Solomon's Key

by Tim Ellis

  She nodded and pulled out her phone.

  ‘He’s on his way,’ Julian said to me. ‘I’ve been a bit remiss. Whilst we’re waiting for Peter and Rod, would you like a drink?’

  ‘Coffee would be great for both of us,’ I said, reminding him that KP was still in the room.

  He picked up the phone again to arrange refreshments.

  Peter the nurse arrived first. He was a tall, pencil-thin man in his late fifties or early sixties. His skin was grey, and he had dark rings round his eyes. I could imagine him frightening people in the dark corridors at night.

  ‘Ah Peter,’ Julian said. ‘Come in and take a seat.’

  He edged into the room and sat on a hard wooden chair looking nervous.

  ‘We’re having great difficulty in finding out what Daniel Connell looked like. Do you think you could describe him for a sketch artist?’

  He thought for a minute. ‘It’s been a while, but yeah, I could give it a go. I was his named nurse whilst he was here. What’s he gone and done now?’

  ‘That’s not important, but what makes you ask?’

  ‘I told Doctor Mayberry he couldn’t be trusted, but the Doc thought he knew better. Even gave him that computer for being so good.’

  ‘What do you mean, he couldn’t be trusted?’

  ‘Well, I told the Doc it was all an act, Connell being nice to everyone. He just wanted to get out of here. I had a feeling I’d see him back again, I’m just surprised it’s taken so long. When he thought no one was watching he let his guard down, and there was something evil in his eyes. He should never have been released, that’s my view.’

  A fairly accurate assessment, I thought. It was a pity he wasn’t running Broadmoor at the time Daniel Connell was here instead of Doctor Mayberry.

  ‘Well, if it’s any consolation, Peter,’ Julian said, ‘you may have been right.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said to Peter. ‘We’ll get the forensic artist here later this afternoon.’

  Peter stood and left, and KP finished her call.

  ‘They’ve asked a Miss Julia Stokes to come over this afternoon. I rang her, told her what we wanted, and gave her our fax number. We’ll have the picture by six this evening she said.’

  Julian got up again. ‘I had better warn security to expect her, and to guide her here to me.’

  After he had made the call to security the refreshments arrived, and we helped ourselves. I was glad that a plate of assorted biscuits had been put on the tray. I was famished and helped myself to two chocolate ones.

  Rod knocked and came in. ‘Sorry Doc, there’s nothing on any of the thirty-six Connell tapes. Whoever wiped them did a good job. I’d like to know how they did it though.’

  ‘Do you mind if I take a couple of the tapes with me?’ I said. ‘Forensics may be able to recover some data.’

  Julian thought for a moment then said, ‘I was thinking about doctor-patient confidentiality, but as there’s nothing on the tapes, I don’t see there being a problem. If you do manage to recover anything though, I would be grateful if you could return them to me. If you find nothing, don’t bother.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said getting up. ‘I can’t thank you enough for your help, Doctor.’ I offered him my hand. ‘We’d like to use the toilet before we leave, if that’s possible?’ I looked at KP, who nodded enthusiastically.

  He directed us to the toilets. When we came out, he had put on a duffel coat and escorted us back to the security office. We handed in our visitor’s badges, and I collected my car keys. I checked the boot to make sure the computer wasn’t going to move about, and after more thank you’s and hand shaking, we eventually escaped from Broadmoor at three-fifteen.

  There was no way we were going to make it back in time for a press briefing at four o’clock. We reached Crowthorne and I decided to stop at a café and re-schedule the rest of the day.

  After ordering two teas, and fish, chips and peas each, we sat on an out-of-the-way table and rang Ali on KP’s phone, putting it on speaker so that we could both hear.

  After the pleasantries, I began: ‘First of all, inform the press that the briefing has been moved from four to six-thirty, we should be able to get back by then. They won’t like it, but tell them we’ve made a breakthrough and have identified a suspect. Arrange for a television news team to be ready to interview me at eight o’clock for the ten o’clock news. There’ll be a team briefing at seven o’clock in the incident room. I’m bringing back two videotapes and an old computer that I want forensics working on tonight. A forensic artist’s sketch of Daniel Connell will be coming through by fax later this afternoon, make sure copies are given to the press before the briefing. Did uniform find Lisa Connell’s records?’

  ‘They found them at about two o’clock and rushed them over here.’

  ‘And…?’

  ‘Unknown to everyone, Lisa Connell was pregnant when she was admitted to Hanwell. She tried to hide her condition, but they found out after four months, which was too late to abort. She went full term, and they took the baby off her immediately after it was born. Within a month, Lisa Connell had committed suicide.’

  ‘Not another child! Well, his mother’s suicide certainly gives Connell a motive for revenge if he didn’t have one before. Was the child a boy or a girl?’

  ‘Unknown.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The notes only refer to the child as the baby.’

  ‘What happened to the baby?’

  ‘We’ve been on to Social Services and they know nothing about a second child. They admit their records may not be accurate, so they’re going to re-check. We’re waiting for them to come back to us.’

  ‘For the moment we concentrate on Daniel Connell. What about Suzie?’

  ‘Nothing, Sir, she hasn’t returned to GCHQ, or her flat in Cheltenham, and no one has heard from her. The communications centre says that her phone remains inactive. We checked the CCTV footage of the reception from the hotel security tapes, and she’s not on any of them. The camera located in the corridor on the presidential floor didn’t appear to be working, so we weren’t able to get anything from that.’

  ‘What do you mean, “didn’t appear to be working”?’

  ‘We asked the manager, and he said that it had stopped working sometime during Sunday morning. He planned to get an engineer out to it today.’

  ‘It sounds too much of a coincidence to me. What was the last thing seen from that camera?’

  ‘We haven’t checked, Sir.’

  ‘Get forensics onto it. I want to know the time it stopped working, the last thing it recorded, and what caused it to suddenly stop working.’

  ‘OK Sir.’

  ‘We’re on our way back now. If you need to contact us for anything else ring KP’s number.’

  ‘James?’

  ‘Oh, hello Chief, have you been listening in throughout?’

  ‘Yes. Is this Daniel Connell a serious suspect?’

  ‘He’s the only suspect, Chief. But yes, he is. We haven’t linked him directly with the murders yet, but I’m sure that we will. Once we’ve got his mugshot, we’ll put out an APB, which will be greatly enhanced by newspaper and television coverage.’

  ‘All right, James, we’ll see you soon. Drive carefully.’

  The food arrived and I tucked in with gusto. KP, who normally ate like a stick insect, fell on it as if it were her last meal.

  It was ten-past four. Satiated, we made our way outside. It was dark, and had begun to snow again, as if we hadn’t been blessed by more than enough snow. Reports of the chaos associated with Britain’s inability to cope with falling temperatures and heavy snow had dominated the news for the past seven days.

  The motorways were eerily deserted, although there were some, like us, who refused to listen to good travel advice – don’t.

  It wasn’t until we reached the M25 that KP began speculating. ‘If Daniel Connell is the killer, what about this Solomon’s Key and the metal pot?’

/>   I laughed. ‘Metal pot! You mean the brass vessel that Solomon put the demons into?’

  ‘It’s a metal pot, isn’t it?’ she said smiling.

  ‘Calling it a pot, put me in mind of a chamber pot. You know the ones they kept under the bed for...’

  ‘Yes, I do know what a chamber pot is. My granny always kept one under the bed.’

  ‘The good old days, huh?’

  ‘The point I was trying to make was, where did he get the book and the pot from?’

  ‘Why don’t you ring your friend Father Jacob, he might have some useful ideas.’

  Taking out her phone she said, ‘I think I will.’ She rang the station and spoke to Ali again, who gave her the number for Chelsea Old Church. KP keyed it in and put the phone on speaker. Just when we were thinking there was nobody home, Father Jacob answered.

  ‘Chelsea Old Church, how may God be of service?’

  There was no mistaking that we had reached Father Jacob.

  ‘Father Jacob, it’s...’

  ‘…the beautiful sergeant. How can I help lovely lady?’

  ‘The Chief Inspector and I are on the M25 travelling back to London. We were wondering where the killer might have obtained the book and the brass pot?’

  We heard Father Jacob laughing. ‘I apologise for laughing, beautiful sergeant, but I am sure King Solomon himself would have laughed to hear the Monarchia Daemon described as a brass pot. The book – Claviculæ Salomonis, or copies of it, can be freely downloaded from the Internet. Whether they are true copies is debateable. The brass pot...’ we heard him chuckle again, ‘...now that is another matter. As I said on Saturday, Godfrey of Bouillon hid the Key and the Monarchia Daemon during the First Crusade at the siege of Jerusalem in 1099. We could speculate that both have been found if copies of the Claviculæ Salomonis are freely available. However, it could also be a fake, or it might be a hoax as many believe.’

  ‘Thank you for your help, Father. Have a nice Christmas.’

  ‘May God shower you with the gift of love,’ he responded. The phone went dead.

  ‘That’s depressing,’ KP said, ‘all that suffering for a fake or a hoax.’

  I was about to say something when she said, ‘That was a stupid thing to say, ignore me. It’s late, and I’m tired.’

  ‘Anyway,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t really matter where he got it from, or whether it’s real or fake...’

  ‘That wasn’t the point I was trying to make. I was thinking about the unexplained time gaps. Maybe he went to Jerusalem or somewhere to find the brass pot.’

  ‘We’ll ask him when we have him safely ensconced in one of our cells at the station.’

  ‘What about this other child?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Let’s call it a he,’ she said. ‘He could be the killer. He could also be helping his elder brother.’

  ‘It’s just as likely that he could be a she, and she knows nothing about any of what’s been happening.’

  ‘I wonder why Social Services have no record of the child.’

  ‘Probably a clerical error,’ I said. Newborn babies don’t just disappear.’

  ‘Don’t they?’

  I grinned then said, ‘Sounds as if you have some unresolved issues. Maybe I should recommend that you attend counselling as well. That would be poetic justice wouldn’t it?’

  She grunted. ‘What I don’t understand is that if Suzie is the next victim, why did he take her from her room? He could have just left her there until he was ready. Every murder has taken place in the victim’s home. The killer has stuck rigidly to the locations on the map in relation to the Sigil. Father Jacob said the next murder would be in the centre of the Sigil. We’re missing something.’

  ‘Maybe she’s not the next victim,’ I said hopefully.

  ‘You don’t believe that,’ she said.

  No, I didn’t believe it. I knew in my heart that he already had Suzie. I was praying she was still alive, and that I could save her, but I knew that time was running out for both of us. Although Daniel Connell appeared to be our killer, we still didn’t know what he looked like, and neither did we know where he had her.

  KP rang the station again. ‘Hi Ali, it’s me again,’ she said. ‘Can you send a couple of uniforms to check out Suzie’s room at the Jumeirah Carlton.’

  ‘Haven’t we done that already, KP?’ Ali’s voice came over the loudspeaker.

  ‘Humour me,’ KP said.

  ‘OK, it can’t do any harm.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She hung up.

  ‘Female intuition?’ I asked.

  ‘If you like.’

  We drove in silence until forty minutes later when Ali rang back. ‘Nothing, the room is as empty as it was this morning.’

  ‘Thanks Ali,’ KP said. ‘I just had a feeling.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  I pulled into the station car park at six-fifteen. It was still snowing. The six inches of snow that had fallen throughout the day, which had nearly brought the country to a standstill, could be seen as a crisp white blanket on top of the Chief’s car.

  It had been a long day. KP and I were both stiff from hours sat in the car. We made our way up the stairs. It was unnaturally quiet. The Chief stood in the top floor corridor waiting for us like a harbinger of doom.

  ‘Hello, Chief,’ I said warily. ‘Where is everyone?’

  She ignored my question. ‘Welcome back. Please come with me.’ She led us to her office. KP and I looked at each other, wondering what was going on.

  I was too tired for guessing games. ‘What’s going on Chief?’

  We sat down. The Chief passed us both an A4 sheet of paper. We looked at the face on the paper, and then at each other again.

  ‘I don’t understand, Chief,’ I said.

  ‘That is Daniel Connell,’ she said. ‘We received it on the fax from the forensic artist twenty minutes ago.’

  Of course, I thought. The haze began to lift. No wonder the killer was always one step ahead of us.

  ‘This explains a lot,’ KP said. ‘It’s hard to believe though. He was such a nice guy, so charming, credible.’

  ‘Is he in custody?’ I asked.

  ‘Unfortunately, we haven’t seen him since your phone call to Ali,’ the Chief said. ‘He must have known what was coming and slithered out.’

  ‘How did he ever get in this position?’ KP asked. ‘The press is going to take us to the cleaners over this. What happened to the security vetting?’

  ‘I have informed the Chief Constable,’ the Chief said. He has already initiated an internal investigation.’

  ‘Police reputation is the least of our worries,’ I said. ‘Now we need to find out where Suzie is. I don’t want to wake up to another phone call from him.’

  I stood up. ‘What about the press briefing?’

  ‘They’re waiting for you, James.’

  ‘Have they got the picture?’

  ‘No, I thought it best to hand it out when you are there to explain who it is.’

  ‘Are we going to tell them?’ KP said. ‘We’re going to look pretty stupid.’

  ‘What would be worse is not telling them, and then they find out afterwards,’ the Chief said. ‘We will look stupid whenever we release the information, and I’ve found it is usually better all round to be up front with embarrassing details. The damage doesn’t spread so far, and the British public have short memories.’

  ‘Now we know what he was doing between 2002 and 2008,’ I said. ‘Have we sent people round to his flat?’

  ‘Yes, Ali and Brian have gone with CO19 and a forensics team. They haven’t arrived yet, but I’m not very hopeful they will find him. He’s had at least a three-hour head start on us.’

  CO19 were London’s SWAT team – the police firearm’s unit. ‘Do you think it’s possible he’s armed?’ I asked.

  ‘We don’t know what he’s capable of. He’s killed five women, and is ready to dissect another one. I thought it best to err on the side of caut
ion; a psychopath is capable of anything.’

  I nodded in agreement. ‘Right, let’s go and use the press as our line of communication to the public. The sooner we inform them about what’s going on, the sooner his face is out there and we can find him.’

  ***

  I led the way to the press briefing room. It was six-forty, and I could see the wolves were restless. A hush descended on the pack as we entered and sat down. The Chief had joined us this time, but she left the talking to me. I nodded for the press liaison officer to hand out Daniel Connell’s picture.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ I began once they were all looking at the face of a killer. The picture you hold in your hands is a forensic artist’s impression of Daniel Connell. He is a psychopath who has been locked up in mental hospitals since the age of four. I would like his face to be on the front page of every paper. We have no idea where he is now. What we do know is that he already has another victim, and we need to find him before he kills her.’

  William Browne from the Times stood up in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and yellow tie that he wore like a uniform. ‘Why has it taken you so long to identify a suspect, Chief Inspector?’ I wondered how he could spit his words out with a giant plum in his mouth. ‘Five women have died, and there will probably be a sixth.’

  ‘Daniel Connell has been masquerading as Detective Constable Paul Padgett, a member of my team.’

  The wolves went wild, snapping at each other, spitting into mobile phones, tape recorders, and snarling at me. I waited until the frenzy had died down.

  I held up my hands for quiet. ‘An internal investigation to ascertain how he was able to fool so many people for so long is already underway. In the meantime, I need your help in preventing another murder.’

  A young and spotty Julie Waterston from the Independent asked, ‘Who is this woman that the killer has, Chief Inspector?’

  ‘Miss Suzie Palton from GCHQ, she has been helping us with our investigation. She went missing from her hotel yesterday.’ I nodded to the press liaison officer and she passed round the smiling photograph of Suzie.

  I told the wolves what I needed from them, and they ran out laughing like hyenas over the carcass of our embarrassment. The papers would make good reading tomorrow morning, and I’m sure, sell very well. It was just the sort of story everybody loved.