by John Stewart
“Darren Taylor was married and he didn’t have a dog.” Simon hit back, in a somewhat childish retort. “Look Ethan, let’s just say I have my reasons. All I need is access to the footage database.”
“Out of the question!” Sloane snapped.
“Just a back door into the server for a few days. You can access it, I know you can.”
“Simon, I’d have to log my access times and the reason for doing so. If someone checked it, I’d be on the shit heap with you. Also, Sergeant Myers tells me you still haven’t returned the safe house keys.”
Simon’s jaw clenched at the ‘Shit heap,’ remark and silence held the line for a few moments.
Feeling the tension, Sloane spoke first.
“I shouldn’t have said that. You know I’m your mate Simon, but I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”
Simon stood up from the park bench and started walking for the nearest exit with purpose.
“Listen to me very carefully Ethan, you can and you will. I don’t care how you cover it, just do it. When I went, I went quietly, so you and all my so called mates could carry on as if they were squeaky clean. Don’t forget D.S. Sloane, I was with you that day when you took…”
“Jesus Christ Simon!” he replied before Simon could continue. “Okay, you win. Just know that we’re done as friends after this.”
“You gave me no choice Ethan and stop pretending we were friends. You kept me close because you had to, no other reason. I’ll expect the database link in my inbox by the time I get home. Thanks for your help… mate.”
Sloane ended the call in disgust.
“Slimy bastard!” He muttered, slamming the phone down on the desk. Having no choice, he logged into the server containing the city’s CCTV feeds and with a reluctant sigh, he sent the access passwords on to Simon.
***
The evening had crept in by the time Simon reached his apartment. He went straight to his laptop and opened his emails. As expected, the access passwords he demanded were waiting for him. Feeling a pinch of guilt for blackmailing his oldest ally on the force, he logged into the server using Sloane’s identification number and proceeded to search for the feeds around Weaver Fields. After a while, trawling through reference numbers and thumbnail images, he found the main camera overlooking the central point of the park. An apprehensive grin crept across his face as he found another two feeds covering the streets opposite the main entrance, all of which went back over the previous twenty-four months.
“This is perfect.” He said to himself as he took note of the file numbers he wanted to download. His smile was short-lived, however, as when he tried to download the videos, a read-only message appeared on the screen. He tried again and again, but the message returned each time. It was only then that he noticed the message from Sloane below the link in the email, informing him of the read-only option from outside the station. It was an understandable security measure that Sloane couldn’t alter even if he wanted to.
The only course of action left available, was to watch the footage in real time until he saw something or someone acting suspiciously around the park. The good news was that the camera was set to only record when motion was detected so he could get through it in a fraction of the time a continuous recording would take. Still, he was in for a long haul, so he filled up on caffeine and pulled up the video dated one month before the murder of Darren Taylor in January 2014.
Chapter 24
Intrigued by what Meadowcroft was alluding to on the phone, Mike chose the ‘Say nothing until you hear more,’ approach and proceeded to download all the files from the link he had just received. As promised Rebecca had a full pot of coffee ready and sitting on the table when he arrived in with the laptop.
Mike hooked the laptop up to the 42 inch television in the living room, much to Rebecca’s bemusement.
“Why is the computer on the telly?”
Mike laughed. “And the apprentice becomes the master.” It wasn’t long since she had been the one explaining the invention of cloud computing to him, but in the intervening year, he had an ever-growing interest in new technology that had long passed her by.
Rebecca gave him a sarcastic grin. “Really? Star Wars references now?”
“I don’t have the paper, ink or the patience to print out all these files and the laptop screen is too small for both of us to work from, so voilà! We have a big screen presentation.”
“Very impressive, Professor Wesley. Can we get the lecture underway?” Rebecca joked as she poured the coffee.
She insisted on a complete overview of every case, on the off chance that her injury had caused any unforeseen loss of memory and what started on a light note, quickly became very serious, as Mike summarised the first two cases. Pierce Renshaw, who was burned alive in his Jeep in the car park of Spankers Hill Wood and Clarissa Briggs, who died from an overdose of methadone and was found on Hampstead Heath. Much to Rebecca’s relief, the summaries confirmed her memory to be intact, recalling every last detail from her pre-coma research.
Getting through both cases had swallowed what remained of the evening and they opted to pick it up again the following morning.
***
Breakfast table reading the following morning was far from their usual light hearted chit chat. Instead, they elected to get an early start on the Kimberly Barnes case. Mike was somewhat apprehensive going over the details again, fearing the sight of her mutilated eyes would prompt the return of his nightmare. With little choice, he carried on and Rebecca looked through the images like it was her first time.
“You really don’t remember any of this?” Mike asked in amazement.
“Not a bit,” Rebecca replied, with a shrug of her shoulders.
“That’s mad. I went through it listening to your notes.” Motioning to her audio recorder on the table as he replied.
“Play it back there. I’d like to hear how I did the first time,” Rebecca said with a curious expression.
Mike picked up the recorder and searched for the correct file to play. “You didn’t miss a thing if I recall. Very efficient,” he said with a smile.
They sat and listened to Rebecca’s recording, as she meticulously analysed every detail of the case.
“That’s so weird. It’s obviously me, but I don’t have the slightest recollection of saying any of it.”
By lunchtime, they had the Barnes murder in Brenchley Gardens fully revised. Rebecca even made fresh notes rather than trusting her old ones. This mystified Mike, as both sets of notes were virtually identical by the end. They stopped for a break and were finishing off the rest of Ray’s food, when Mike had an idea. Halfway through his sandwich, he stood up from the table. “I need to call Ray for a minute.”
“You gonna thank him for lunch?” asked Rebecca, looking mildly suspicious.
“I just realised, I can save us a lot of time by getting him to do some legwork for me. It won’t take a minute,” he said, walking into the spare room.
Ray was out having lunch with a girl he’d met online when the call came through. The date wasn’t going as he’d hoped and he took the opportunity to cut it short, telling her it was a very important call from a source that he simply had to take. Rushing out of the restaurant without leaving a tip, he eventually answered the phone.
“Danny Boy! Sorry, had to wrap up a date from hell there. What’s up? Rebecca okay?”
Mike laughed at Ray’s endless romantic struggles, having lost count of his many online dating failures.
“Jesus Ray, just get a dog and call it a day will ya?”
“Very funny. Although, now you mention it, that’s not a bad idea. The ladies love dogs.”
Mike shook his head in wonderment at his colleague’s persistence.
“Listen, I need a favour. Are you busy this afternoon?”
“Well, that depends on what you need. I have a tasty piece I’m working on involving the young prince and a lady of the night.”
“How about a possible cult murder ring?”
Mike said, attempting to make his impending request seem more exciting than it actually was.
Ray stopped walking. “What? Here in London? Is that what you’ve been working on? Nice!”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yeah, definitely. What do you need me to do?” Ray said with obvious enthusiasm.
“Good man. I need you to do some research on a Unicursal Hexagram.”
“What the hell is a Unicurrr… whatever you just said?”
Mike laughed at Ray’s unwillingness to even attempt the word. “It’s a Unicursal Hexagram, a six-pointed star. I’ll text you the spelling. I need you to find out anything you can about it. Like if any high profile crazies have it tattooed on themselves? Was it ever used as a logo? Anything at all. It might be important.”
Ray displayed an expression of sheer bamboozlement as Mike spoke but replied as if he understood perfectly.
“No problem, I’ll do the important stuff for you Danny Boy. Just remember who gets the credit when I crack the case for you.”
“Well, obviously you will Ray,” Mike said with thick sarcasm. “Just let me know what you turn up. No panic though, tomorrow is fine, cheers.”
“Alright, talk to you later,” Ray said, lighting a cigarette as he hung up the phone.
Mike walked out of the spare room wearing a bemused grin.
“What’s so funny?” Rebecca asked with a smile.
“Ah, just Ray. He’s gas. Fingers crossed he can help us though. Right, where were we?”
Rebecca had the table already cleared and the files from the William Coope case onscreen.
“William Coope. Let me guess, he was killed by a methadone overdose as well?”
“Wrong, this guy had a somewhat less tranquil ending,” Mike said, as he began the summary of the gruesome mutilation in as much detail as possible while Rebecca made notes on it all. Following that, he moved straight onto the Darren Taylor case and explained, with a certain level of pride, how he had made the discovery of the ‘Happy New Year,’ writing on the inside of the bag that covered his head.
“Very clever, Professor,” Rebecca said, patting him on the shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah, watch out Sherlock,” Mike said with a laugh. “So, assuming that’s all the evidence there is. What do you make of it?”
Rebecca took a deep breath and began doodling on her notepad as she spoke. “Well, as far as I can make out, we’re possibly dealing with two or more sets of killings.” Mike held in a smile, knowing that he had come to the same conclusion before Simon had revealed the note to him. Rebecca continued. “The Taylor and Coope killings seem to have the strongest connections. I’d be very surprised if the ‘Y2K,’ and the ‘Happy New Year,’ references were not linked.”
“Okay, so how do the rest fit?” Mike asked, hoping she might have seen something he’d missed.
“That’s the thing, they feel different. The Briggs and Barnes cases have the methadone and eye tampering in common, even showing classic signs of killer escalation, from the drawing on the eyelids to their total removal, but aside from the cuts, I’m struggling to see a concrete link to the latter two killings and as for the Renshaw case, I have nothing. I guess the only thread linking everyone is the fact that they all lived outside the city, but that’s pretty thin.”
“What about the use of a surgical scalpel on both Kimberly Barns and William Coope? Could be the killer’s weapon of choice during that period,” Mike offered, highlighting the M.E.’s notes on the screen.
“Yeah, that’s something alright, but anyone can get their hands on a scalpel. Sure you use one to open all your parcels.”
Mike let out a subdued laugh.
“Okay, so you think what? Two sets of double murder and one random arson attack?”
Rebecca gave her answer some consideration before answering. “If this is all we have, I think our story should focus on how Simon devoted his career to solving his remaining open cases. We can paint him as misguided but dedicated. Not as sexy as the whole serial killer angle, but it just doesn’t seem to apply here and we can only reflect what the cases appear to be.” Mike nodded with an agreeable expression. “You obviously know more though. What do you have?” Rebecca asked with a smile.
“Meadowcroft got an envelope through his letterbox just after we started working with him. He only admitted to it when I told him I was done with the cases.”
“What was in it?” Rebecca asked with increased interest.
“A piece of paper with the words ‘Just one more resolution left,’ nothing more.”
“And this note is why he thinks all these cases are linked? But I thought he’s been working on these for years?”
Mike sighed. “Yeah, he has. He thinks that they’re all connected and the killer was the one who attacked you.”
Rebecca felt a slight shudder run up her spine at the thought. “So, what is he saying? There’s going to be another murder?”
Mike rubbed his chin. “There’s more. After I spotted the writing in the bag, Simon spoke to someone at the Met. They gave him more info on the Darren Taylor case.”
Rebecca sat forward and began writing on her pad.
“Go on.”
“The officers at the scene removed a piece of paper from Taylor’s jacket with the words ‘Weaver Fields,’ written on it.”
“Weaver Fields? Sure that could be a reference to anything,” Rebecca said sceptically.
“True, but Simon marked it on the map as a possible sixth location and when I connected the dots numerically from one through six and back to one, I got this,” Mike replied, taking out the printout of the map containing the overlaying hand drawn Unicursal Hexagram.”
“How the hell did you come up with this?” Rebecca asked, looking at the messy pattern.
“It’s a pattern we used to challenge the first years to draw in engineering college, a six-pointed star you can draw in one movement. When I traced the numbers in sequential order over the map, the pattern came back to me and by linking the location of Weaver Fields back to the first location of Pierce Renshaw’s murder, the pattern is complete. I think it’s the link we need to connect all five cases. That’s why I have Ray researching the Hexagram now. He might find something about it that helps us figure this out.”
Rebecca sat back, feeling a little overwhelmed by the developments. “Jesus! Do you really think these cases are the work of one person?”
“Let’s just say, Simon might have something after all.”
“Mike, if that’s true, then maybe it was the killer who attacked me at Simon’s apartment.”
Mike clenched his jaw, thinking of Rebecca’s attack.
“I know, that’s why I want to help him nail the bastard!”
Chapter 25
Ray arrived back at the office and got straight to work. Mike had sent on confirmation of the spelling as promised and Ray hit the Internet for some information on the Unicursal Hexagram, something he had never heard of before.
He first searched for images to give him an idea of what exactly it was he was researching. The search yielded hundreds of examples, some varied in shape, others had additional elements in the pattern, but the general shape was clear and vaguely familiar to him. He couldn’t pinpoint where he had seen it before, but he knew he had and with the pattern clear in his mind, he went on to read copious amounts of Wikipedia entries about its uses in ancient and modern day cultures.
Ray wasn’t known for being a quiet character around the office. If anything he could be a distraction to the rest of the staff, but he got his work done so he was tolerated. His boss, Eric Munroe, passed through the office shortly before Ray’s shift was due to end and when Ray failed to pop his head up and impart his usual brand of over familiar small talk, Munroe knew he was up to something. He walked over to Ray’s desk and stood behind him. Oblivious to his boss’s presence, Ray continued reading and scribbling barely legible notes on a pad. Munroe leaned in over his shoulder and whispered in his ear.
“
Must be a full moon out tonight.”
Ray jumped with the fright he got.
“Jesus! Sorry Gaffer, I didn’t see you there.”
“Don’t be sorry. This is the first time I’ve seen you so busy. It’s a good example for the trainees,” Munroe said, giving Ray a pat on the shoulder. “What are we looking up?”
Ray briefly considered telling him about Mike’s call, but thought better of it. “Oh this? This is just some research I’m doing for that story you suggested about the Prince and the call girl. I’m finding all sorts here.”
“Right, very good. Well, keep it up, but don’t get your hopes up, a little bird told me it’s likely there’ll be a gagging order on my desk in the morning.”
“Oh right, well I’ll see what I can dig up anyway, you never know, we might get lucky.”
Munroe smiled and gave him another slap on the shoulder.
“That’s the spirit, never give up. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Alright Gaffer, see you then. Fingers crossed eh!”
Munroe acknowledged his words by giving him a thumbs up as he left the office and Ray got back to it.
After another couple of hours sifting through related websites, his eyes began to sting and checking the time, he saw it was almost 10pm. He leaned back and stretched his arms before gathering all his notes. Keen to prove his competency, he decided to call Mike and fill him in on his findings.
***
Mike and Rebecca had been discussing what they should do next since wrapping up their long day of analysis. Following Mike’s admission of wanting to help Simon find the killer, Rebecca had given him a lengthy speech about why they took on to work the cases and reminded him of her initial apprehensions. Their discussion had led to a borderline argument but had simmered by the time Mike’s phone rang.
“Who would that be at this hour?” Rebecca said, checking her watch. Mike picked up the phone and saw Ray’s name onscreen. “Ah, it’s Ray, I told him to call me tomorrow. He probably hasn’t done a tap yet,” he said, giving Rebecca a sceptical frown as he answered. “Mr. Phillips, what can I do for you?”