by Matt Brolly
Lambert made eye contact with each man in the room, desperate to leave and to find who was responsible for making an orphan of Teresa Jardine. He understood what he was being told. He was trusted, but only so far. He sighed, the sound louder than necessary. ‘I understand,’ he said, and walked out of the room.
* * *
‘Would you like to tell me what the hell that was about?’ he asked Tillman, back in the Chief Superintendent’s office.
‘Ignore it,’ said Tillman, tearing his tie off and throwing it onto his desk. ‘You know they are simply protecting their own interests.’
‘Find those responsible as quickly as possible? What do they think I planned to do?’
‘Ignore it,’ said Tillman, more forcefully this time. ‘Tell me where we’re at.’
Lambert told him about the interview with Linklater. ‘Autopsies are going to be first thing tomorrow.’
‘The arsonist is responsible for the murder?’
‘It would seem likely. It’s possible there was more than one person. We lifted a number of fingerprints, but none from the remains of the incendiary devices.’
Tillman leant against the wall as Lambert took a seat. Sweat dripped from his forehead, which he wiped away with an angry swipe of his hand. ‘You think the killer was working alone?’
‘No inkling either way at the moment. Individual or not, it’s a professional job. Getting in there in the first place would not have been easy, then the actual killing, followed by the explosions. Whoever it was must have planned this for some time.’
Tillman grunted as he took a seat behind his desk. ‘The child. Oversight?’
Lambert had been considering that possibility ever since he’d set foot on the grounds. It was doubtful that the killer could have overlooked a sleeping child. Everything about the case so far suggested he was too professional. He must have known that there was a child. And that she was in the house. However, a true professional would have eliminated the child whatever her age. ‘Either the killer has a conscience,’ he said ‘or he was convinced that the child would be unable to survive the explosions.’
‘I would imagine the latter.’
‘Maybe.’
Tillman drummed his fingers on the desk, rubbing his chin with his other hand. ‘CCTV?’
‘We’re going through all traffic in the twenty-four hours preceding the incident and naturally anything during the incident itself. There is gated security, so if the killer was using a vehicle it should show up.’
‘How easily could he have gained access without a vehicle?’
‘Not that easily, but someone with experience wouldn’t have had any trouble.’
‘OK, get on top of that. That must be a priority,’ said Tillman, drumming his fingers again.
‘Something you want to tell me, sir?’ said Lambert, who couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his boss so agitated.
‘What?’ said Tillman, as if only half listening. ‘No, why do you ask?’
‘You’re like a caged animal.’
‘You know they’re expecting an immediate result.’
Lambert glanced at Tillman in surprise. In all the years he’d known Tillman, Lambert had never heard the man show any consideration for his superiors’ desires.
‘And that changes something?’
‘No. Just get the job done.’
Lambert nodded, and rocked in his chair. ‘You know what’s likely to happen next?’
‘I know only too well. Let’s make sure we catch him before he starts getting a taste for it.’
* * *
Lambert was about to get into the lift when DCI Barnes stopped him. ‘I thought we should touch base,’ said Barnes.
Lambert couldn’t remember coming across him before. He towered over Lambert. Straight-backed, Barnes stood with a rigid awkwardness, as if his body had outgrown him.
‘Of course,’ said Lambert. ‘There’s a conference room through here.’
They walked side by side through the open plan office, neither speaking. ‘Through here,’ said Lambert, opening the door.
‘Get you anything?’ said Lambert, taking a seat. The conference room looked out on the Thames, which had a layer of fog hovering above it.
‘You’re OK,’ said Barnes. ‘Nice place you got here.’
‘It’s got its perks. You’re out of Hackney, right?’
‘Yes, not quite the same views.’
‘How are your team taking things with Caroline? Stupid question, I know.’
Barnes frowned. ‘Yeah, not great. Everyone is in shock, as you can imagine.’ He paused. ‘Listen, I wanted to say that I had nothing to do with that little get-together back there. I have no idea why that Weaver guy has stuck his nose in.’
‘Don’t sweat it. Main thing is we find out who’s responsible for that fire.’
Barnes nodded, frowning again. ‘I’ve been told I can’t get directly involved in the case but I wanted to offer any help I can. I can spare manpower – whether we go through the proper channels or not.’
‘I appreciate that and I’ll definitely keep that in mind. What can you tell me about DI Jardine?’
Barnes considered the question. He’d remained stoic ever since Lambert had first seen him in the room with Weaver and the two senior police officers, with the occasional glimpse of emotion when Caroline was mentioned. He was hard to read, but Lambert saw the inner strength in the man, could understand how he’d reached a senior position in the Met.
‘DI Jardine was an exceptional officer, and I don’t say that lightly. She had a steely determination which I’ve rarely seen before.’
‘How did she get on with the rest of the team?’
‘She was well respected, though she wasn’t shy about confrontation. She was promoted ahead of some of her colleagues, so that brought with it the usual challenges, but she adjusted. You need only experience the atmosphere in the office to tell how much she’ll be missed.’ Barnes placed his hands on the conference table, tapping the index finger of his left hand three times before stopping himself.
‘What was she working on?’
‘She’s been heading a case on organised crime in the Hackney area. Mainly out of the estates. We have people down there cracking skulls, as it were.’
‘Any threats?’
‘Nothing beyond the usual empty taunts. We’ve made a couple of arrests and we’ll be talking to them as well.’
‘Informants?’
‘She had a couple on the books, some off it. We’ll be speaking to them too, I can promise you that.’
Lambert sensed that Barnes was holding something back and wondered if his behaviour was a façade to protect his emotions. He was reminded of Tillman and Matilda. It wasn’t unusual for officers to have affairs and Barnes’ reticence implied there was more to his relationship with Jardine then he was letting on.
‘If there’s anything else you can think of,’ said Lambert, getting to his feet.
Barnes got up, unfolding himself until he was standing in that rigid manner again. ‘Good luck,’ he said, shaking hands with Lambert. ‘I can see myself out.’
Chapter Seven
Lambert called Sarah as he made his way back to Chislehurst. He hadn’t spoken to her since their awkward meeting the previous day at the restaurant, and he wanted to make contact before a lengthy silence developed between them. He hung up as he went through to her voicemail.
They’d been seeing less of each other lately, both preoccupied with their respective caseloads. Their living arrangements were still complicated. They lived in separate places, and though he hadn’t admitted as much to Sarah, Lambert was grateful for the fact. He was used to living alone. Even during the last couple of years with his estranged wife, Sophie, he’d slept in a different room. He’d come to enjoy the solitude of his own company, and was unsure if he could adjust once more to the daily rhythm of a shared life.
His relationship with Sarah had developed in unusual circumstances. They’d shared th
e trauma of being kidnapped, and sometimes Lambert wondered if it was this experience which kept them together. He still enjoyed her company, thought about her in idle moments, but something had changed since she’d moved to London. He’d put it down to the first rush of infatuation fading, but more and more he was convinced their time together was close to an end.
As he edged through the rush hour traffic, it occurred to Lambert that the thought should have saddened him. He promised himself that he would broach the subject with Sarah at some point, for her benefit if nothing else.
He reached Chislehurst ninety minutes later. Croft and Bickland were in the incident room, both on the phone. Bickland hung up as Lambert took a seat at the desk next to him.
‘We have a lead on the CCTV footage, though I’m not sure how strong it is,’ said Bickland, turning his laptop so Lambert could see the screen. It showed the blurred image of a small, dark goods van entering the main gate. ‘One-thirty am,’ said Bickland.
‘How did he gain entry?’
‘The security system uses a sensor system. A device is fixed on the vehicle’s windscreen which links with the main gate.’
‘OK,’ said Lambert, impatient for Bickland to get to the point.
‘Only, the van’s not registered.’
‘No surprise there. Could the driver have swiped someone’s sensor?’
‘That’s what I thought. I contacted the security firm. They have a register of all the coming and goings through the gate. List of number plates and times. Sounds like a great system,’ said Bickland.
‘But?’
‘Nothing for the van entering and leaving. The gate is recorded as opening at one-thirty, and then again at three-ten when the van left, but the security firm have no idea how the van bypassed their system.’
‘Did they give you their best idea?’
‘The guy I talked to suggested the driver either had some master copy, or had manufactured some sort of device to bypass it.’
‘So not a great system after all?’
Bickland shook his head. ‘I spoke to one of our tech guys who looked into it. He said that overall it’s pretty sound, but someone with strong technical knowledge could manufacture something.’
‘Without access to the security firm’s system?’
‘Apparently so.’
‘Great,’ said Lambert.
‘Next issue is the monitoring of the CCTV images,’ said Croft, who had left her desk and stood behind Lambert, staring at Bickland’s screen.
Lambert stifled a smile as Bickland glared at Croft. ‘Yes,’ he said, returning to the laptop and accessing another file which showed the van drive along the main road and disappear around the corner.
‘Blind spot in the monitoring, one of many,’ said Croft. ‘We’ve pinpointed where we think the van would have parked and have interviewed the residents for sightings, but no joy.’
‘Here,’ said Bickland, pointing to the screen. ‘We believe the suspect would have crossed this line,’ he said, dragging his finger across the screen. ‘A hundred yard blind spot from the road to the Jardine house. The house itself is not monitored, remarkably enough. Residents have the option but the family wanted their privacy. We think the suspect would have made his entrance through the back garden. The back door was still intact and it looks as if the lock was picked.’
Lambert leant back in his chair. ‘Someone knew the system top to bottom,’ he said.
‘Possibly someone who used to live there?’ said Croft.
The thought had occurred to Lambert. Linklater, Caroline Jardine’s ex-husband, was an obvious fit – and in Lambert’s experience the obvious fit was usually the correct one. ‘Do we have any close-ups on the van driver?’ he asked.
Bickland grimaced. ‘We do,’ he said, showing Lambert a blurred image of a face covered by a balaclava.
‘Shit.’
‘Indeed,’ said Bickland.
Lambert glanced over at the whiteboard where pictures of Jardine and her husband had been posted. A number of names were scrawled beneath the images, including Linklater’s. ‘Let’s get Linklater in again. See if he still has access to the gate. Bickland, did you manage to get to Marcus Jardine’s office?’
‘I popped in. Not the most talkative lot. General consensus was that he was very hard-working and extremely good at his job. I’ve got some more of his colleagues to see but no one had a bad word to say about him.’
‘Let’s keep looking at him. See if there are any jealous ex-girlfriends on the scene. Extra-marital affairs, that sort of thing.’
Bickland nodded.
‘Where’s the girl?’ asked Lambert.
‘Teresa? She’s with her grandparents on Caroline’s side. A Family Liaison Officer is situated on site with them,’ said Croft.
Lambert sighed. ‘I’m going to need to speak to her first thing.’
‘Sir,’ said Croft.
‘Right, don’t work too late,’ said Lambert, getting to his feet. ‘Better to be fresh for tomorrow.’
Both officers stayed silent as he left the incident room.
* * *
Lambert was almost at the main entrance when the duty sergeant called over to him. ‘DCI Lambert, someone here for you.’
Lambert walked over. ‘We haven’t been introduced,’ he said to the man.
The sergeant raised his eyebrows a centimetre, a hint of humour in his eyes. ‘Sergeant Carberry.’ Carberry had the withered look of many in his position.
‘How long have they been here?’
‘Oh, about an hour and a half,’ the sergeant told him.
‘Carberry,’ said Lambert, fixing the sergeant with a stare of his own. ‘Any reason you waited until I was walking out the door before you decided to share this information?’
Carberry returned the stare with the same elevation of the eyebrows, the weary humour in the eyes. ‘Must have slipped my mind. Room three. Lovely chap. DS Duggan.’
‘Right,’ said Lambert.
‘You know Duggan?’ asked Carberry, his words laced with distaste.
‘I know him,’ said Lambert with a sigh, as he made his way to the interview rooms.
Duggan was sitting with his back to the door. Lambert entered without knocking. ‘What are you doing here, Duggan?’
‘DCI Lambert,’ said Duggan, turning to face him. ‘Please take a seat.’
‘No need, I won’t be staying.’
Duggan ran his hand through his hair, sweeping it to the side. He worked for AC-Six, one of the Met’s Anti-Corruption units. He’d been pestering Lambert on and off for the last six months. From what Lambert could ascertain, AC-Six were putting together a case against Tillman. ‘We can do this somewhere else?’ said Duggan.
‘No. I realise this hasn’t crossed your mind but you are a subordinate officer. I have the right…’
‘Yes, yes, to be questioned by an officer at least one rank higher,’ said Duggan, interrupting. ‘You’re not under caution, DCI Lambert, we’re simply having a friendly chat. We can make it a bit more formal if you prefer.’
Lambert took a seat. ‘Chat away.’
‘I wanted to give you some friendly encouragement more than anything.’ Despite the lateness of the hour, Duggan was dressed impeccably. His suit was creaseless, his tie pushed tight against the top button of his crisp shirt. Even his hair was immaculate, the brown mop styled to perfection. Only his right eye betrayed the look. It was half-closed, a legacy from a violent incident when Duggan had first joined the force.
‘I’ve told you before, Duggan, I won’t be testifying.’
Duggan ran his hand through his hair, a subconscious gesture which Lambert took to signify his nervousness. ‘You may prove superfluous.’
‘So why are you here?’
‘Some things have come to light.’
Lambert sucked in a deep breath, exhausted from the day. ‘I’m not playing games, Duggan. Tell me what you want or let me be.’
‘Some new evidence has come to light. Fr
om the Watcher case.’
Lambert tensed. The climax to the Watcher case had been a catastrophe. Lambert had been with Tillman when they’d captured the man responsible. The Watcher had been fleeing the building, his body consumed by the explosion. Lambert knew what was coming.
Tillman had been in a relationship with Matilda. He still was, as far as Lambert could ascertain. Tillman had pulled a gun on the Watcher and only Lambert’s intervention had prevented him from shooting the suspect dead. ‘Tell me, Duggan, whilst we’re both young.’
‘We have two witnesses,’ said Duggan, unable to disguise his satisfaction.
Two paramedics were present at the time Tillman had pulled the gun, but Lambert thought they had been occupied elsewhere. He didn’t reply.
Duggan shuffled in his chair, his hand moving through his hair once more. ‘Two witnesses who saw Tillman reach for his gun.’
Lambert nodded, trying to control his increasing heartbeat.
‘Two witnesses who saw you spray Tillman with pepper spray before he had the chance to shoot.’
Lambert stared at Duggan, waiting until the officer broke eye contact. ‘What is it you want, Duggan? Do you have any idea what we went through that night? Not just that night, but the whole wretched case?’
Duggan tilted his head. ‘I appreciate it was a difficult case, DCI Lambert, but we’re here to uphold the law. That law applies to all of us. No exceptions.’
It had to happen sooner or later, thought Lambert. Tillman’s behaviour was always borderline when it came to his investigations. The Watcher case was not the only one where Lambert had seen him push the boundaries of what was acceptable. Despite this, Lambert was convinced Tillman was committed to the law. ‘I’m afraid your witnesses are mistaken,’ said Lambert.
Duggan shook his head. ‘Why do you protect him? He has a complete disregard for his position.’
Lambert shrugged his shoulders. ‘If there’s nothing else, it’s late.’
