Bryant & May - The Burning Man

by Christopher Fowler

  She glanced down at her black padded PCU jacket and boots. ‘Oh, work clothes. I’m on duty. Are you doing the private clinic today?’

  ‘Always on a Friday. It’s going crazy on the public wards. There are as many police coming in as rioters.’

  ‘You’ve just admitted a colleague of mine, Colin Bimsley. I need to find him.’

  ‘Hang on.’ He strode over to one of the registrars and exchanged a few words. ‘He was one of two admittances. The other was a female, unconscious; sounds like there’s some confusion about her. A witness says they dived off Blackfriars Bridge?’

  ‘That sounds like Colin.’

  ‘Come on, I’ll walk with you.’ Ryan looked her over. ‘It’s great to see you, Meera. I thought we were going to get together on Tuesday night.’

  ‘I’m sorry; it was all kicking off at work. Everyone’s flat out.’

  ‘That’s what I figured. There’s another big clash going on right now,’ said Malhotra, pointing up at the Sky News footage on the screen they were passing: an overhead shot of the area surrounding the Bank of England. Police were baton-charging an angry crowd amid pockets of dense black smoke. A rolling caption read: ‘London under siege: West End to be evacuated until further notice’.

  ‘The mayor wants to bring in a second water cannon, but human-rights activists are trying to have them banned. We’re all on standby. I’m surprised there haven’t been more casualties. What’s this case you’re on – the burnings? It’s all over the news. Is that why your colleague is in here?’

  ‘I think he was trying to prevent another death.’

  ‘Don’t you people have back-up looking after you?’

  ‘We’re an independent unit, Ryan. If we call out backup, we have to pay for it.’

  ‘Meera, I was talking to your mother last night, and she’s very worried about you.’

  Meera stopped in the middle of the corridor. ‘What were you doing talking to my mother?’

  ‘She couldn’t get hold of you so she called me. She wants you to switch to an administrative job, get a placement where you don’t stand a chance of being hurt.’

  ‘There are no admin jobs at the PCU. Everyone gets out there; that’s the way it’s structured. Besides, I would hate it.’

  ‘I knew you’d say that, so I tried explaining to her, but she’s not happy. I fought for you, I really did. She wants you to visit her.’

  ‘Ryan, I don’t want you to be the go-between,’ said Meera angrily. ‘Whose side are you on?’

  He took her hand and patted it. ‘I’m not taking sides, sweetie, but you can understand her point of view. After all, if we’re going to be married … She was asking about the plans.’

  ‘We haven’t made any plans.’

  ‘Yes, we have. I agreed with her that the wedding will probably have to take place in Mumbai.’

  ‘What, just to please her crazy family? I’ve never even been to India, Ryan. I’m an Anglo and all my friends are here. They’d have to pay for their flights; it would make no sense.’

  ‘It will work out cheaper for us, and if we’re saving for a house we’ll need the money.’

  A look of horror crossed Meera’s features. ‘Wait, wait, who mentioned a house? When did we have these conversations?’

  ‘I can’t find you half the time; I have to have them with someone. Your mother thinks—’

  ‘Who are you seeing, Ryan, me or my bloody mother? Look, I can’t do this right now, OK? I know you mean well but your timing is lousy. I’ve got a colleague down and there’s just too much going on.’

  Malhotra smoothed his hair back into place. ‘OK, I respect that. But it seems like you never have time to talk about the future. That’s why I always end up having to talk to your mother.’

  ‘Why do we have to talk about everything? Why can’t we just get on with it?’ she snapped.

  ‘It’s important to discuss our feelings. We need to know what we’re getting into.’

  ‘What, you think I’m not good enough for you?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t. It’s just that you haven’t met any of my work colleagues yet and—’

  ‘They have to approve of me?’

  Ryan was flustered. ‘I didn’t mean that at all. It’s just that you’re hardly ever around and, well … sometimes I think you only do what you want to do. And being married, it means sometimes you have to do things you don’t like.’ He held open the door for her. ‘Your friend will be in this ward. I’ll call you later, OK, sweetie?’

  She ducked off before he could kiss her, thinking, If he calls me sweetie one more time I’m going to punch him in the face.

  First she checked on Papis, who had received a cocktail of antibiotic inoculations to protect her against the pestilential properties of the Thames water she had swallowed. Joanna was expected to remain asleep for some hours, but was otherwise fine.

  Bimsley was curtained off and hooked to monitors at the far end of the public ward. A dark bruise had blossomed across his right cheekbone and jaw. Meera tapped him awake and waited impatiently while he focused on her. He had been sedated into lugubrious slow motion.

  ‘Hey, you.’ He raised a hand, careful not to dislodge the drip in his arm.

  ‘Hey. What happened?’

  ‘I failed her, Meera.’ His voice dragged. ‘Joanna Papis. I gave her our number but she never called. We should have put surveillance on her.’

  ‘You didn’t fail her,’ she told him. ‘She’s a bit bashed up and has torn the ligaments in her left wrist, but she’s expected to make a full recovery. You did good, you nutter. What happened back there?’

  ‘He poured petrol into her flat. She barely got out in time. I tried to get there.’ Colin licked his lips. Meera gave him a sip of water. ‘She headed to the bridge and went up on to the roof. There was no way back down, and he got to her. I saw her hit the water and went in after her but the current—’ He started coughing.

  ‘Don’t try to talk.’ She put the beaker back to his lips. ‘Let me find out about your status, see if we can’t get you moved to UCH.’

  He tried to lift himself. ‘I’ve already talked to the paramedics. There’s nothing broken but I twisted my spine when I hit the water, so I have to be X-rayed before I can get checked out. I thought she’d drowned, Meera, a beautiful, bright young woman. What the hell is wrong with someone that they would try to do something like that?’

  ‘There’s a team at her flat,’ Meera told him, ‘but it’s completely gutted. The fire spread to the second floor and nearly killed a kid. We’ll get this guy. We have to.’

  ‘Mr Bryant said there would be more deaths. That means he’ll try again tomorrow, on Guy Fawkes Night. The Old Man says if we don’t stop him by then he’ll have finished whatever he set out to do and will disappear forever.’

  ‘Then maybe we can find him first. Let’s get you out of here.’

  ‘What are you doing over this way, anyhow?’ he asked. ‘It’s off your beat.’

  ‘What do you think I’m doing? I came to see you.’

  ‘You could have brought me something to eat.’

  ‘Yeah, like I want to sit here watching you eat a chicken jalfrezi with a spork. How come you were so near the scene?’

  ‘I’d been to the gym. Papis’s call came through just as I was trying to get breakfast. Someone has to phone her parents.’

  ‘Janice is doing it,’ said Meera, rising. ‘I’ll go and have a word with the nurse.’

  Colin’s hand stayed her. ‘Hang on here a minute longer.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just because.’

  ‘Look at you. You’re a right madman, you know that?’

  ‘I had to do it. You’d have done the same thing.’

  Meera grunted. ‘I’m not so sure I would have. You know how many people go into the Thames and never come out.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Colin. ‘Why did he pick her?’

  ‘She knew two of the victims,’ said Meera.

/>   ‘Maybe he thought they told her something.’

  ‘If they did, she certainly didn’t know what it was. Bryant’s gone missing again, by the way.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘John has been trying to call him but his phone’s switched off. His landlady says he left their flat early this morning. There’s something strange going on that they’re not telling us.’

  ‘Meera, get this thing off me.’ Colin plucked at the needle taped in the back of his hand. ‘I can’t wait around for a sign-off.’

  ‘I can’t do that, Colin. Let me get someone. Besides, you’d have to go on the back of my bike.’

  ‘Fine, I get to put my arms around you.’ He gave her an innocent look. ‘Just so I don’t fall off. Obviously.’

  ‘Obviously. You’re not a sparrow with a broken wing, OK? I don’t feel sorry for you, so don’t even try it.’ But as she went to find a nurse she caught herself smiling.

  41

  UNTOUCHABLE

  ‘Why am I always the last to know what’s going on around here?’ cried Raymond Land, hurtling out from behind his desk to poke his finger at the TV screen. ‘Bryant’s vanished again, the press are all over the street asking anyone in a uniform why the case hasn’t been turned over to the CID, and the CoL are on the phone threatening to put the building into lockdown because they think we’re behind the leak. I turn on the news and see one half of London trying to smash open the doors to the Bank of England and the other half panicking because they’ve just realized there’s a serial killer on the loose. Questions are going to be asked in Parliament. People are terrified. I’ve got heartburn, tinnitus and blurred vision. Why did nobody show up for this morning’s briefing?’

  ‘Which question do you want answered first?’ asked May.

  ‘Work with me,’ Land pleaded.

  ‘We didn’t get a chance to bring you up to speed. Joanna Papis was attacked at her home this morning. The press found out. They’re already linking it with the deaths.’

  ‘How? Why the devil would they do that?’

  ‘It started with another arson attack. One of the firefighters must have spoken to a reporter. Janice will fill you in on the rest. I have to go.’

  ‘Wait, wait, where are you off to?’

  ‘I have to do something for Arthur.’ John grabbed his overcoat. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘You’re in contact with him?’ snarled Land. ‘This is completely unacceptable. I cannot be expected to run this unit unless I know where you all are.’

  ‘You never did run the unit,’ rejoined May, ‘it was always us.’ I shouldn’t have said that, he thought as he headed down the stairs.

  He found Maggie Armitage anxiously awaiting his arrival in the reception area of the London Library, at the deepest corner of St James’s Square. She was so sombrely dressed that for a moment he failed to recognize her. Usually the Grand Order Grade Four-registered white witch wore fabrics that appeared to have been stolen from a particularly lurid 1970s game show. Bryant joked that Maggie was the only object apart from the Great Wall of China that could be seen from space, but today she was dressed entirely in black. May followed her to the members’ lounge and they seated themselves in a sequestered nook.

  ‘I know you think I’m a flake,’ Maggie began, ‘but Arthur asked me to help him. That’s why I’m dressed like this, so I don’t stand out. I even covered up my tattoo.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had one.’

  ‘Oh, yes, the family escutcheon, crossed spears, ducks rampant. It’s a long story.’

  ‘He’s not supposed to break confidentiality on this,’ said May. ‘We’re in enough trouble as it is.’

  ‘I understand, but I’d have thought that by now you’d know I can be trusted.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I’m here because there’s an original Dead Diary kept in a subsection of the Crace Collection.’

  May knew that for decades his partner had kept daily files on those who died in suspicious or unusual circumstances in London.

  ‘Arthur told me he originally got the idea from the volumes stored in the London Library’s basement,’ Maggie explained. ‘He wanted me to find historical precedents, and sent me a set of guidelines.’

  ‘You mean he actually figured out how to send an email?’ May was astonished.

  ‘No, of course not,’ Maggie said. ‘I asked Deirdre to pop over on her scooter. She was in the area visiting her spiritual chiropodist. She gets her bunions smashed up by lifewaves, swears by it. Arthur has a theory about your killer’s psychology.’

  ‘Do you know where Arthur is?’

  ‘Oh, around and about,’ she replied nebulously. ‘There are angels looking after him.’

  ‘I’m worried he’s going to join them,’ grumbled May. ‘I suppose he told you he’s not well.’

  ‘Yes, he talked me through the whole thing, but right now he’s lucid and he needs to get to the bottom of this while he still can.’

  ‘You don’t sound overly worried, Maggie.’

  She peered over her bifocals and arched an eyebrow at him. ‘I see very little difference between the living and the dead, Mr May. If Arthur passes over, I’ll still be able to talk to him. This case of yours. You understand the significance of its occurrence between Samhain and Guy Fawkes Night, I take it.’

  ‘I can see that someone might believe they could hide their crimes in this particular period. You know I don’t have much faith in signs and portents, or supernatural conspiracies.’

  ‘But fire and insurgence! Conflagration and rebellion! This is a man who wants to take his place in history – Catholic history.’

  ‘I have to be honest with you, Maggie, I don’t know where you’re getting this or what you expect to find in here.’

  ‘Arthur has already followed this further than you realize,’ she whispered. ‘Did you know that Dexter Cornell is one of Kensington’s biggest property tycoons, and that he’s been illegally selling buildings to the Chinese by getting his lawyers to delist them from preservation orders? Cornell’s not his real name. He’s originally from Latvia. He was a small-town fire-and-brimstone evangelist who reinvented himself when he arrived here. We think he might be symbolically seeking to send his victims to hell, as others have before him.’

  ‘Apart from the fact that you clearly have no idea how insane you sound, I’m Arthur’s partner and he should be telling me this, not you.’

  ‘He knows that you wouldn’t go along with him.’

  ‘Fine, but searching through the past …’ He sighed wearily.

  ‘It’s a perfectly valid method of investigation,’ Maggie insisted.

  ‘I seem to remember that you also believe cats can sing.’

  ‘If you’re referring to Admiral Fanshawe, my feline conduit to the netherworld, I’ve retired him. A fine castrato, but all he ever does is go on about the First World War. I’ve a new spirit guide now, Fifi Lamour. I’ve started picking her up on my toaster. The only trouble is that it has to be turned on and she has a tendency to chat, so we get through a lot of bread.’

  ‘Right, that’s it.’ May rose to leave. ‘Good luck finding the spirit of Guy Fawkes, Madame Arcati or whoever it is you’re looking for. Meanwhile, in the real world, we’ll be sifting through the forensic evidence.’

  ‘Fine, make fun of me,’ said Maggie, looking hurt, ‘but let me give you some advice, John. Just once, try seeing things from a different point of view. The term “bonfire”? It originated in Scandinavia, specifically Denmark. It marked the celebration of a battle victory, when the bodies of the dead were piled and burned. The fire provided warmth and light for the survivors’ party. The word was used to describe any large celebratory fire, but there’s another interpretation. The words “Bon Fire” are supposedly taken from Tudor history.’

  ‘Maggie, this is pointless—’

  ‘No, John, listen to me. In 1555, Edmund Bonner was the Bishop of London. Acting on his orders, over three hundred English men and women were burned at the stake f
or their faith, and because of Bonner’s actions we now call them Bon’s fires. The Sussex bonfire societies are gathering in the town of Lewes right now, ready for tomorrow night’s celebrations. They’re preparing to commemorate the burning of seventeen Protestant martyrs by Catholics in the reign of Mary Tudor. Have you checked the religions of those who have died?’

  ‘Wait, you’re saying this is about Catholics and Protestants?’

  ‘There were a great many reprisals in the years that followed the dissolution of the monasteries,’ said Maggie. ‘But your murder plot could be more to do with sectarianism than mere anarchy. And it will end in Sussex tomorrow night, at the martyrs’ site.’

  ‘Did you tell Arthur this?’

  ‘No, no.’ Maggie shook her head so fiercely that her silver earrings jangled. ‘He told me.’

  ‘Know what I usually love about this job?’ said Dan Banbury as he looked around Joanna Papis’s fire-damaged flat. ‘Crime scenes are never quite what you expect. But what am I supposed to do here?’

  Senior Officer Blaize Carter turned on another of the freestanding LED lights that had been set up in the only unburned part of the hall. The ceiling bulbs had all burst and the main window had split and was blackened with soot. The ceiling was still dripping. ‘At least everyone else in the house got out alive. You can thank the Swedes for that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Cleaner design lines,’ Carter explained. ‘Curtains connect floors to ceilings, but they’re out of fashion these days. Everyone wants blinds, and they’re usually flame retardant.’

  ‘You think it’s the same MO as in De Vere’s flat?’

  ‘Yes, but this time he didn’t come inside.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Look at the place.’ Carter banged the back of her hand on the wall. ‘It’s a cheap, badly finished conversion. He must have known it would go up in seconds, but it didn’t burn as fast as he expected. There was a rubber mat inside the front door which caught most of the ignited fuel and reduced the spread. There’s a reason why we don’t see many premeditated arson attacks. British houses are too solidly built. I’m not saying they don’t catch fire – they do if they’re full of clutter and chintz – but it’s hard to predict the patterning. It’s usually a spontaneous crime.’