by Alex Caan
‘Just checking in case there’s anything directly under the body that might get moved when I turn it over,’ she explained. ‘Curious. See here, there’s splash marks on the trouser legs and boots, but the back of the cloak is clean. I think we can rule out the body being dragged to its current location.’
‘The splash marks would suggest the victim was alive at some point in St James’s? Did you check the reading on the KX67? Did it give a reading?’
‘Yes, but it suggested a body temperature of 40.2 degrees. That would be impossible even under normal circumstances. I think it’s met its match in testing. A dislocated ear. I’ll report back to the manufacturer.’
Dr Kapoor took a phone from a pocket of her suit, dialled her team.
‘Look, just show some initiative, and get here somehow. Get taxis and claim them back through expenses. I need this place examined asap. Something isn’t right.’
She tutted when she ended the call.
‘Honestly, they have a combined IQ of thousands, and can give you an academic paper worthy of a doctorate on some of the most complex science around, but when it comes to common sense, I do despair, DCI Riley.’
‘You said something didn’t feel right?’
‘Are you OK to assist me moving the body?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Dr Kapoor covered the gloved hands of the victim in plastic bags. They were positioned as though the victim was asleep, the right hand at ninety degrees and close to the shoulder, the left hand arched at a higher angle over the head. Dr Kapoor put covers over the boots next.
‘The cloak doesn’t seem to have any folds in it, from the back anyway. None of the clothing does. It’s very odd: even if the body had been carried here rather than dragged, there should be something.’
‘You think it was positioned after the act?’ asked Kate.
‘Possibly.’
She motioned Kate over, and asked her to grab the body at shin level. Dr Kapoor took hold of the body at shoulder level, and counted them in. On three they moved the body over onto its back. Kate felt a moment of horror as the masked face stared up at her. Dried blood congealed at the sides where it touched the face, and more blood had spattered down the torso. The ground that had been hidden under the victim was pocked with puddles of more red and brown, where blood had leaked and congealed with the soft earth.
For a moment Kate pictured her mother Jane. And then her father. His orders had led to an assault in which Jane had been physically broken. When Kate had found her after the attack, her mother’s face was a bloody, damaged mess, with pools of red on the wooden floor of their family home. Kate blinked the image away, guilt always palpable that it was her actions that had caused the attack on her mother. Always ready to pinch deep inside.
The front of the body was covered in mud, but Kate couldn’t tell if that meant it had been in contact with the ground by being pulled across it, or if it was just from where it had been lying. Dr Kapoor looked more intently, shook her head. She took out her digicam again and began taking photographs while describing what they could see.
Satisfied she had taken a note of everything, and that her external examination was done, Dr Kapoor put her hands on the mask.
‘Ready to see who we have under here, DCI Riley?’
Kate nodded, as the pathologist began to pull the smiling white plastic off.
Chapter Six
The mask was attached to the head using an elasticated band. Dr Kapoor felt around the back of the skull, and brought the elastic over to the front. The mask made a sucking noise as she gently eased it off, holding it above the face for a few seconds, before moving it aside.
There was absolute silence as the two women stared at the mutilation in front of them. The pathologist’s hands started shaking slightly. She checked the back of the mask, covered in blood, and put it in an evidence bag, hands still not steady. She then began to dictate for the recording. Kate felt her insides move up to her mouth.
‘The victim appears to be male, age difficult to determine in current state. The face is . . .’ Dr Kapoor stopped. Kate didn’t quite know how to describe it either. ‘The face seems to have sunk into itself. The nose is flat, the cheeks have turned into the skull. The eyelids are closed, but further into the sockets than they should be. Blood has leaked from the eyes, the nose and the mouth. There are no obvious signs of actual trauma, no cuts or bruises I can see. There may be more detail during the post-mortem, once the surface plasma has been removed. For now, it appears as though the face has simply collapsed in on itself.’
Dr Kapoor started to feel the body, pressing gently into the torso.
‘What do you think?’ said Kate. ‘What can do that? External trauma?’
‘I’m not sure. If the victim’s face had been battered there would be a lot more bruising, lacerations and it would be much messier. Apart from the blood coming from the eyes, nose and mouth, there doesn’t appear to be that level of physical damage.’
‘Unless it was done with a lot of control?’ Kate had studied the psychopaths of the world as part of her doctorate, she knew all about rituals and obsessions. She had then seen at first-hand how someone could slowly deconstruct another human, taking their time and making sure each contact was one that fulfilled some disgusting need. Whether the perpetrator was a damaged individual or a terrorist. Or a father.
‘Possibly,’ said Dr Kapoor. ‘I just . . . I honestly haven’t come across anything like this before outside a lecture or seminar. I need to get the body back to University College Hospital and do a thorough examination there. I need X-rays, and tox reports and something more . . .’
She stopped mid flow, then started dictating into her suit again.
‘Visual of a raised lump, a blister possibly, to the lobulus auriculae, on the left side.’ She ran her finger over where the left earlobe joined the face, and Kate saw what she was referring to. It looked like a lump, or a giant zit, that had burst. ‘Approximately three centimetres in diameter.’
Kate held her breath, unsure of what, if anything, it meant.
‘I’m breaking with protocol to begin an examination of the body in situ,’ said Dr Kapoor.
The cloak was stitched shut, it was one you pulled over the head, so Dr Kapoor took out small scissors and started to cut the material from the throat down. Kate saw the bits of stubble growing into the skin; definitely male then. The neck was relatively clean, the material must have protected it to some extent.
Dr Kapoor pulled the cloak back, revealing a striped white shirt, which was covered in the unmistakable patterns of blood and viscera. It was tucked in neatly at the waist, which struck Kate as being odd. Dr Kapoor took pictures, before starting to unbutton the shirt. She did it carefully one button at a time, and asked Kate to film as she did, so they had a record of each alteration made to the way they found the body originally. Kate held the camera at an angle, but her eyes were fixed to Dr Kapoor’s hands as they worked. When all the buttons were open, she pulled the shirt back gently.
‘My God!’ breathed Dr Kapoor.
Kate dropped to her knees, and stared. The body was covered in lesions, boils and craters. Some of them had erupted, accounting for the blood that soaked the victim’s shirt. She looked on, sickened by what she was seeing, yet resolved to keep focused. She moved in closer. As she did, one of the boils on the body burst. She felt warm fluid spatter her cheek. Dr Kapoor looked at her intently, a worried expression crossing her face.
Neither of them moved. This wasn’t a stabbing, or anything involving a physical weapon. Kate’s mind reeled at what it might be, second guessing and coming up with theories she didn’t like the feel of.
‘You need to call the Royal Free,’ Dr Kapoor told her. ‘Put them on alert.’
‘The Royal Free? The hospital?’
Kate couldn’t stop the thought entering her head. It was where the Ebola patients had been treated.
Chapter Seven
Zain watched the ambulance
s line up, four of them, on Birdcage Walk. The location reminded him of a different time, meeting Kate Riley, a conversation on a knife edge. He had landed on the blunt side, but still felt cut. He had nearly been killed in a previous case, and knew his recovery was not full enough for him to be back on active duty. Once again rules had been bent for him. Desperation had made him grateful back then. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Not about the role, Unit 3 and most of all not about Kate Riley. She had saved his life, she had given him back his career. He owed her. Still, there was that scene in his head, a night in Winchester when they might have crossed a line, if he wasn’t so messed up. Become more than just colleagues. You couldn’t switch that off. And against all of that, he resented her. He felt as though he owed her a debt, and he would never be able to pay it back. Loyalty and resentment. Zain’s brain just didn’t do normal anymore, and he had given up trying to work it out.
When Kate called him earlier that morning, Zain was at the Accident and Emergency unit at University College Hospital, being checked out for smoke inhalation and minor skin damage caused by flying burning debris. Stevie was being checked out in another cubicle and seemed to be OK. He wasn’t so sure about himself. The heat, the impact of the explosion, losing consciousness for a few minutes.
Kate had been sketchy on details during the call, saying only that a body had been found, and it was being taken to the Royal Free for the autopsy. She asked him to take charge of the investigation once she was there. It was only when he got to the scene that Michelle called him. Michelle Cable was the IT and systems analyst for Unit 3. She had secured Kate a communication channel and it was through this that Zain had been given more details. About suspicious pustules being found on the male victim and as a precaution Dr Kapoor had asked for containment. Nobody was allowed near the scene, only the hazmat team when they got there. And no word of this through any open channels, or normal mobile conversation.
Zain felt insulted, he did understand what covert meant. He had worked for SO15 and GCHQ, he wasn’t some rookie. He had remained on the perimeter of where the victim had been found until the ambulances had turned up.
Inside each ambulance was a Multi-Disciplinary Team of two, wearing deep blue hazmat uniforms. Both members of the MDT had their faces covered with clear plastic helmets. It creeped him out, felt like an overreaction. They didn’t know what they were dealing with. Suspicious pustules on a dead body? Fuck that shit.
The doors of the vehicles began to open one by one, the MDTs assembling in groups, discussing tactics. Zain was told to keep his distance, stay on the perimeter of the park. He couldn’t even see Kate from here. A sliver of worry ran through him for her. He tried to ignore it. Failed. Berated himself for caring so much. She was his boss, nothing more. He didn’t believe that even as he thought it.
‘DS Harris?’
Zain turned to look into a plastic encased face, a man with brown eyes and a wide nose. Every inch of him was covered with something. They must have comms equipment built in, thought Zain, or how else could they be heard or hear him?
‘What’s the plan?’
‘We are going to take our vehicles in. We have a route mapped out, based on the suggested location of DCI Riley and the victim. We are expecting to find three live subjects that need containing, and one deceased subject. Is that your understanding?’
‘Yes, that’s what she said.’
‘Anyone else found in the area will also be contained, let me make that clear.’
‘Fine by me.’
‘My teams will load up the subjects into the vehicles, after which we will proceed to the Royal Free. We will need patrol bikes to clear the traffic before us. Can that be arranged?’
‘Yes, sure, no problem. See what I can do, Doctor . . .?’
‘Apologies, Professor Nick Gerard.’
Top level surgeon, Zain thought. He knew they called themselves professor when they were consultants. A leftover from the days surgery used to be performed by the local butcher.
‘Once we have them back at the Royal Free, we will hold them in isolation units, where the MDTs will treat them. We will run tests, look for any symptoms that might manifest, keep them under observation, give them some psych support. Anything we can to find out exactly what we are dealing with.’
‘Sounds intense. I feel like we should be doing something more? Putting out a national alert, a warning? Telling anyone who was here to check themselves?’
‘Check themselves for what, DS Harris? We have no idea what we’re dealing with yet. Panicking the general populace is not a strategy, it’s the path of creating more problems.’
‘I know that, I’m not an idiot.’
‘I didn’t suggest you were. Public Health England have planned for scenarios like this. We are now going to execute those rigid strategies without emotional interference. So are we OK? Can you get us the security we require?’
‘Yes, no problem.’
‘Good, in that case, we will commence with the extraction.’
Knob, thought Zain. Extract the stick from up your ass first.
‘I’ll just wait here I guess, and follow you to Hampstead.’
Zain felt patronised, but surgeons were built like that he knew. He had enough experience of them, putting him back together over the years. The physical Zain was at least stitched back to some level of functioning normality. But even the best surgeons couldn’t glue back his fractured brain properly.
Professor Gerard walked briskly, updating his blue MDT army, who filed back into their ambulances. The doors closed, and the vehicles started their slow crawl into St James’s Park. Heading to Kate, and the dead body.
Chapter Eight
Kate watched as James Alliack made a call to his wife. His face was pale, and he hadn’t stopped shivering since she had explained to him what was going on.
‘It’s going to take a while, as I was the first officer to respond; I’ll have to go and watch the autopsy and process the case. I might not be back until late. Very late. I’m not sure. I’ll call you and let you know, yeah?’
His eyes looked into Kate’s, but she had no answers for him. She instead watched Dr Kapoor take swabs of the erupted boils and craters, and take the temperature again, this time in the other ear.
‘Listen, give Amy a big kiss from me, OK? Tell her Daddy loves her, and will be home soon,’ said Alliack. ‘And, you . . .’
Kate shot him a warning look, and shook her head.
‘I love you, see you later?’ he said, and ended the call. ‘I will see her later, won’t I?’
‘Of course. It’s just a precaution that’s all. We can’t take any risks, and since all three of us have come into contact with the deceased, it just makes sense.’
She wasn’t convinced it did. There had been thousands of people in the park the night before, and who knew what route the victim had taken to get there. What if the virus was airborne? Imagine the number of people on a London Underground train, or on a bus. She shut those thoughts down quickly; she was being irrational. Dr Kapoor was just being cautious that’s all; it was the professional thing to do. There was no need to jump to conclusions that might cloud her judgement. She would not be the one to fall to pieces today, especially if it turned out to be something else, something innocuous.
She thought of her mother then. How would she cope without Kate there to look after her? That was an emotional punch she didn’t need. In her former life, Kate had turned witness for the FBI against her own father, but he had extracted his revenge when he got the chance. And it was on Jane mainly, because the thugs he had hired had messed up their timing and Kate wasn’t home. The injuries they inflicted on Jane, caused by using a baseball bat repeatedly to her head, had left her with prosopagnosia, the inability to recognise faces. Kate and her mother had been forced into witness protection, but there would be no independence for Jane for the rest of her life, and it was Kate’s duty to care for her. And if there was no Kate, who would? She stifled the guttural emotive resp
onse inside her, and focused instead on the lesions on the deceased’s body.
‘Do they look familiar at all? Have you come across them clinically, or through your academic work?’ Kate asked Dr Kapoor.
‘They look like something medieval, pictures I’ve seen at conferences. I haven’t come across anything like this clinically. And until we know what it is, I think it’s dangerous to give it a name.’
‘Yes of course.’
At least the cheerfulness had gone, and it was professional Dr Kapoor she was working with.
Kate knew the names already. Smallpox, Ebola, plague. Any number of poisons, like Ricin. They could be looking at anything. This could be a biological act of war, or it could be nothing, an unfortunate skin condition that the victim had. Kate wished she thought this latter theory was likely.
‘The body has finally cooled to thirty-seven degrees,’ said Dr Kapoor. ‘That’s what a living person may have.’
‘So it spiked? What might cause that?’
‘I have no idea. Fever of some sort, but I wouldn’t expect it to last once the victim was no longer alive.’
‘And we’re sure he’s not?’
‘Yes.’
Kate saw PC Alliack had sat down, his back to a tree, as he stared out across the park. She didn’t like the phone in his hand, the possibility he might text someone. She walked over to him.
‘Can I take that please?’ she said, holding out her hand. He grasped it close to his chest, and looked at her as though she was about to mug him.
‘For what?’
‘It’s just standard procedure in these circumstances. I’ve asked Dr Kapoor to do the same,’ she lied. ‘Please, Constable.’
Kate had to grab the phone from him as soon as he made the effort to hand it to her. She felt for him. He had been given the supposed easy shift, allowed to stay home when they thought things might get ugly. Instead, he had been plunged into something he couldn’t imagine. She just hoped for all their sakes it was nothing.