Out of the Ashes

by Vicky Newham

  MONDAY

  8 a.m.

  She opened her eyes and he was there again, a face above hers and a horrible smell. Her head was swimming and she couldn’t move.

  ‘A bit more,’ the man shouted. ‘She’s nearly there.’

  She was in a tunnel, with whooshing water, trying to crawl.

  ‘One more dose,’ said another voice. ‘That’ll do it.’

  And right there, she knew.

  She was going to die.

  Maya, 8.30 a.m.

  By the time briefing kicked off, my head was pounding from lack of sleep and the pace of events in the last three days. Dougie and I had been out looking for Ali until just before eleven last night, and we finally collapsed into bed around midnight. Six in the morning saw me back in the alleys where supermarkets and restaurants dumped their waste food – all to no avail. Dozens of people recognised my description of Ali, but no-one had seen him for several days.

  I was finding it hard to suppress my growing unease, but right now, we had three murders to solve and adrenaline was my ally. ‘Morning, everyone,’ I said. ‘We now have Ryan’s murder to investigate alongside the refocussed arson investigation. Shen, I gather we’ve finally got news on our UnSub.’ The intel had just come through, and Shen had picked it up.

  Everyone’s eyes fell on the youngest member of the team.

  ‘No-one fitting her description has been reported missing in Essex,’ she said. ‘The lab still can’t identify her individual DNA because none of the samples provided enough strands. However, there is a close enough match to a sample already on the database to suggest a family connection. A man called Barry Turner, currently in HMP Berwyn. He has a wife called Sharon, who lives in Romford.’ Shen wrote Sharon and Barry’s addresses on the board.

  ‘So, where are we now?’ I asked Shen.

  ‘Still trying to contact the mum. There’s a uniformed officer on his way to Wales to request an interview with the father. The daughter’s name is Kelly, and she hasn’t married or changed her surname.’

  ‘Well done.’ Relief soared in me, and I yanked the cap off a board-marker, rubbed ‘UnSub’ out with my thumb and wrote KELLY TURNER above her photograph. ‘Finally, she has a name. Can you pass that on to the analysts? They’ll check Kelly’s social media. Registers, hospitals, social security. The lot.’

  ‘Thanks, Boss. Will do.’ She shone with pride. ‘We’ve had a development from H-2-H too.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘An eyewitness saw a young woman climb into one of the back gardens on the soup shop side of the street at lunchtime on Friday. Old bloke called Arthur Monro. He’s in his seventies and often walks his dog along the alley.’ She checked her notepad. ‘He isn’t a hundred per cent sure it was the soup shop back garden, as they all have tall panel fences and wooden gates, and from a distance many of them look the same. He said he’s seen her before. I’m following this up.’

  ‘Maybe she’s Kelly Turner?’ Alexej’s face was hopeful. ‘I’ve got progress too. We’ve received the CCTV from Alchemia and the techs are looking for whoever carved the star on Rosa’s shop, and we now have a description of the male that the shift-worker has seen in the alley behind Rosa’s shop.’ He pointed at an e-fit image on the board. ‘IC1. Twenties, over six feet and thin.’

  ‘That’s definitely not Kenny. He’s in his forties.’ I caught the disappointment in Jackie’s tone.

  ‘No, but I do have an update on Kenny,’ said Alexej. ‘He’s the person who’s been posting on LfA as “s10s”.’

  ‘I bloody knew it,’ Jackie screeched. ‘I knew that low-life scumbag was involved in all this. We’re going to get him. I can feel it.’

  Hayes’ surly features scowled from his mugshots on the board. Next to him, his teenage brother’s face looked equally angry.

  ‘They’ve tracked Kenny’s username to an email address and regular internet activity.’ He paused. ‘There’s been private messaging between Kenny and Frazer. Frazer is the person that people first have contact with and s10s is the person who provides the flash mob venue and time. We’re still working on Frazer’s email address. He’s either extremely clever at masking his identity or knows someone who is. His email goes through a proxy system and three re-routers, one of which is via Columbia.’

  Dan looked at the ceiling in frustration.

  ‘It doesn’t mean any connection with Columbia necessarily,’ Alexej continued. ‘There are various countries which people use to divert their ISPs to, and Columbia is one of them.’ He took a breath. ‘Unfortunately, people often share user profiles and log-ins on these forums. They know it makes it harder for their activity to be traced. Frazer’s first post since before the arson, the one he put up yesterday, said this:

  ‘“Stealth, my friends. This is how we will win. The deniers are after us, spreading their fake news and propaganda, but with your help, they won’t stop us. Keep recruiting to the LfA family and ignore the lies. Gentrification is real. Social action is the law of the streets. Keep your eyes and ears peeled.”’

  ‘As much as that post is a load of bullshit, it’s not written by someone illiterate,’ I said. ‘My guess is it was written by the same person who posted the other gentrification stuff.’ I studied the images on the board. ‘So, given s10s is Kenny, I reckon Frazer is his brother, John. Sophie Williams said John’s doing a vocational course in Digital Technologies.’

  ‘Putting his studies to good use, by the looks of it,’ Jackie grunted. ‘I agree. There’s no way that gentrification stuff was written by Kenny Hayes.’ Her tone was as unequivocal as her words. ‘His writing is more like the SMS that was sent to the burner phone.’

  ‘What if the tall bloke in the alley behind Rosa’s is Kenny’s brother, John?’ I said. ‘He’s a bit younger but age is difficult to judge. He’d match that description.’

  ‘Could be him,’ said Jackie.

  ‘My gut feeling is that Olaf Strozyk isn’t involved with LfA or the arson,’ Dan said. ‘It’s true that he’s scraping by as an accountant, and can’t afford to employ more staff so he’s working long hours. He also has no blood ties with Rosa but we’ve now received confirmation that he wasn’t lying when he said LfA and the website aren’t anything to do with him. Web4U have confirmed that his ten-year domain subscription ended, and the website was temporarily suspended.’

  Dan’s comments rang a bell. ‘I agree. When we interviewed him, he denied reactivating the LfA website. Someone who’s tech-savvy wouldn’t have much difficulty making it look as though a website was registered to a different person, and once payments on a domain name discontinue, after a while, it can be sold again.’

  ‘You mean someone could be setting Olaf up to take the flack?’

  ‘Yeah. He might be a good accountant but he’s a bit dozy, and naïve, and he’s clearly over-worked. I don’t see him as a criminal mastermind, though, do you? Perhaps, as Dan says, he really isn’t involved with the group now, and didn’t notice that his old website had been taken over by someone else?’

  ‘So, we discount Olaf as a suspect?’ Dan asked.

  ‘I think so. Everything points towards LfA. With their knowledge, they could have used Olaf as a shield.’ I shifted my attention to Jackie. ‘What did Artem have to say?’

  ‘He’s a charmer, isn’t he?’ She was shaking her head in disbelief. ‘He said it doesn’t surprise him that someone intended to torch the newsagent’s, and says – and I quote, he “wishes they had because it’s completely redundant and his brother would still be alive”.’

  ‘Twat,’ Dan muttered.

  ‘He said if he’d wanted to target Rosa’s shop, he’d have made damn sure he got the right one.’ Jackie groaned.

  ‘Thing is, that’s potentially a clever bluff because it’s hard to argue with.’ I gathered my thoughts. ‘For anyone who’s interested, there’s still no sign of Ali.’ I tried not to give Dan a dirty look. ‘I’ve been out searching whenever I’ve had a spare moment.’ I checked the team’s faces, rem
embering Dan’s comments. ‘Please ask your contacts to keep an eye out for him. We’ve got to find him. He may have crucial information. He’s a minor and he’s vulnerable, and we don’t have the resources to launch a manhunt for him . . . ’

  ‘You know why that is.’ The comment was Dan’s, but his tone of voice had softened from when we’d argued. ‘It upsets me just as much as you, Maya, but he’s an illegal. Where the law’s concerned, he doesn’t count, and funding follows the law.’

  I didn’t want to argue in front of the team again.

  Dan was on his feet, ready to update the suspect list on the board. ‘Who are we looking at then? Kenny and Artem?’

  I nodded, pleased he’d moved on.

  ‘Who should we put at the top of the list?’ Dan asked.

  ‘Kenny,’ came a loud chorus, and amongst the noise we missed the first few beeps from Alexej’s laptop. Then the alerts got louder, and his phone started to ping.

  ‘Hold up.’ Alexej snatched his phone up and checked his notifications. ‘Someone’s posted on LfA.’ He wiggled his mouse. After a few clicks, his monitor displayed the forum. ‘It’s Frazer.’

  ‘Oh, shit. What is it?’ A knot of dread tightened in my stomach.

  We all clustered round Alexej’s desk and craned our necks to see.

  Whatever he’d posted, it wasn’t going to be good news.

  Maya, 9 a.m.

  Alexej clicked on the forum post. ‘It’s another flash mob. What if that means another arson?’

  FLASH MOB – this afternoon, E1

  Make your voice heard at St Katherine’s Dock.

  Are the two marinas successful urban developments or

  gentrification? Who needs yachts, restaurants and luxury

  flats when we have a crisis in affordable housing?

  Sign up here and check your mob/email

  Exact time and venue TBA.

  Keep your eyes and ears peeled.

  ‘Quick, Alexej,’ I said. ‘Sign up for it so we can get the time and location. We’ll need to get a few officers over there.’

  Once Alexej finished on LfA, we agreed our strategy for monitoring the flash mob, and then needed to return to the morning briefing.

  ‘OK, everyone,’ I said. ‘Grab a cuppa, clear your heads, and let’s resume in a couple of minutes to review lines of inquiry on Patrick Ryan’s murder.’

  While I was waiting, I scanned some of the reports that had been filed overnight. Dougie had sent over preliminary forensics and Dr Clark had managed to conduct his post-mortem yesterday, so the PM report was on file. Cause of death was blood loss resulting from gunshot wounds. Tongue cut out post-mortem with a butcher’s knife, by someone almost definitely left-handed. The forensic lab confirmed that the hairs came from a mixed breed dog, greyhound and collie cross, and there were traces of plastic on Ryan’s clothing. So, Ryan had been wrapped in plastic at some point, and we were looking for someone who was left-handed and had a lurcher. The CSIs had preserved numerous sets of tyre marks and finger prints, but were having to eliminate those that belonged to site staff and vehicles before they could report.

  Alexej and Dan were the first to return to the briefing room.

  Dan handed me a mug of coffee, which I took gratefully. I was sure neither of us wanted tension in the team.

  ‘I think Jackie’s bunked off for a fag,’ he said jokingly.

  ‘I heard that, Sergeant,’ came Jackie’s mock-remonstrative voice, as she arrived with Shen and a few of the analysts and a technician.

  ‘Right, let’s make this brief so we can all get out there and find these bastards.’ I filled the team in on Patrick Ryan’s PM report, the dog hairs and CSI evidence. ‘Alexej, where are we with Manor House CCTV?’

  ‘It’s a huge site, and there’s so much of it, I’ve sent the film over to the Stratford viewing suite. I’ve got a mate who’s a team leader over there. He owes me a favour, and he’s put two of his guys on it. I’ve briefed them on the date and critical times, and he’s going to report back to me as soon as they see something.’

  ‘Good. Thanks. Shen, where are we with H-2-H and eyewitnesses?’

  ‘Not great, Boss, I’m afraid. The co-ordinator says the area around the site isn’t a regular residential street. There’s the school, the church, the sixth form college, the farm. They’ve not found it easy to interview people, and currently there’s nothing of interest to report.’

  ‘So, hypotheses for Ryan’s murder?’ I reviewed the list I’d made on my pad. One, in particular, was concerning me.

  ‘Given his death is linked to the arson, maybe he knew something about it?’ Dan was flicking his biro. ‘Or, as you mentioned, Maya, what if he’s the person who bungled the arson and this is his punishment?’

  ‘That’s exactly what’s bothering me. Someone clearly links his death with LfA and the fire at the soup shop, or they want us to make that connection. Unless it’s a deliberate attempt to send us up the wrong path, I think we need to view his murder in that context.’ I tried to get a gauge on the room. ‘I’ve also been wondering why the killer chose to dump the body at the Manor House development. We know Ryan was killed elsewhere. Why not dump his body in a ditch?’

  ‘That site must mean something to the killer,’ Shen offered. ‘It’s too big a risk to take otherwise.’

  ‘Or the killer thinks it symbolised something to Ryan,’ said Dan.

  ‘It did,’ I replied. ‘It symbolised him leaving his old life behind.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s it?’ Dan asked. ‘Perhaps the killer wanted to snuff out Ryan the person, and the new life that he created for himself? Make sure he ruined it all? Someone who’s jealous maybe?’

  ‘I think you may be onto something there.’ My brain was buzzing with ideas. ‘OK. Action points. For the arson, our number one priority is finding Kenny Hayes. I’m convinced the forum is the key. Alexej, tell the techs to prioritise finding his IP address.’

  He gave a thumbs-up.

  ‘Jackie, could you check whether your contacts in the North have anything new on Kenny, please? And whether Kenny is left- or right-handed.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘Dan, can you find out from uniform what Mr and Mrs Turner have told them, and get an address for Kelly, please? Try the prison governor but if you need to, get over to Berwyn.’

  ‘Sweet,’ said Dan.

  ‘We need to chase up our two alley sightings. Shen, please.’

  ‘For Ryan, we need to find out everything there is to know. Alexej, bank statements, mobile phone data, relationship history. And chase your mate for any sightings of the vehicle and perpetrators on the Manor House CCTV. I’m about to press the site foreman on a couple of aspects of Ryan’s life. Dan, can you also speak to Manor House’s HR? I’ll get Dougie to fast-track the tyre data.’ I switched off the projector. ‘Thanks for your hard work, everyone. Let’s get closure and justice for Simas, Kelly and Ryan, and their families. And let’s make sure no-one else gets hurt.’

  Dan, 10.30 a.m.

  ‘Come through,’ a drippy looking twenty-year-old simpered. With plaits and a short skirt, Dan thought she seemed about twelve. ‘Tina will see you now. I’m Jennifer. Her PA.’

  Dan had arrived at Manor House Developments’ head office in the Docklands to speak to the HR Manager. He showed his warrant and followed Jennifer along a corridor. ‘How’s the Stepney project going?’

  ‘We are on target to have everything up and running by the end of 2021. Well, we were . . . ’ She blushed and muttered to herself. Shot ahead and showed him into a spacious, bright office.

  ‘Tina Sands. HR Manager.’ A woman was waiting for him, matching grey jacket and skirt, her hand outstretched. She took her glasses off. ‘You want to discuss Patrick Ryan, I believe.’ She motioned to a cluster of faux-suede bucket chairs which looked like they’d come straight from Habitat. ‘How can I help?’

  Dan sat down. ‘Are you aware of any recent disputes between Patrick and his colleagues?’

 
‘I’m probably not the best person to ask about how he gets on with the guys on site. That would be the foreman there, Robert Johnson. We tend to only hear about issues once someone gets a bit physical or wants to make it formal.’

  ‘And there haven’t been any incidents of that with Mr Ryan?’

  ‘No. I checked his record before you arrived. It’s exemplary.’ She shook her head. ‘He was doing a good job over there. A reliable sub-foreman.’

  ‘What was his sick record like?’

  ‘I’ll check. Hold on a second.’ She popped her glasses back on and wiggled her computer mouse. ‘He’s within the normal range for amount of sick days.’ She was reading off a spreadsheet. ‘Time-keeping fine. All seems good.’ She looked up at Dan and smiled.

  ‘What were his references like when he applied for his post with you?’

  ‘Let me see.’ A few more clicks. ‘He started work with us in 2015. Applied for a position as a labourer. Clearly over-qualified—’

  ‘Did he tell you what work he’d done before?’

  Click, click. ‘Trader in the City. I remember now. That’s why he wasn’t really a labourer. He’d had management experience.’

  ‘Didn’t you wonder why a city trader wanted a job as a labourer?’

  She frowned. ‘It’s not my job to probe into people’s pasts. As long as there’s nothing there to worry about, we employ our staff on an equal opportunities basis.’

  ‘Don’t you ask them why they want to work for your company?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And what did Mr Ryan say?’

  ‘I have no idea, I’m afraid. I didn’t interview him.’

  Dan was trying to picture Ryan saying that he really wanted a job as a labourer. Or perhaps – after a spell in psychiatric hospital, and then on the streets as a heroin addict before he finally managed to kick the gear – that was what he had genuinely wanted. ‘Who were his referees?’