Down Among the Dead Men

by Ed Chatterton

  Now Rose has Frank's interest. There's a ripple of noise in the room as it starts to sink in what Rose is saying.

  'Go on.'

  'We know you've got a thing about Noone, so I pushed them for details. The call came from New York. At the time it was made, Ben Noone was in transit at JFK.'

  Steve Rose sits back, his skin flushed.

  'Fuck me,' says Frank. Although filled with potential flaws, it's the first piece of concrete evidence that could positively link Ben Noone to the case. If it can be proved that he made that call on Terry Peters' phone then they have something. Maybe not a watertight case but enough to get the fucker back here and go to work.

  Frank's sure it's Noone. He flashes back to the text he got pointing him back to the tunnels. And didn't Niall McCluskey say he'd lost his phone the night he tailed Noone? Quinner's phone never showed up either. Plenty of phones have been involved in the case but very few are still around. Phones are good. Courts like phones and phone evidence. They're solid, mathematical, scientific. Frank would love to get Noone's phone or evidence relating to Noone's phone.

  'Good work, Steve,' says Frank. Rose smiles and nods. He looks at Phil Caddick and surreptitiously flips him the finger. Rose's potential breakthrough pushes him to the head of the pack of DCs but Corner, Rimmer, Cooper and Magsi look as pleased as he does.

  Harris pats Frank on the shoulder. 'It's enough for an MLAT application,' she says.

  It is enough for Frank to accelerate the MLAT application, enough evidence that Noone could help in the enquiry. Establishing that he had been in possession of a phone linked to both Terry and Nicky Peters, used to access a paedophile chat room, would be devastating.

  'They have a time at JFK?' This could be crucial. A time would allow someone to trawl the CCTV at JFK and place Noone making the call. It's a laborious and complex trail, but it is a possibility, another small but significant brick in Frank's efforts to build a case against Noone.

  'Yes,' says Rose.

  Harris glances at Frank and raises her eyebrows. There's really something in this. A cold Monday morning suddenly got a lot warmer.

  'Let's get cracking,' says Frank.

  Three

  Frank, a black document case in one hand, presses the buzzer with the other.

  'Keane,' he says when prompted by the disembodied voice. There's a click and he pushes open the heavy glass door. He walks through a small atrium and into a modern waiting room. It's empty. The way out of the building is through another exit. Frank's sure this is deliberate.

  The receptionist behind the desk smiles briefly. Frank avoids eye contact.

  'Take a seat, please, Mr Keane.'

  Frank has only just sat down in the chair furthest from the reception desk when the door to one of the office suites opens and the angular frame of Angela Salt appears. She squints round the waiting room like a short-sighted heron.

  'DCI Keane?'

  'Call me Frank, please.'

  She holds the door open for him.

  Angela Salt is a forensic clinical psychologist. Frank had met her briefly in the course of an earlier MIT case and had been impressed. Now he needs a psychologist, he's called her.

  They shake hands.

  'Please, sit down,' says Salt. She indicates one of two comfortable-looking armchairs placed at a slight angle to each other.

  'Thanks.' Frank sits in the armchair Salt indicates. He puts his case down on the floor next to the chair.

  As Salt busies herself at a table laden with teapot and cups she holds up a sugar bowl. 'How do you take it?'

  'Do you have coffee?'

  'Of course.' She walks to the door and, opening it slightly, asks the receptionist to bring drinks. Salt moves methodically, gracefully, with the deliberation of someone who has been tall from an early age.

  Angela Salt is tall, wears glasses and is dressed in a long black skirt and a charcoal sweater with buttons up the front. About sixty, she has her grey hair in a severe cut that puts Frank in mind of someone from the 1920s. Polished black boots peek out from under her skirt.

  Yesterday, after Rose's good news about the phone, Frank had officially booked Salt in as an adviser to the ongoing Peters investigation using some of his precious MIT funds. With the possibility looming that he'll be heading to the US, he wants as much ammunition as possible. A report from a credible forensic psychologist like Salt will be a valuable asset.

  After booking her to come in to MIT, Frank had called and changed the venue to Salt's Bebington office. He's not sure why, completely, but it probably has something to do with any searching questions Salt may ask of Frank. His prior experience of psychologists working on cases has shown him that she may well be interested in his own reactions to Noone. Given his post-tunnels reactions include insomnia, drinking and late-night crying jags, there's a distinct possibility that Salt may stray into areas that Frank does not want explored. Not in the gossip chamber of MIT at any rate. Like most coppers, Frank would rather chew his own arm off than reveal too much of his psyche.

  Christ, there are things in there that even he'd rather not know about. The idea that she may get wind of his troubled relationship with a gay colleague doesn't bear contemplation.

  So Bebington it is.

  Salt takes her seat. She checks her watch and leans back. 'When you're ready, Frank.'

  'I'm applying to go across to Los Angeles and interview a suspect I believe to be responsible, at least in part, for six deaths. The man's name is Ben Noone, an American actor. This man has returned to the US. I'm applying under MLAT – the Mutual Legal Assistance Treaty – which is an agreement between us and overseas government agencies to facilitate evidence gathering. It's basically one step down from straight-out extradition. In other words, his lawyers, and the Americans, will know that we think he's likely to be guilty but don't have enough evidence to extradite. And we don't. The US is also more protective of its citizens in the face of potential extradition by a foreign government than we are. I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but it's bad in this case, at least from our perspective.'

  Angela Salt is taking notes.

  'So what I'm doing is gathering anything I can to take over there. Ideally that will include some sort of psychological profile of who we're looking for.' Frank smiles. 'Which is where you can help.'

  'I can try.'

  Frank pauses as the receptionist comes in with a tray. She puts down the cups on the small table in between the two chairs and leaves. Frank picks up his coffee and takes a sip.

  'I have to tell you that some of the people in my department, particularly my superiors, don't fully share my conviction about Noone. We already have a very credible case against another suspect, Terry Peters, who is now dead. Peters was a sexual predator and there aren't many people who are sad about his passing. Including most of MIT.'

  'But you have doubts?'

  'Yes, I have doubts. And some of them can't be explained away easily.'

  Frank outlines his ideas about the case, placing special emphasis on the use of Terry Peters' phone after his death – from a location consistent with Noone's flight – and on the suspicions of Dean Quinner about Noone. His central idea is that Terry Peters and Ben Noone were both dangerous individuals and were involved in some way with the disappearance of Nicky Peters.

  'Where I differ from some of my colleagues is in thinking that Noone was – is – the more dangerous of the two. It's feasible, to me, that Terry Peters didn't kill anyone, that it is Noone who we should be concentrating our efforts on.'

  'Although from what you tell me, there is considerable evidence that Terry Peters is guilty,' Salt says.

  'He was sleeping with Maddy Peters, that's true. It's also likely that he was abusing his nephew, Nicky. And I personally think he was responsible for taking Nicky underground. He was as guilty as Noone. In my view, Noone, and maybe Terry Peters, killed Paul and Maddy Peters – possibly because of what Noone and Terry had been doing with Nicky.'

  'That could cert
ainly have been a catalyst,' says Salt.

  'I think that Noone killed Dean Quinner because of something he had seen. Or said. Or maybe just because Noone likes killing. And he killed Terry and Alicia to destroy any evidence that remained on Terry's computers.'

  'And Nicky?'

  'I'm not sure that Noone knew exactly where Nicky was. There's evidence that he was moved. I'm suggesting that Terry Peters moved his nephew without telling Noone. Nicky died of suffocation. Murder by neglect.'

  'So why did Noone notify you about Nicky being in the tunnels?'

  Frank shrugs. 'That's your department. I don't think Ben Noone is doing this to a plan.'

  'His notifying you isn't inconsistent with a certain type of psychopathy. He could be reacting to a changing landscape more chaotically than he imagines. If he does have narcissistic personality disorder then he will oscillate between moments of imagined omnipotence and blind panic and rage at being caught. Being caught represents failure and a narcissistic personality of this type doesn't usually contemplate failure. Someone with this psychology may also need to display his cleverness and omnipotence. But we can examine that in more detail as we go on.'

  Frank bends to the document case and places it on the coffee table. He unzips it and takes out a thick file which he pushes towards Salt.

  'The case notes.' Frank hitches the knee of his pants and leans forward. 'Obviously this is just a summary of the main points. If you think we've missed something, just tell me. I had one of my officers boil everything down to this.'

  Angela Salt flicks over the first few pages and then closes it. 'I'll go over this in detail when you're not here, Frank. I think our session time would be better spent talking and getting your input. I can do the background reading and referencing more effectively that way.'

  Frank nods. 'Fine. Whatever works.'

  Angela Salt leans back and crosses her legs.

  'Let's go back over the reaction you had to Noone. The first time you saw him. What happened when he came in?'

  'I had a feeling I'd seen him before but that might have been because he's an actor. Maybe he looks like some other actor. Nice teeth.'

  'How did you feel about him?'

  'As a person? I didn't dislike him. Not at first. He'd already interested me because we couldn't find much on him in the background checks we ran. It was unusual. In the interview room I felt he was performing.'

  'He probably was. Everyone does, even if they don't know it.'

  'He knew it,' Frank says quickly and the psychologist nods.

  'A strong impression, then?'

  'Yes.' Frank keeps nodding as if confirming it to himself. 'It was a performance.'

  'How about your colleague? How did she react?'

  'She liked him.'

  'He was sexually attractive to her?'

  'She's gay. Well . . .' Frank's reply fades and Salt looks up. This is why I wanted to meet here, thinks Frank.

  'Well, what?'

  'Nothing. My colleague's gay. But she told me that Noone was charming. She knew he was manipulating the interview and we discussed how best to prevent that.'

  'Was that successful?'

  'No, not really. Not in the long run.' Frank flashes back to Noone's sly smile of triumph as he and Eagles left the interview room. 'He won.'

  'Let's leave that for a moment and go back to when you first formed the opinion that he was guilty. When was that, exactly?'

  'In that first interview. I had been trying to ask him a question – and that's another thing he's good at, deflecting questions – andthen I asked him something very direct. About him being caught with his pants down by Quinner. He got a look on his face for a second, no more, an angry and unguarded look. It was so different to the face he'd been using that it was like he was someone else. I just knew it was him.'

  'You knew?'

  'I knew it was him. From that moment.'

  'You'd got under his skin. It's hard for someone, even an actor, to maintain control for so long. It can be done. Still, even in this case I'd suggest from what I know that Terry Peters was the more accomplished dissembler.'

  'He had me fooled,' says Frank.

  'But when Noone's mask slipped what you saw was his mammalian brain register your words and display his reaction unfiltered. For a second, your suspect was controlled by his limbic system. It's an incredibly telling event when it happens. We see it in here all the time. Noone was angry, embarrassed, and he let it show in a way that was so direct – to you – that there was a similar limbic reaction from you. The speed with which Noone put the mask back on and assumed his persona of control is a classic demonstration of narcissism.'

  'Go on.'

  'A narcissistic personality has a sense of entitlement and an ongoing need to feel in control. Letting his true self be revealed results in narcissistic rage at being challenged. The return of his control is a signifier of his narcissistic pride being restored.'

  'What about his other behaviours? If what I think is true turns out to be the case?'

  Angela Salt shakes her head. 'Let's keep with what we do know about Noone and see how that stacks up against the template we have for potentially damaging narcissistic behaviours. Noone's an actor, a good role for a narcissist but not in itself an indicator of personality disorder. But it does back your thesis. He's new to the job, but by all accounts, he's very good at it – good enough to have landed the role without experience. That indicates that he's coming from a place where he habitually hides his inner, true self and does it convincingly. He offers the world the version of himself that he'd most like others to see.'

  Salt ticks off a finger. 'He is popular, at least from what you've mentioned regarding his circle at the nightclub that the film crew used.'

  'Maxie's.'

  'Yes. He seems to have had a "circle of worship" to some extent. That is another indicator of narcissism, but again, not necessarily denoting a damaging disorder. I would note, however, that all of the known material is building a reasonable platform for an identity so mired in narcissism that his capacity for empathy is diminished to dangerous levels.'

  Salt breaks off. 'Apologies if some of this comes off like an official report; I'm used to talking this way.'

  Frank smiles. 'Police do it all the time.'

  'Another event I found interesting,' continues Salt, 'was his obtaining a high-priced lawyer from the best firm. Leaving aside the legal implications, from the thesis you've asked me to work on, that is a behaviour consistent with your idea. Getting "the best" is something he would want. And getting it quickly. When you left him in the interview room he will have had another episode of narcissistic rage. This time, once it was over, I'd suggest that he formed a strategy to demonstrate that it was he who was in control, not you. By having an expensive lawyer waiting when you got back, he could gain the upper hand. And, from what you say, that strategy worked. Does he dress well?'

  'Yes, I suppose so.'

  'An obvious question but it's another small pointer.' Salt checks her notes. 'On the movie set, were there any incidents prior to the killings? Thefts?'

  Frank sits up. 'A wallet went missing. Belonged to a sound man.'

  'Interesting.'

  'Why? Did Noone do it?'

  'If he's what we think he is it's credible. Narcissists have a sense of entitlement. And they enjoy risk, believing that they are ahead of the rest of us.'

  'If Noone stole the wallet and Quinner saw him . . .'

  'Is that a question?'

  'I'm just thinking it through. We didn't check the wallet story because it was found.'

  'By Noone?'

  Frank shrugs. 'I'll check.'

  'I'll bet you find it was,' says Salt. She looks at her watch.

  'That's all I have time for, I'm afraid,' she says. 'I have an appointment in ten minutes. I'll read the file thoroughly and start putting some notes together for your submission.'

  Frank gets to his feet and heads for the door.

  'Not that way,' say
s Salt, indicating a second door on the opposite side of the room. 'This is the way out.'

  Frank turns.

  'He's a bad one,' he says, shaking the psychologist's hand. 'I need to get him.'

  Angela Salt smiles but doesn't reply directly. Instead, still holding his hand, she says something that Frank isn't expecting.

  'This must have been a traumatic experience for you, Frank. Finding the boy in the tunnels.'

  Frank drops her hand as if it's hot.

  'Yeah, I suppose so,' he says. 'But it's part of the job.'

  'A very stressful job.'

  'Perhaps.' Frank wants to leave. His shoulders turn towards the door.

  'Have you ever thought about seeing someone, Frank?' says Salt. 'A therapist, I mean.'

  'Me?'

  Salt scribbles a name on a sheet of paper and hands it to Frank. 'You've experienced a lot of trauma recently. Even from the little you've told me, you might benefit from talking to someone. I can't do it, obviously, but I could recommend someone good.'

  'If you can get your report to me as soon as possible.'

  Frank, his neck flushed, opens the door, and with a brisk nod to Salt turns and walks out. As he walks away he feels embarrassed, but isn't sure if that's because the psychologist is out of line, or because he knows she's right.

  He stuffs the paper with the therapist's name on it in his pocket and heads for his car.

  Four

  Despite himself, and despite the occasional expletive-laden rant aimed in his direction, Frank's starting to like Charlie Searle.

  They'll never be drinking buddies or play a round of golf but the longer he's working under him the more Frank can see that there's a decent copper in there. Even at his relatively humble level, Frank has to deal with so much politics that it makes his head swim sometimes. What it's like for Searle is hard to imagine.

  And yet, he keeps his eye on the important stuff. He might be a little too concerned with the press and a little too keen on throwing acronyms around like confetti – and Frank could definitely do without Searle palling around with Peter Moreleigh – but when he analyses the case, Searle's been with him pretty much all the way. The times he hadn't been – well, Frank might have made the same call himself had he been in Charlie Searle's seat.