you could be sure they’d been doctored by the MOD.

  The true number of missing weapons was probably much higher.

  RMP headquarters. A squat L-shaped building just south of the Bulford Army Base in Wiltshire. Temple and Marsh were met at the gate and escorted to Greg Savage’s office.

  There they were greeted by a curvy, middle-aged woman with a hint of blush on the apples of her cheeks. Her name was Gaynor and she wore large horn-rimmed glasses that gave her an erudite look.

  ‘Mr Savage is expecting you,’ she said. ‘I’ll bring in coffee and tea so you can take your pick.’

  Senior Investigator Greg Savage was sitting behind his desk in an office that looked too small for him. As he stood up to introduce himself Temple saw that he was built like a rugby scrum half. Broad shouldered and heavy chested. He was fortyish with a shaved head and a florid face. Temple was surprised he was wearing a sombre grey suit and not a uniform.

  He shook their hands and invited them to sit across the desk from him. The office smelled of wax polish and dried flowers. There were photographs on the walls of Red Caps on parade and in combat situations.

  ‘Let me start by thanking you for travelling up from Southampton,’ Savage said as he straightened his tie. ‘I would have driven down, but I have to attend a court martial at the base in a little while.’

  ‘It’s no problem,’ Temple said. ‘I just hope that what you have to tell us will be helpful to the investigation.’

  ‘I hope so too,’ Savage said. ‘This really is a bad business. And I’m sure you must be dreading the prospect of further attacks.’

  ‘Damn right we are,’ Temple said. ‘And since the killer appears to be good at what he’s doing we suspect he’s a proficient marksman. Which is why we need information on military personnel past and present who’ve had sniper training.’

  ‘I completely understand,’ Savage said. ‘But as you can
probably appreciate there are scores of people who fall into that category.’

  ‘Well, you can rule out anyone who’s overseas at the moment,’ Marsh said.

  Savage nodded. ‘Even so the list of names is pretty daunting. But we’ve had a team working on it throughout the night to come up with a shortlist. I asked them to start with men who live or are based in the south of England. Having seen the security footage you released of the man with the rucksack I told them to forget about women. I also told them to flag up guys whom we know have psychological issues, including those who’ve served time in prison for any reason.’

  He tapped a buff-coloured folder on his desk.

  ‘So far they’ve come up with eight names. I was given the list earlier and I’ve spent the last two hours going through it. They’ve done a good job and drew my attention to one man in particular who stands out.’

  Temple felt a spurt of adrenaline and wanted to leap up from the chair and grab the folder.

  ‘Who is he?’ he asked.

  ‘His name is Cole Renner,’ Savage said. ‘Lance Corporal Cole Renner. He’s a sniper with Four Battalion, the Rifles, which happens to be based here at Bulford.’

  ‘So why does he stand out?’ Temple said.

  Savage leaned forward across his desk. His breath reeked of peppermint. ‘Renner has gone AWOL,’ he said. ‘He was supposed to report back here for pre-deployment training nearly two months ago. But he didn’t show up and we’ve no idea where he is. Plus I discovered a note that was put on his file three weeks ago. It refers to a phone call we received from one of his former colleagues, a guy named Ryan Addison. Addison wanted us to know that Renner phoned him out of the blue whilst apparently off his head on drink or drugs. Anyway, he told Addison that he was pissed off with the world and wanted to take it out on someone. Addison felt duty bound to report it.’

  ‘So what was done about it?’