by Malcolm Rose
“Think so.”
“Oh?”
Owen sighed. “Someone shouted, ‘White scum!’”
“Mmm,” Luke muttered sadly. He did not express his disapproval because he didn’t want to interrupt the flow of answers. “Male or female?”
“Couldn’t tell. Didn’t hang around to find out.”
“You said shots, not shot. Can you take me to the place? I could use spent bullets.”
Head bowed, Owen muttered, “You stopped us getting hurt in the school, didn’t you?”
“So it seems.”
“Guess I owe you. But I don’t have to take you nowhere.”
“Why’s that?”
When Owen extracted a penknife from his pocket, Malc moved closer to protect Luke, but Luke did not flinch. He’d already decided that the boy was harmless. Owen bent down and used the penknife to flick a chunk of metal out of the rubber of his sole. Standing up again, he let the bullet drop into Luke’s open palm.
Luke beamed. “Thanks. That’s fantastic. And amazing. You were lucky. A couple of centimetres higher and you wouldn’t have been running anywhere.”
“Why do you want it?”
“You don’t want people shooting you on the walkways, do you?”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“I’m on a case – someone at Thomas’s Hospital was shot soon after you left. It could be the same rifle. I need to check the bullet out.”
“You’re lucky as well, then. Lucky I left it in my shoe.”
“Yeah. Have you got anything else for me?”
“Maybe.”
“What?” Luke asked.
“An address on a piece of paper.”
Luke frowned. “Is it anything to do with you getting shot?”
Owen shrugged, hesitated, and then changed his mind. “Sure it is. What are you offering for it?”
It was clear to Luke that Owen was on the make. He was better at spotting a business opportunity than a significant clue. “I’ll offer to stop Malc drilling a second hole in your hand with his laser.”
Owen paused, unsure of himself, and then said, “You’re kidding me. That’s against the law. Isn’t it?”
Malc interrupted. “Confirmed.”
“All right,” Luke said with a wry smile. “Give me the address – just in case it’s important – and I’ll not have you arrested for withholding evidence. How’s that for a deal? It’s the best you’ll get.”
Owen shuffled from foot to foot for a few seconds before caving in. He fished around in his pockets until he found the strip of paper and then handed it to Luke.
By lamplight, it looked like a page from a small notepad. Someone had written ‘72 Russell Plaza’ on it in blue ink. Luke knew it was useless to ask Malc to scan the message or to analyse the handwriting or the ink because Owen had interfered with it and it could never be linked for sure with any crime. “Where did you get it?”
“In Tottenham Court. Blew into me just before the firing started. Maybe it’s another reason I got shot. I don’t know.”
“Where did it come from?”
“Didn’t really see. I was more interested in getting away.”
Luke slipped it into his own pocket. “Thanks. I’ll look into it. Anything else you can tell me? Anything at all?”
Owen shook his head, but then he had second thoughts. “How old are you? Sixteen, seventeen?”
“Sixteen.”
“Young for an investigator.”
“So?” Luke prompted.
“You’re the same as me really. Same sort of age, both on our own in London. I’ve helped you. You should help me now.”
“I thought we were quits already. What are you after?”
Owen smiled for the first time. “A clean identity card.”
Luke nodded. “I can’t promise. And anyway, how would I get it to you?”
Owen thought for a moment. “Cleo McGrath’s all right, I suppose. I’ll keep in touch with her. She’s got an address, a card and all. You can find me through her.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do. And I’ll tell The Authorities you were helpful.”
“Can I go?”
Luke nodded. “Take care.”
Owen took a few paces, but then stopped and turned back. “You’re a pretty good runner yourself,” he said, “but you cheated.”
Luke grinned at him. “Yeah. I’m known for it. But I prefer to call it using all the tools available to me.”
****
Back at Clement School, firefighters had put out the flames and obliterated any traces of the person who had tried to make an inferno of the place – and the white community inside. Some of them still lingered outside, unable to take in what had nearly happened.
Seeing Luke’s return, Cleo went up to him right away. “Now will you investigate?” she said, waving a hand towards the smouldering school.
“I don’t know. I need to follow up a couple of things Owen’s given me. But, if there’s a link with my own case, yes, I’ll ask for it.”
Cleo nearly jumped on him in her enthusiasm. “Good. After all, this wasn’t arson. It was attempted mass murder.”
Malc replied, “That would be the case only if the arsonist acted deliberately, knowing that there were people inside.”
Cleo ignored Malc. Talking to Luke, she said, “Do you doubt for one second that whoever set it on fire knew we were inside?”
“It fits the pattern,” Luke replied. He walked away, saying, “I’ll get back to you.”
Chapter Twelve
In the makeshift laboratory of his hotel room, Luke placed Owen’s bullet on a small set of scales to record its weight. He stood it on its base so that Malc could measure its precise dimensions and scan its markings.
Malc reported, “This is a nine-millimetre calibre bullet, rifled with six grooves, inclined to the right.”
“Has anyone else reported the same rifling marks on any other bullets?”
“Processing.”
Luke jolted in surprise when a branch, bent by the wind, slapped against his window while rain continued its steady drumming on the glass.
“Today,” Malc announced, “identical marks were found on a bullet of the same calibre recovered from the chamber of the London Pairing Committee.”
“What?” Luke cried.
“Identical striations were...”
“Yes,” said Luke. “I heard. I’m just... taking it in. You said a bullet. But there were three shots, not one.”
“It was the bullet that killed Shetal Darke. It passed right through her body. The second and third bullets have not yet been extracted from the bodies of the other two victims.”
“So, whoever fired at Owen Goode gunned down the Pairing Committee.”
“That is likely, but not confirmed. It is possible to conclude only that the bullets were discharged from the same rifle barrel.”
“And Anna Suleman may well have been shot with a nine-millimetre calibre rifle.”
“Correct. However, without the bullet, there is no proven link to her murder.”
Luke nodded. “I know. I’m cracking every case but my own.”
“That is an exaggeration,” Malc said in his emotionless voice.
“First thing tomorrow – after I’ve tested one of those pomegranates – we’re going to 72 Russell Plaza. Who knows whose case I might solve there?”
Malc’s mention of pairing reminded Luke that he needed to talk with Jade. To prepare himself, he went to his bedroom and lay down in the dark. “Malc. The usual image on the ceiling, please. And give me Jade’s latest chill-out music, volume twelve.”
For ten minutes, Luke let her soothing electronic melody wash over him as he watched the stars in the virtual sky that Malc projected onto the ceiling. Then he said, “That’s better. Fade to volume two and connect me to Jade, please. Speech only.” This time, he couldn’t bear to show himself or to see her face.
Her voice boomed over the music, “Hiya, Harding!”
>
“Hi. I’m just listening to your stuff. What can I say?”
“You could say perfect, genius, or just plain old brilliant if you’re feeling critical.”
“It’s all of those.”
“You sound a bit grumpy,” Jade said. “Do you get pomegranate breakfasts down there?”
“Yes and no. The hotel was a bit surprised. Never had an order for them before...”
Jade interrupted with a giggle. “Proof the place is primitive.”
“Eating them’s a minority sport. Anyway, it’s okay because I’m getting them shipped down from Birmingham.”
“Anything to keep a top forensic investigator happy, eh?”
“That’s one advantage of the job,” Luke replied. “I might as well milk it.”
Bluntly, Jade asked, “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on,” she said. “I don’t have to be in the same room to hear an edge in your voice.”
“Your ears are just too good.” Luke paused and then said, “Did you get that sound recording I sent?”
“You want me to do your job as well as mine now, eh? Anyway, I’m still working on it. It’s tricky. The noise of the gun going off covers up just about everything else, but I haven’t given up. I’ll tell you if I get anything.”
“Thanks. It’d really help.”
“That wasn’t what you were calling about.”
“No,” Luke admitted. “It’s the Pairing Committee result.” There was a sudden silence from Sheffield. “They agreed with Birmingham about Georgia.”
Jade sighed. After a few seconds, she said, “It’s not exactly a shock, is it? Even so...”
Making them both jump, Malc butted in to their conversation. “Strictly, the Pairing Committee was not able to ratify the arrangement so it is not yet official.”
“Why not?” asked Jade, grateful yet puzzled.
“It sounds like fantasy,” Luke answered, “but someone burst in and shot three of them.”
“What?”
“You’re working on the case. That’s where the sound came from.”
Plainly staggered, she repeated, “What?”
“I know. It’s crazy but that’s what happened.” Trying to lighten the mood, he added, “And it wasn’t me.”
“You said London’s got its good points. From up here, they’re not obvious.”
“What about you? When does the Sheffield committee meet?”
“I don’t know exactly, but it won’t be long. Let’s face it, that won’t be good news either.” Jade paused before adding, “But I doubt if they’ll be mown down.”
****
A dense layer of grey cloud was lumbering across the morning sky when Luke unlocked 72 Russell Plaza with his identity card. He pushed the rickety door open slowly, not knowing if anyone lived there. But, as soon as he peered inside, he realized that the place had been abandoned. It smelled damp and the only pieces of furniture in the main room were four long wooden benches. Staying in the doorway, Luke could see that the window looked out on a small cluttered park that had become wild. Inside, the wall to the left of the window was cracked from the floorboards to the ceiling.
Luke did not contaminate the scene by entering. “Malc, go in and scan everything.” While the mobile went about his work, Luke closed his eyes and breathed in deeply through his nose. Behind the mustiness, there was something familiar. “Analyse the air. What do you smell?”
“There are several odour-producing chemicals.”
“I think there’s something I’ve come across before on this case.”
“You may be detecting traces of diallyl disulphide. It is highly pungent.”
“Garlic again. Like on the auto-barge.”
“Correct.”
With his tongue, Luke yanked a pomegranate seed out from between two of his teeth and swallowed it. Hearing excited cries behind him, Luke turned and watched three boys chasing a fox across the buckled freeway. Concentrating on the room again, he examined it for a few minutes while Malc continued to sweep across it, recording everything. “What’s that in the corner? Piles of paper?”
“There are two different pamphlets,” Malc answered. “You already have a copy of one that denounces whites. The second condemns the pairing process.”
“Interesting,” Luke muttered to himself. “So, this must be where the Visionaries met. That fits.” He hesitated before adding, “They don’t like whites and Owen was shot. They don’t like pairing and the London Pairing Committee was massacred. Then there’s Anna Suleman. Makes you wonder what they think of doctors.”
“I have collected some fragments of skin from the area in front of the bench.”
“Skin?”
“Testing. It is non-human.”
“Have you recorded the lot now?”
“Confirmed.”
“Good.” Luke slipped on gloves and walked into the room for the first time. He went straight to the stacks of leaflets but, before he took a copy of each, he hesitated. One of the pamphlets at the top was wrinkled as if it had got wet. Curious, he looked up but saw no sign of water seeping from the ceiling or walls. “Malc, what’s been on this leaflet?”
“Unknown. But there is a trace deposit of DNA. Saliva is a possibility.”
Luke frowned. “Someone’s dribbled on it? Weird. Unless it was a baby, I suppose. Can you get a DNA fingerprint?”
“Not here. I need to amplify the traces in a laboratory first.”
Waiting for Malc to complete his tests on the fragments of skin, Luke put the crinkly paper into an evidence bag and then read the second pamphlet. There were some ideas – criminal ideas – that caught Luke’s eye. Visionaries believed that the choice of a partner should have everything to do with love and nothing to do with absurd committees.
Luke glanced at Malc and said, “You’re taking a long time.”
“There are samples of skin from two non-human species. I am attempting to identify both.”
“Two? They were running an animal sanctuary in here.”
“Unlikely,” Malc replied.
Getting down on his hands and knees, Luke remarked, “There are some hairs as well.”
“Seventy-two detected. Some appear to be identical so they are not from seventy-two different individuals but they are all human and female.”
“No men’s?” Luke paused, thinking. “Those two boys who gave me the leaflet had shaved heads. Maybe male Visionaries cut all their hair off for some reason. That’s a convenient belief if they’re doing something illegal – and a nuisance for an FI.”
“The two skin types are from a rattlesnake and sheep,” Malc announced.
Luke grimaced. “That’s a funny combination.”
“I am not equipped to understand humour.”
“You’re not so good with language either,” Luke retorted. “People feed snakes with rats, squirrels and rabbits. They’d be pushing their luck to get one to swallow a sheep.” His mind went back to the contents of the auto-barge and he asked, “Is there anything else that says sheep have been in here, like droppings or grass or something?”
“No.”
“How about woollen fibres?”
“Yet to be confirmed but there appear to be several.”
Luke grinned. “Woollen fibres and skin but no other signs of sheep. Sounds like someone in a sheepskin coat to me. Maybe one stolen from the barge by a garlic-loving bandit.”
“Speculation.”
“Look,” Luke said, making up his mind what to do, “You could be analysing things in here all day...”
“It will take four hours and eleven minutes more, approximately.”
“Yeah. And I want you working on the DNA from this leaflet. So, call in The Authorities to bag it all up, deliver the lot to my quarters, and seal the room in case I want to come back. After all, it might not have anything to do with Anna Suleman and we’re just wasting time.”
****
It took Malc three hours to isolat
e and replicate the dried DNA from the leaflet, but it was worth the effort. “I have a DNA profile,” he reported to Luke eventually.
“Run a comparison with London’s database. If there’s no match, use national criminal collections.”
Several minutes later, Malc said, “No match.”
Luke sighed. Then, in a moment of inspiration, he said, “Log on to Thomas’s Hospital again, then. Check it against their medical files.”
It took only seconds this time. “There is an almost perfect match with two patients.”
“Two patients?” Luke sat up to attention. “But that’s not possible. Everyone’s got a unique...” He stopped and smiled broadly. “The twins. The Toback boys. They’ll have identical DNA.”
“Correct,” Malc replied.
It was for moments like these that Luke was a forensic investigator. He was almost shivering with pleasure. At last, he could see a link. Dr Anna Suleman – the first victim – had operated on the Toback twins in Thomas’s Hospital. The Toback family seemed to be part of The World Church of Eternal Vision whose members hated Pairing Committees and white people. And Luke suspected that an out-of-control Visionary had slaughtered most of the London Pairing Committee and attempted to murder the white Owen Goode.
“You got information on Rachel Toback yesterday,” Luke said to Malc. “Did it include her address?” He held his breath.
“Confirmed.”
Luke grinned. “Great! Grab your coat, Malc. We’re off out.”
“I do not have or require a coat.”
Chapter Thirteen
Just north of Euston Plaza, Cranleigh Walkway was dammed with weeds, bushes and trees. At one end, crumbling buildings had long since lost their roofs. They were home only to bats, rats and foxes. Yet, at the other end, the tall terraced houses were in good order. Rachel Toback occupied a small, clean and comfortable set of rooms on the top floor. She was seventeen, very thin and timid. She wasn’t wearing make-up, her hair was tangled, and her clothes were plain.
Luke introduced himself and sat down in the seat that Rachel offered him.
“What’s this about?” Rachel said, tension written all over her face.
Luke extracted the two pamphlets from the pocket of his coat. “Do you recognize these?”