His parents were wealthy, which in turn gave him wealth. The higher-than-average intelligence genes had been successfully handed over to him in the process of cell division. Jake was healthy, strong and handsome. The shit had to hit the fan one day. That day, as far as he was concerned, had come with a long weekend attached.
When Saxon appeared at his cell door, Jake was pleased. At least it gave him the chance to have his say, and he knew that Saxon was a reasonable man and would listen with an open mind. He also knew that if it was up to Superintendent Mitchell, the key to the cell would have been thrown away days ago – if the evidence was there, that would do for Mitchell – even if he thought it was not quite kosher.
Saxon entered the cell; he sat on the end of the bunk and proceeded to tell Jake about the events of the morning. Parker stood leaning on the doorframe with his arms folded. When Saxon finished, Jake said something, which finally made him realise that Jake was not guilty of murder.
‘Paul, there are elements in this morning’s murders that seem to connect a group of individuals, who just happen to work in the same place – it doesn’t prove anything much. It certainly doesn’t conclusively prove that I’m innocent of the other murders. Unfortunately,’ he added with a half-smile.
Saxon shifted about uncomfortably. He wanted to let Jake go, knowing deep down that he was innocent. Having him there was a complete waste of time.
‘Right, Jake,’ Saxon said standing up, ‘let’s get your Ms Wright in, and have a formal interview for the record. Then I’ll decide what to do.’ He smiled at Jake and stopped at the cell door. Turning, he said, ‘Pack your bags, Jake; I think you’ll be going home later.’
Sarah Wright arrived with her usual businesslike manner, with a smattering of rudeness thrown in for good measure. Most of the officers who came in contact with her, held the opinion that she had seen too many crime thrillers on the television, and was behaving in the way that a brief was supposed to. None of them could be bothered to tell her that this was real life and all she had to do to get good service was to be polite.
Saxon was called the minute she arrived. He talked with her in the interview room while Jake was brought up from his cell. Parker sat next to him and sipped tea. Saxon outlined his thoughts to Ms Wright; she was shocked, but pleased to hear what he said.
‘Commander Saxon, you surprise me…I don’t understand – the evidence, according to you, is so strong. Why on earth are you letting my client go? Could it be that you are a new breed of policeman, one who is capable of thinking for himself? I’m impressed.’ She smiled sweetly, adding, ‘You’re not a bad bloke for a copper.’
Saxon blushed, and smiled back. ‘Thanks; I just know he didn’t do it. I usually trust my instincts and they haven’t let me down so far. I’m just going to ask him a few questions and then he’s a free man.’
Jake was brought into the cell. He took his place at the table.
‘Jake, good morning, I want to ask you about the burglary – it says here on the incident sheet that personal items were taken. Tell me about it in as much detail as you can remember.’
Jake took a deep breath. ‘I arrived home at about twenty past nine. The first thing that struck me as strange was the fact that my front door was open, but not forced. The lock had been either picked or the burglar had a key. You don’t need me to tell you, that kids would do that – they’d force it open. Then there’s the state of the place. Why didn’t James my next-door neighbour hear anything?
‘I’ll tell you why, whoever smashed up the place, did it carefully, and they didn’t leave any fingerprints. Kids who do that sort of thing aren’t that bright, they would have left prints all over the place. I’m sure this is a set-up, Paul. Someone’s out to get me.’
Saxon leant back in his chair and blew air noisily through his mouth, then meshed his fingers behind his head. After a pause, he said, ‘It struck me as strange that there was no evidence at all, not even one hair in any of the victims’ hands and nothing under their fingernails. Until after you were burgled, that is – then suddenly bits and pieces of you started turning up all over the place. Okay, this is the way I see it…’ He paused. ‘It seems pretty obvious to me that Mr Killer broke into your apartment with the sole purpose of gathering a few items of clothing, and I see on the list, a hairbrush was taken, so that he could extract samples to plant on his victims, thus framing you. Now, the question is who would want to do this to you. Any ideas?’
‘None that I can think of at this particular moment, but whoever it is knows about forensics,’ said Jake, knowing he had stated something obvious.
Parker stood up and removed his jacket, and added. ‘But with all the crime shows on the telly, anybody with a bit of intelligence has a rudimentary understanding of forensics. Everyone surely knows that DNA can be extracted from hair and skin, and stuff like that, and that if we find fibres at a crime scene then we can match them to wherever and whatever. Don’t have to be a rocket scientist to digest that, do you?’
Saxon looked squarely at Jake. ‘Tell me what you know about Steven Tucker.’
‘You can’t be serious – the bloke was a complete idiot. He worked in the same place as me, as an attendant and cleaner down at the mortuary. He would have been totally incapable of planning a crime that involved anything more complex than grabbing and running.’
‘There was another body found near his. A young man named Lee Fry – does the name ring any bells?’
Jake shrugged. ‘Never heard of him. Do you think they were bumped off by the person who’s trying to set me up?’
‘I can’t say, because I simply don’t know. They were both bisexual and that appears to be the only connection at this time. It could merely be a coincidence. Back to my original question – are you sure that there isn’t someone way back in your past who’s got it in for you?’
Jake sighed. ‘Sorry, but there is no one that I can think of – I guess I’m just too good to be true.’ He smiled, and glanced at Sarah Wright, who had sat through the entire conversation without saying a word, and she was smiling too – a lingering smile that kept his attention longer than usual.
While Jake was preparing to leave the police station, Saxon organised STI to follow him for the next week – as much for his own protection as to check on his movements. Saxon knew he wasn’t a killer but it wouldn’t hurt to be doubly sure.
Superintendent Mitchell was not too happy to hear of Jake’s release, but being a creep, he argued for the standard amount of creeping time, and then he eventually conceded and was happy to just obey orders.
Jake had no idea that he was being watched. The STI department were so skilful at their trade, that Jake never realised that two men suddenly occupied the empty apartment opposite his, with a fancy camera and a taste for fast food. And whenever he drove anywhere, the cars following him were rotated, so that if he looked in his rear-view mirror, the same car would never appear more than once. Since the death of PC Lucas – STI were trying even harder this time.
Parker walked around the office fanning himself with a few sheets of paper, moaning about the high temperature. ‘They say the weather is going to break soon, sir. A good downpour, that’s what we need. It’ll freshen everything up.’
Saxon was reading, he stopped and looked up at his sergeant.
‘Thanks, Parker, meteorology later, crime now if you don’t mind. I don’t like it, Parker, we appear to be back at square one again. I feel as though we are sitting around waiting for another body to fall out of a cupboard.’
Parker’s mobile rang and he listened for a minute and mumbled a thanks and hang up. ‘That was Sergeant Groves. Apparently Judge Mancini, as expected, presided over hundreds of cases over the past five years – only seriously threatened once, and that person is still banged up. But wait for it. He was gay.’
Saxon frowned, ‘Why aren’t I surprised?’
The phone rang and Parker answered it after one ring. He turned to look at Saxon with an intense expression, be
coming more serious as the seconds ticked by. ‘When did this happen?’ Followed by, ‘Are you sure it was him – do we have a positive ID on that? Good.’ Then there was a long pause, until Parker said, ‘Okay, keep me updated on this – thanks.’ He hung up the phone and sat down.
‘Keith Jenner, Mr Charm himself, has knifed a farmer for driving his tractor too slowly along the lane outside Anvil Wood House. According to Sergeant Dowling, Jenner pulled out from the house into the lane, the driver of the tractor just managed to nip in front of him. There were two people on the tractor, anyway Jenner followed for about a mile beeping his horn and flashing his lights.
‘When they came to the junction with the Cookbridge Road, Jenner jumped out of his Jaguar and started swearing at the farmer. Apparently the farmer swore back. Jenner went to the boot of his car and produced a baseball bat and a carving knife, and wait for it – a pistol. Not the subtlest of people is he? Anyway, he stabbed the driver of the tractor, after beating him about the head – then he hit the other chap several times, but didn’t hang around to knife him. Nice of him.’
Saxon sat slightly stunned. ‘What about the driver of the tractor – what’s his condition?’
‘Touch and go at the moment. Not much hope.’
Dowling knocked on the door and entered without waiting for a reply. ‘They’ve spotted him, sir, we’ve got a helicopter following him, and he’s heading for Newhaven.’
Saxon jumped to his feet. ‘Come on, Parker, I want to be in on this one.’ Parker was tall, and considered himself to be a fast runner, but he had a problem keeping up with Saxon. As they dashed through the police station, they attracted a certain amount of attention – nobody had ever seen a commander run before.
Saxon gunned the engine of his Land Rover as Parker reached out of the passenger window and attached the magnetic blue light to the roof. He then picked up the microphone and told the control room to patch the helicopter through to their car. Saxon was a fully-qualified pursuit driver and quickly pulled out from the police car park into the stream of traffic. Parker switched on the siren, causing a great swathe to open up before them.
The drive along the A259 to Newhaven was fast, Saxon pushed the Land Rover close to the limit. The V8 engine was capable of greater speeds, but unfortunately, the road planners hadn’t allowed for police chases. They had built roundabouts, which Saxon considered driving over to save time, but he had an ingrained respect for the law and couldn’t bring himself to do it.
The running commentary from the helicopter gave them a blow-by-blow account of what Jenner was demolishing in his bid to escape. So far, he hadn’t run anyone over, but the police were aware that this could happen at any time. If the situation warranted it then the tactics they could use would be as deadly as a police marksman. They would drive him off the road and over a cliff if necessary.
As Saxon and Parker approached the town centre, they asked the helicopter pilot for a precise location of Jenner’s car. He told them Jenner was heading alongside the river, opposite the ferry terminal, and that there were two patrol cars chasing him and an armed-response unit. Saxon checked his mirror – nothing behind him was moving. Most of the drivers in Newhaven realised that something big was going on and had pulled over to the side of the road. By this time almost every squad car of the East Sussex police, was heading for Newhaven town. Saxon realised that he was travelling in the wrong direction and did a spectacular handbrake turn and went the wrong way around the one-way system. ‘So, let them arrest me,’ he muttered under his breath.
He drove over a traffic island and sped along the riverside road. Ahead, he saw the helicopter hovering over Jenner. ‘Gotcha,’ said Parker, more than ready for a little action. Saxon had to slow down; the road was narrow, one mistake could send them skidding to the left, ending up in the river. To their right were small boathouses, made of concrete.
‘I don’t know why, sir, but he’s heading for the beach. There’s nowhere to go this way. Either he doesn’t know Newhaven or he’s panicked and gone the wrong way.’ Parker had his hand ready to release his seatbelt the second they came to a halt.
Jenner cursed himself and slammed on his brakes the moment he realised that he had made a mistake. The road had literally come to an end. Some men who were standing on the edge of the harbour, fishing, turned to complain about the gravel that his car sent flying at them, but backed away when they realised that the helicopter hovering overhead was very much to do with him. He found himself in a large rough-surfaced car park with a few small untidy souvenir shops. On one side was the English Channel and the other side, chalk cliffs. Down the far end of the car park, there was a concrete pier, at least four hundred yards long, that stretched out into the Channel. There was nowhere else to go. It would delay the inevitable and give him time to think.
He slammed his Jag into gear and raced to the pier.
Once there, he jumped from his car. Leaving the door wide open, he ran as fast as his weight would allow. People who were fishing off the pier watched in stunned disbelief at the events unfolding around them. The helicopter hovered low, as the pilot spoke through a loudspeaker, telling everyone to vacate the pier immediately. Most of the fishermen complied when they noticed the pistol in his hand.
As Jenner worked his way along the pier, people waited for him to pass them, and then they made their way back to the car park. Except one, and as Saxon said later, ‘There always has to be one who thinks he’s Bruce Bloody Lee.’
This particular man, who had fished from the same spot for the last twenty years, fancied himself as a bit of a martial artist. Even Jenner paused in amazement as the hapless man attempted to disarm him with a flying kick. He sailed through the air past him, screaming something that sounded vaguely Chinese, a second before he landed in the sea.
Saxon stopped his car next to Jenner’s. The armed-response unit arrived seconds later – Saxon and Parker signed for a weapon each, they donned bullet-proof vests, attached earpiece radio microphones and started to slowly follow Jenner along the pier. Flanked by two marksmen as they walked, they kept a wary eye on Jenner who was backing away and stumbling occasionally. The helicopter pilot positioned his aircraft at the end of the pier – hoping to make it plain to Jenner that there was nowhere to go. The pilot repeatedly broadcast a message, warning Jenner that there were armed police approaching him, and ordered him to put down his weapon and to lie down on the ground.
Jenner chose to ignore the warning and continued to make his way further along the pier. By the time he reached the end, all of the anglers had managed to get to safety. The helicopter moved further away in case Jenner decided to empty his gun in their direction – they were unable to land on the pier because of its irregular shape.
Saxon put up his hand to stop the officers either side of him and called to Jenner.
‘Keith, don’t you think it’s time to stop now. I’d hate to sound like one of those cops on the television – but there really isn’t anywhere for you to go. Why don’t we all go back to Brighton and have a talk about this?’
Jenner looked around, breathing heavily through his mouth and wiping the sweat off his forehead with his shirtsleeve. He continually pointed his gun at the four policemen before him one after the other. Parker spoke as he stared into Jenner’s eyes along the barrel of his gun. ‘Nobody’s been seriously injured yet, Keith. I’ve heard that the farmer you stabbed is okay – just a flesh wound. Now is the time to call it a day – but if you continue to point that thing at us, someone is going to lose their nerve, and believe me these officers will shoot to kill.’
Jenner backed away a few more steps. Saxon lowered his gun slightly – not taking his eyes off Jenner for a second. Jenner turned to look at the helicopter, which had moved even further away to ensure that the people on the ground could hear what each other were saying. Saxon could see that Jenner was starting to breathe more slowly. As much as he disliked him, he didn’t want him dead, he wanted information. There had to be a reason why Jenner be
came so agitated as he left Anvil Wood House.
The radio Saxon was wearing crackled into life, and he got the message that the tractor driver was dead. Saxon decided to try another tactic.
‘Keith, look at me, have you got any children?’
Jenner seemed surprised at the question. The situation he found himself in had thrown him mentally and physically. He seemed to be unable to comprehend where he was and what he was doing; he even looked at the gun in his hand from time to time as if it was nothing to do with him. It took him a good twenty seconds before he managed to utter any words.
‘Two, I’ve got two – two boys. Why, what the fuck’s it got to do with you?’
‘It isn’t about me, Keith. What are they going to do if you are killed? We should end this now – sure, you’ve made some big trouble for yourself, but at least nobody’s been seriously hurt up to now.’ Saxon took a few steps closer, but stopped dead when Jenner suddenly put the gun into his mouth. ‘Keith,’ he shouted, ‘get wise for once – what are your children going to think of you when they hear about this on the television. What will happen to them at school when all the other kids take the piss about their dad blowing his head off? Do you want that to happen to them? I don’t think you do – you’re not that sort of bloke are you, Keith?’
Jenner held the gun in his mouth for what seemed like an eternity, and then slowly he removed it and gazed at it with a look of disbelief as he pointed it at the ground.
Parker walked forward, still pointing his gun at Jenner’s chest. Gently, but with a firm tone he told Jenner to put the gun on the ground and then to take three steps back. Jenner complied. The two armed-response officers quickly moved forward, pulled Jenner to his knees and then flat on his face, and handcuffed him.
Saxon stood in front of him as he was helped to his feet. ‘Keith Jenner, I am arresting you for murder. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you under-stand?’
Saxon Page 24
