Elaine saw no choice but to take the bait. Evan was clearly doing a bit of grandstanding, but he deserved the spotlight. She gave him a wry smile. “I hope you aren’t considering doing anything that could get us in trouble. Talk to me first.”
Evan grinned. “Right, Chief. And no, it’s nothing dodgy; we’ll go at him from a different angle. We’ve already got Sheila’s, Geri’s, and Greene’s call records for the last four months. We’ll cross reference them for his number. I’d love to have Anton’s and Janko’s records, but I don’t have enough justification yet to request them. With any luck, if he called them, he wasn’t using a prepaid phone. Having a few more eyes to do that would speed it up.”
“Paula, assign someone to help with the phone records and get his photo out to the uniforms. We need some eyes on the IRG offices. Find someone besides Liz to partner with Bull on the surveillance.” She saw Bull and Liz exchange a look. “And Paula, come see me after you’ve done that.”
There were more actions to consider. She looked at the sergeant who handled their liaison with other police units. “More to do. Get his picture and passport information to all rail, ferry, and airport officers with orders to be detained. Then contact regional police forces and get the word out that we want him. Make sure they all understand that even though we don’t have a hard reason to think he has firearms, we do have reason to believe that he knows how to use a knife. So he is to be treated as dangerous.”
Everyone in the room was grim-faced, silent, and focused. They lived to collar murderers. “Anything else? Right, then. We know our quarry. He’s a killer, and the sooner we catch him, the sooner we can breathe easier. Let’s hunt him down.”
Some minutes later, Elaine called Paula to her office. “Who did you put on the phone records?”
“Barker. She didn’t like it and put up a squawk about wanting to be on the surveillance team. I set her straight. Danilo knows her, and it wouldn’t take him long to spot her red hair. I put Simon with Bull on building coverage. I’ll go over it with them in a minute.”
“She’ll get over it. Tell Simon and Bull to be very discreet.”
“Right. Chief? What about Liz? Do you think he might go after her?”
Elaine shook her head. “It’s a possibility, but I can’t assign someone to watch her ’round the clock. Sit her down and give her a talk about safety. Make sure she understands that she could be in danger. She’s had the self-defense training?”
“Up to date on self-defense, and I heard she’s taken some Krav Maga lessons. Bull is an ex-Royal Marine—Forty Commando—so I’ll suggest that he keep an eye on her.”
“He’ll eat from your hand forever if you do that. Okay. It’ll have to do. Verify the KM with her, and when you do, put some fear into her. Remind her that this is a murder and we’re hunting a killer. We have to assume that he’s had military training. Nearly all these Eastern European gangsters are ex-military or paramilitary. Suggest that she stay at a friend’s place until we nick this guy.”
“I’ll have the talk. Maybe she and Bull will enjoy more time together. What do you want to do about Greene? More pressure?”
Elaine smiled to herself. Paula didn’t miss anything. “No, we’ll pull back from Greene for now. Give him some space. If he gets a notion he’s being followed, he’ll run to the Sreckos, and I don’t want to tip them off. I want to be the first copper to see the look on their faces when we walk through their front door.”
* * *
It required two sets of eyes to observe the office block that housed the IRG offices: one set to cover the main front entrance and the other set to watch the entrance to the multistory car park and the small service area in the rear, which was used mainly for deliveries and utility vehicles. If Danilo appeared, he would either enter the building through the car park or park in the service area in the rear. Simon had assigned Bull to watch the front entrance, with instructions to look for both Danilo and Greene. He stationed himself on the side street, where he could see the other two entrances. This was the afternoon of the second day, and their quarry had not entered or left the building. At least, he hadn’t while they were on duty from six in the morning until six in the evening.
The boy could have been on holiday or on assignment. Perhaps he was coming and going outside of business hours. It did no good to speculate. He hadn’t shown up, and Simon was concerned that they were wasting their time. The guv needed some kind of result. It was time to take action.
Simon had noticed that two office workers were in the habit of taking a smoke break on the back loading dock about every two hours. He checked his watch. It was almost four, so they were due. Sure enough, they appeared at a few minutes past the hour. He tore a sheet from his notebook, scribbled the IRG address on it, and walked toward them.
“Good afternoon, mates. I’m wondering if you could help me. I’m looking for a company called IRG. Is this the building? I have a job interview with them tomorrow, and I wanted to make sure I have the right place. No point in getting lost and being late, is there?” He pulled out the sheet of paper and showed it to them.
“Yeah, that’s it, they’re here. Take the lift.”
“Right, then. Do either of you work for them?”
“Wouldn’t work for those shites. They keep to themselves mostly. Always seem out of sorts. You know, not very friendly.”
“Really? I ran into one of them in a pub the other day. He seemed nice enough. We got to talking, and I told him I was looking to change firms. I’m an estate agent, you know, and he said they may have something. You might know him. Young guy, footballer type, a few inches taller than me, short hair, sort of skinny. Seemed like a nice bloke.”
The two men looked at each other and laughed. “Well, then you don’t know him well, do you?”
Simon did his best to look taken aback. “Only met him the once. Like I said, we met in a pub, and he gave me this address. Is there something I ought to know about him?”
“He’s one to steer clear of. Isn’t he, Ben?” The speaker looked at his companion, who shook his head and took up the story.
“That’s right. The way he came out of here last week, I thought he’d take on the both of us, right here. And we didn’t do nothing.”
Better and better. Simon moved a bit closer and raised his eyebrows. “Really? What happened?”
Ben was only too happy to tell him. “We were standing here, minding our business, enjoying a smoke, when he comes busting through that door there like he wanted to take the bloody building down.” He pointed to a set of double steel doors. “Nearly knocked Steve here on his arse. The way he acted, you would have thought we were the ones who knocked him about. He got all belligerent. Balled up his fists and shouted at us. Called us right fuckers, didn’t he, Steve?”
“Did he start a fight?”
“Wish he had. We was ready, and we’d have taught him a good lesson if he pressed us. He made a fuss, then he got in one of those vans there and drove off.” He pointed to two white Transits parked near the brick wall at the rear of the service area.
Simon put on a wide-eyed and impressed look. “What did you do when he came back?”
“Haven’t seen him. Come to think of it, there’s usually three of those vans parked there, but the one he took hasn’t been there since then.”
Yes, thought Simon. Keep it going. “How do you know? I mean, how do you know that one is missing?”
“It has a scraped wing on the off-side. You know, like it ran up against a wall or something. It’s been like that a while and not been fixed. Typical of that lot.”
“Maybe he was the one who mashed it and took it to the garage to get it mended.”
“P’raps. Look, mate, we need to get back. Our break’s over.” The two men tossed the ends of their cigarettes in a nearby bucket.
“Right. Well, thanks for the help and the tip. I’ll probably still show up tomorrow and do the interview. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah.” The two men
nodded and went inside, leaving Simon alone.
He waited a few seconds to be sure they were gone, then walked across the tarmac to the two white Transits. A cursory inspection through the windscreen revealed clipboards and papers on the seats, tools, paint, and other builder’s supplies in the back. There was nothing out of order with them. He jotted the number plate for each on his paper and pulled out his mobile as he walked to his car. Bull answered on the first ring.
“I did a little nosing with a couple of blokes who work in the building. It looks like our Danilo hasn’t been here in a few days, and I don’t think he’ll be here any time soon. I think he’s done a runner or gone to ground somewhere. I’m going to call the guv and report in. I suspect we’ll be off this and back to the nick before long. I’ll let you know.”
He rang off. The guv never liked bad news, but at least he’d uncovered something concrete they could follow. How many white Transit vans are there in London? Eight or ten thousand? Probably twenty-five or thirty thousand in the country, at least. White Transits proliferated like rabbits. Oh, well, Evan can sort that out. We have to find one with a scraped wing. He punched the speed-dial button for Elaine.
TWENTY-SIX
As soon as Simon and Bull returned, Elaine gathered together the team members who were in the incident room.
“Good work, Simon. We need a break. Evan, find out who owns those vans. Everything you can about them. I bet it’s that Cumbrian or Grampian or whatever company that IRG uses for its leased equipment. Then find out what other vehicles are registered in their name. Not just Transits, the full lot. Audis, Mercs, BMWs, all the way down to a G-Wiz or a motorbike if they have them. Also, when you find the other Transits, see if any have been involved in a minor shunt. When you find it, get the number plate and registration to Paula.”
She looked at Paula. “Get this out to uniform. We’re not only looking for Danilo; we’re looking for a white Transit with a damaged left wing.”
“Wait a minute, guv.” It was Bull. “Suppose they have some kind of registry of cars for that building? You know, like we have to register our personal cars here at the nick, so they know which cars are allowed in? Would the building manager have something like that?”
“Simon, did either of those vans have a parking lot badge? Some kind of sticker on the windshield?”
“Didn’t notice, guv, but we could go back and look.”
Elaine considered. “We can’t afford to have the Sreckos know we’re snooping around. Let’s let Evan see what he can find. If he comes up empty, we’ll think about doing that. And let’s pull away from the building for now. If Danilo’s disappeared, it’s because we spooked them last time. If they get a whiff that we’re on to them, he’ll be out of the country before we know it. First thing tomorrow morning, I want the two of you back on Greene. Evan, anything from the phone records yet?”
“Not yet, guv, but we should have all the permissions from Slovenia and the local carriers by tomorrow. Europol put some pressure on the Slovenians.”
“Excellent. We’ll get the team together at eight in the morning. Paula? Evan?” She nodded her head toward her office.
When they were all seated, Elaine opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a bottle of single malt whisky and three glasses. She poured each a shot of the whisky. “A perk of being a DCI. Nobody else noses around in your desk.” Once they had all sampled the liquor, she asked, “How’s Liz coming along? I didn’t want to ask with the others around, especially Bull.”
Paula gave a knowing smile. “So you noticed that too? I suggested that she find another place to stay, and a few minutes later I saw them talking.” She laughed. “He looked a bit scared. More than she did.”
Elaine placed her empty glass on the desk. “More power to both of them. I’d feel safe with him around. He’s pretty intimidating. Find out for sure, eh? If she’s nervous about admitting it, let her know that it’s not a problem. Evan, how’s Liz doing on the phone records?”
“Just fine. She grumped for the first hour, but now she’s moving pretty fast.”
“Good. Maybe she’s trying to prove something.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
It was quiet in the squad room at night, a good time to think. Elaine turned her chair away from her desk and gazed out the window. It had been dark for an hour, so she could see little but the reflection of herself and her office. She turned off the light and closed her door.
That was better. From her window on the twentieth floor of the Empress State Building, she could look north over much of London, past the dark pool of Hyde Park and the traffic moving along Bayswater Road, past the cosmopolitan hotels of Mayfair, and farther north past Regent’s Park. To the right, almost out of her view, she could see the blazing lights of Emirates Stadium.
Beyond the stadium and to the west was Crouch End. Farther west was Highgate. What was Peter doing tonight? Perhaps he was on duty at the A&E. But if not, maybe he was sitting in that big chair she had seen in his bedroom, looking out his large window toward central London. Where she sat.
She leaned against the tall back of her chair. Peter was a strange duck, wasn’t he? She had been his adversary at the moment they met. She had invaded his home, ripped him away from it, and locked him in a cell. She had said terrible things to him, tried to strip his soul to get at the truth. Her efforts had cost him his job and quite possibly destroyed whatever professional ambitions or dreams he had held. Then, when he proved fruitless to her goals, she had dumped him at his empty home and left him to try to rebuild the shambles of his life.
And after all that, with the exception of occasional anger and the nightmare, he had taken it in stride. Despite everything, he hadn’t blamed her personally or seriously lashed out. When his purgatory was over, he had approached her and offered her a tentative fingerhold for friendship, if she wanted it. He clearly wasn’t afraid of strong women. He was brave enough to take the first step and decent enough to give her space to decide.
Was it some misplaced sense of culpability, a bit of unwarranted guilt about how Benford—and she—had disrupted his life that made her indecisive?
She would have been attracted to him if they had met under better circumstances. As it was, she knew him deeper, sooner, than if they had met in some other way. Maybe she needed to take a chance at developing a relationship. He wasn’t a murderer. That much she knew. She could wipe the slate clean of the unpleasant bits, couldn’t she? It appeared that he had.
They had certainly clicked at the pub. She hadn’t felt so comfortable, so natural, in a man’s presence in years. She had felt immediately that, with him, she could be herself. She could open up and not fear being judged. She had felt free.
She needed to let him know whether or not she was going to his sister’s birthday dinner. Kate, wasn’t it? She’d be damned if she was going to weasel out of it, but it was a family gathering, and she wasn’t ready for that. Perhaps he’d agree to meet sooner. She picked up her mobile from the desk and scrolled to his number in her contact list. Ha! She had added him after she had gotten home from their evening in the pub, so she had known then that she was going to call him. She tapped twice and, in a few seconds, heard the warble at the other end. Two, three, four times.
“How are you tonight?” His voice was quiet and soft. She could hear his breathing over the connection. She thought she could also hear his heart beating but then realized it was her own.
“Ready to leave the office. I’m calling about Kate’s birthday.” She paused. “That is, if you were serious about that.”
She heard him exhale, and a second later, “Of course I was. It’s only an informal family get-together. Nothing fancy.” He paused. “No implications, either way.”
“That’s it, don’t you see? It’s family, and you and I don’t have much of a track record yet. There are implications, like it or not.”
“I see. Yes. I guess it’s too soon to meet the mother and big sister.” He was silent for three or four bre
aths, then spoke. “Are you wondering if I carry any hard feelings?”
“We’ve only met each other socially one time. Your mother and sister might be understanding, but they’re going to have questions. I don’t think they’d hold me in very high regard. Perhaps I need to be a bit more sure of myself.” She hesitated. “And yes, I can’t help but think you’re carrying anger. I need to be sure of you.”
“Okay. The birthday is still a month away. I’m off tomorrow and the next day. Maybe we can talk about how we feel over a curry and maybe a walk if the weather is clear?”
She exhaled in relief. “That would be nice. All right, then, tomorrow evening? You understand that I may get a call at any time. I’m never really off work, you know.”
“I know. But we can think positive thoughts. I know I will. I’ll ring you.”
“Yes, talk to you then. Oh, tell me something. Where were you when I called? I mean exactly?”
“At home. In my bedroom. Sitting in my chair catching up on some journals. Why?”
“Just wondering.” She rang off and took another look out the window toward Highgate as she retrieved her jacket from the back of her chair. She stopped and sat back down, digesting the insight that, in that moment, had risen to the surface of her brain. Then she walked to the map on the wall of the incident room. She wanted a visual aid to help think it through.
There was the red pin marking Peter’s home. She removed it. An inch to the east and a bit south was another red pin, the Khoury’s high street shop and the spot where Sheila had gotten off the bus. Her vision tracked to the right, east toward the yellow pin on Downham Road in De Beauvoir Town, where Bull had lost his tail on Greene. Farther east, in Newham, was a cluster of yellow pins marking the supermarket and shops where Greene had stopped to buy groceries, Greene’s office, and the knocking shop where he had picked up the young woman.
She turned to the series of pictures that Bull had taken. In one, Greene and the woman stood in the parking lot of the supermarket, placing several full bags of groceries into the boot of Greene’s car. In the next, they were getting into the car.
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