After keeping all of his listeners guessing for the entire show, he made everything perfectly clear at eight fifty, just ten minutes before the show ended.
“Okay guys. Here it is. The greatest record that has ever been made - in fact, this one record is better than every single Beatles record. You think I’m exaggerating? Well listen for yourself.”
With that overblown introduction, he began playing the track. It was instantly enchanting, a steady hypnotic beat accompanied by an ambient snaking rhythm with a familiar sample from some old seventies soul track looping over it all. It sounded great, sure, but after fifty two seconds of instrumental introduction, it really didn’t sound worthy of such a build up. But that was when the vocals kicked in. The instantly recognisable voice of Pop came oozing out of the music, though his voice had been slightly speeded up to keep time with the tempo.
Mike Angelo was absolutely right, this was a brilliant record. Pop’s voice kept going, the words that he had used to bring most of the nation together on his campaign were pumping out with the melodic track.
The sound quality was excellent, it had you imagining the face that you had already dreamt up for the man, and put him into a recording studio wearing a pair of headphones, as he gave his all into the microphone. But that wasn’t it at all, and you soon realised that the voice was simply sampled from the speech that he had made on Sky News the previous Thursday night, right after killing twelve paedophiles.
The speech just kept on going, certain points and issues were repeated, in a few cases constantly - particularly the line “we just have to stand together on this.” And all the way through the record came a line from the start of the call, “I think I’m hooked,” which was also soulfully sung by backing singers as the chorus.
It gave every listener a cold shiver. Goose bumps were on arms across the land.
When it ended, it was obvious to everybody that had heard it - it was going to be massive.
Mike Angelo announced the details of the track, told the few listeners who hadn’t already guessed that it had been produced by DJ Funky Jazz, who was behind some of the best selling dance records of recent years. The breakfast show host then told his listeners that the track was available to buy immediately from the internet.
As though further encouragement was needed to buy the record, he then added that Funky Jazz had decided that all profits from the track would be donated to the charity of Pop’s choice.
“So if you are out there and listening Pop, get in touch and tell us who Funky should send the cheque to.”
Mike Angelo finished his breakfast show in the most unorthodox of fashion. He played the entire track again.
On the second listen, it sounded even better.
*****
The British media had all pulled together after Saturday’s shocking a tragic development in Preston. They all agreed that they could not allow this situation to become jeopardised by the irresponsible and stupid actions of one idiot.
The papers all ran editorials, in a few cases on the front pages, denouncing the wicked crime and urging readers not to be tempted to copy Pop. It seemed like an exercise of damage limitation for Pop’s benefit.
All of the Sunday papers had run character damning spreads about Anthony Price. They listed his previous convictions for violence, theft, burglary and drug abuse. It seemed to have worked. The editors had all stood together to completely disassociate this terrible murder from Pop.
It seemed like everything was returning to normal.
At eight thirty, Sky News had shown the incredible images of a seven ton lorry pulling up outside number 10 Downing Street, and then pointed their cameras at a team of postal workers as they humped bag after bag of mail into the famous address. It seemed to go on forever, the bags looked like they were being plucked from thin air, as they just kept emerging out of the back of the big red lorry. Sky reported that the mail was the first delivery of Pop’s petitions. They predicted that the truck had brought millions of them.
*****
9 a.m. MCP Headquarters
Ellis was staring at Dixon’s mouth as it moved up and down. She wasn’t really hearing what he was saying, it was as though her mind had pointed a remote control and pressed a mute button at his head. She knew exactly what it was that he would be saying, she just didn’t hear it.
She thought that she understood perfectly why Miller had jacked - she assumed that Dixon was trying to polish the reason. She knew that she was selling out by even attending this meeting. Her eyes were fixed on the senior, though the expression and body language told Dixon that she wasn’t interested in what he had to say. Ellis decided that she’d heard enough. She decided that she would be true to herself, that she would respect Miller’s legacy. She cut in as Dixon spoke his soundless words.
“I’m sorry Sir. I know that I’ve tried to keep things ticking over for the last few days but I’m not prepared to take sole responsibility for this case.” She could feel the words twisting and stumbling out of her mouth. This had been the one day that she had aspired to since she’d left college. But it didn’t seem like a day to celebrate, to punch the air and shout “I did it!” It wasn’t like that at all. It stank.
Miller had been tickled with the shit stick and then, in true Miller style had grabbed the stick off his bosses, wiped it all over them before telling them to fuck off.
She wished that she could be a little more like him in that respect. The “fuck off, unless it’s great for me” attitude that he had always shown could be infuriating when it was being used against you, but - wow, he always managed to do it his way or not at all. Ellis knew that her personality wasn’t tough enough to operate in that way. She knew that if Miller had cleared his desk because he couldn’t get the bare minimum requirement off HQ, then she didn’t stand a chance.
“It could well prove to be a permanent position. Obviously your application would be better viewed if you decided to oversee this case.” Dixon was saddened, though not entirely surprised by Ellis’ declination of the job. He’d long seen her as Miller’s natural successor. He wasn’t accepting Ellis’s words though. He had to get her into the role. He needed her to oversee the investigation.
“No. I’m sorry Sir, but it’s not for me. I’m really flattered but, well - it’s bloody career suicide.” She stared down at her knees, as Dixon looked long and hard at the D.I. He was disappointed, that much was obvious, which flattered Ellis. Not only had she been offered Miller’s chair, she’d also caused a little blip by turning it down.
But then the harsh reality of the situation came crashing down on her as Dixon spoke.
“Look, Karen. Please don’t take this as a threat, because I’m afraid that that’s what it will sound like. It’s really not, it’s advice. If you turn this offer down now, regardless of your reasons - it’s going to seriously infringe your chances of future promotion. That’s career suicide. That’s a bloody fact.” He gave her a stern look, trying to further press the point across. She looked up at the ceiling and blew out through pursed lips. She thought for a while before responding to Dixon’s advice.
The reasons for not taking the job far out-weighed the reasons for. Her mind had been consumed with this potential situation since Miller had cleared his office four days ago. She had known that she would have to have this conversation, and she knew that the only thing stopping her from taking on the role was Pop. It didn’t take a genius to see that unless he made an enormous cock-up, this man was not about to be caught. Karen was extremely serious about her career, but she just wasn’t prepared to do this.
“Sir, thanks for the advice, but no. I won’t do it simply because Miller’s left and there’s a post that needs filling. I know that Miller has gone for a reason - I’ve a good idea which one too, but please don’t expect me to just eat whatever shit he refused. I would be delighted to accept this post, you know I would, if I had your absolute assurance that it was for the function of catching this killer, not just to make the numbers up. I t
hink we both know that you can’t offer me that.” She stood and turned to leave, hoping that that would be an end to the matter.
“Karen. I need you to take the steering wheel.” Dixon’s voice was strangely cold, remote. Ellis found herself feeling suddenly nervous. She sat back down.
“I’m not asking you, I‘m telling you that from this morning you will be leading this enquiry. Any issues you wish to raise will be given very thorough consideration, I assure you. I will help you as much as I possibly can. I have been seriously undermined and embarrassed by Andy’s resignation. There’s no way on God’s earth that you are doing the same to me. Like I said to Andy, it’s a tough situation, but it’s not personal. I need your experience in this job, please don’t let me down on this. It wouldn’t be right.” His eyes remained fast on Ellis, her initial shock at Dixon’s request disarmed her, and then his promise of “consideration” encouraged her, and then his final emotional blackmail card swung her. She was still considering her “issues” as Dixon had referred to them when he began to speak again.
“If you feel that you genuinely can’t do this…” Ellis looked up, wondering if this was her “get-out-of-jail-free” card and focused her eyes on Dixon’s.
“…then I’m afraid that I have no alternative than to accept your immediate resignation from the S.C.I.U.”
Oof. There it was, in no uncertain terms. You will be nice and do exactly as you are told or else you can just pack up your stuff and say farewell. Dixon had a way of saying things. He managed to make it sound as though that was the only choice. His vocal delivery made it seem like it really wasn’t his decision. He made that catastrophic scenario sound casual, as though he was merely pointing out that the vanilla ice cream is probably best, and if you buy the mint and chocolate one, you’ll die.
Ellis stood once more. She felt extremely vulnerable all of a sudden. She bowed her head, muttered the word “Sir” and left the office. As she turned to close the door behind her, he offered some encouragement.
“Karen, for Christ’s sake. I’ve just given you your dream job. It’s not all that bad. I’ll be down in five minutes to formally announce your new position.” She let a very frail smile cross her lips for a second before closing Dixon’s door.
As she made her way back downstairs her mind was consumed with confusion. How had she allowed herself to be railroaded into this? She knew that Miller would probably have signed his resignation there and then. He would have addressed it to “the morons in charge.” But she hadn’t even put up a fight. She was disgusted with herself.
As she reached the bottom step of the flight to her floor, she turned and continued to descend rather than head back into the office. She kept going until she was in her car and turning the ignition key.
Unsure of where it was she was headed, she swung her Golf out of the staff car park and turned left onto the main road. Her mind was racing with all kinds of work related bullshit, like this “appointment” that Dixon had forced her into, the Pop case, the fact that she felt so guilty every time she went home and saw James. And Bob.
Ellis pulled the car over outside a greasy spoon café. She’d decided that a big old sweaty breakfast would perk her up. She spent over an hour in the café - she worked her priorities out on a piece of paper while she ate. The conclusion that she came to was a simple one. She had to arrest Pop. There were no two ways about it. It was him or her. If Pop continued and the force, the government, whoever it was that kept interfering with the enquiry finally decided that they did want him in custody after all, then her head would roll. She’d be replaced on the day.
It seemed quite apparent that the only realistic chance she had of retaining this position would be in catching Pop, regardless of whether the powers that be wanted him caught or not.
So that was her priority. As she gulped down the last mouthful of her third cup of tea, she realised that there was only one thing she could do to set the ball rolling. She would have to go and see Miller.
Staring at the little piece of paper that listed all of her aims, she eventually stood, thanked the café staff and got back into her car. She grabbed the phone out of her jacket pocket, deciding to call first rather than just arrive on the doorstep. Her heart speeded up as she pressed his number on the phone.
It seemed to ring for ages, and then Clare answered.
“Hello” she said. Ellis was relieved that it was Miller’s wife - her friend.
“Hi Babe, it’s Karen. How are you coping?” she added a little irony to her voice.
“Oh, he’s actually being quite pleasant. He’s really chilling out!” Karen was stunned. She imagined him pacing around the house, muttering inaudible swear words, or rocking back and forth on his chair while staring out of the window all day. She displayed her surprise to Clare.
“Bloody hell! I thought he might be about ready to explode.”
“Well, so did I. He’s, I don’t know. He’s out for a run at the moment. He’s just being a laugh, taking it easy. I really haven’t seen him so relaxed in years. Listen, do you want him?” Ellis paused before answering.
“I do, but, I mean I don’t want to wind him up if he’s so chilled out. Dixon’s put me in charge, I just wanted some advice.” Ellis felt as though she was walking on eggshells, worried that her presence may cause problems in the Miller household.
“Come over and see him. We can have a bitch while we wait for him to get back.” Clare sounded really positive which relaxed Ellis’s state of mind a little.
“It’s not going to cause any problems?”
“Don’t be daft. Come on over, I’ve loads to tell you. See you in a bit then?”
“Thanks Clare. I’ll see you in about ten minutes.”
She parked outside the house as Miller came limping along the road towards her. He looked fairly pleased to see her, but he also looked as though he was in some pain. She got out of the car.
“What’s up?” she asked. He continued walking towards her, pulling his face in discomfort.
“I think I’ve pulled something. It’s frigging killing,” he said, as he held the back of his leg.
“I’ll be alright. I think I’ve done a bit too much, that’s all.”
“How are things?” asked Ellis as she walked behind him, he was limping up the steep drive.
“Great. You?”
“Shit.”
Miller looked around at her. He shouldn’t have asked, he knew darn well that things were likely to be pretty shit.
“Come in,” he said as he opened the front door. Clare was sitting in the living room. The twins were fighting over a piece of fluff that Molly had found behind the sofa.
“I’ve pulled something,” he said, awaiting a sympathetic response from Clare. Miller’s wife looked up at him, and then across at Ellis. She looked shocked.
“How long has this been going on for? And you, I thought you were my friend!” Ellis laughed as Miller tutted.
“Dick. I mean my leg. Running,” he said, waiting for some pity.
“I wondered why you were limping. Go and have a shower, I’ll get some ice to put on it. Are you alright Karen?” Ellis was knelt, hugging the twins and presenting them with a packet of chocolate buttons each.
The girls sat and had a catch up while Miller showered and changed. Karen was happy to have a good chat with her friend, but was surprised that Clare didn’t seem too interested in the usual gossip. She just wanted to talk about the case. About Pop.
There wasn’t really anything to say. She confirmed that Pop hadn’t struck again, quashing any ideas of a press blanket covering up his activities. But, Ellis didn’t really have much to add. Sky News knew everything that the police knew, which was a major inconvenience.
“Anyway, how come you’re so interested?” asked Ellis, aware that Clare rarely took an interest in the work of the department.
“Oh, I’ve been following it on TV. I just wondered why he’s stopped.” Ellis looked thoughtfully at her friend before responding.
“I don’t think he has stopped. I think he’s just planning some more.”
Miller came back down, his face still grimacing from the discomfort from his leg.
“That’s me out for a good week anyway,” he said, utterly dejected.
“You’ve been doing too much. I warned you, you need to take it slower.” Clare looked over at Karen.
“He thinks he’s Mr Universe, he’s been running a couple of hours a day. Mid-life crisis I think. I bet he’s got the Rocky music on his I-pod.” Ellis laughed, but Miller just shook his head and limped off into the kitchen.
“Anyone fancy a brew?” he asked as he went.
Ellis followed him through.
“Dixon’s put me in charge,” she announced.
“I assumed you were anyway,” said Miller as he filled the kettle.
“Well, I was in a temporary capacity. But this is official.”
“Are you pleased?” he asked. Ellis thought about the question.
“I don’t know. I told him that I don’t want to do it, but he told me that I was doing it. He told me to resign if I can’t do it.” Miller turned away from the sink where he was filling the kettle.
“No way!”
“Way! So here I am. I thought I might be able to cadge a couple of tips off you?”
“What have the others said?” he asked, referring to Saunders, Worthington and Chapman.
“I don’t know yet. I cleared off. They’ll be okay though, won’t they?” she looked searchingly at her old boss. He scratched his chin.
“They’ll be okay. They’ll try and do your head in, that’s normal. No, they know you’re the natural choice, I wouldn’t worry about it.”
She was grateful for Miller’s reaction to the news. She had half expected him to start shouting “over my dead body!” But now she was here, in front of him, she wondered why she had expected anything other than the way he was reacting.
“Anything new?” he asked.
“A few things. We can’t eliminate the girl who called at Mr Greaves’ place. It wasn’t the victim’s niece.”
One Man Crusade : DCI Miller 1: The Serial Killer Nobody Wants Caught Page 20