by DS Butler
As she made a note of one of the names, a thought that had been running around her head all day struck her again. There were so many easier ways to kill people. This had to be some kind of statement.
Why were they using snakes, and why a Russell’s viper in particular? She’d been instructed to approach the process logically by looking through the licences, but there was another way to come at this problem. A way that Charlotte thought would give them a better chance of success.
Handling snakes like this was a risky business. They might be after a deranged killer, but even deranged killers had self-preservation tendencies which meant surely they would want a supply of antivenom to hand.
If they were handling such a venomous snake, they would definitely want a supply handy. Charlotte made a note to look at suppliers of antivenom. If she could get a list of suppliers, and then see who they had sent antivenom to recently, she might get lucky.
Charlotte smiled. That made sense. Even if the killer wasn’t holding the snakes legally and didn’t have the Dangerous Wild Animals Licence, she still had a chance of tracking them through the antivenom.
Charlotte threw down her pen and grinned, pleased with her idea.
She searched the Internet, looking through suppliers of antivenom that shipped to the UK, and started to make a list. But twenty minutes later, she felt her eyelids drooping, and she knew she had to finish up for the night. She would get back to it first thing tomorrow morning.
She called a cab, and five minutes later, grabbed her coat and bag and switched off the lights as she left. As soon as she stepped outside Wood Street station, bundled up in her winter coat, she saw her cab pull up. She used a firm local to her, which was based in the East End.
She recognised the driver, Johnny, and smiled.
As she walked towards the taxi, she had the uncanny feeling that she was being watched. She turned and scanned the dark shadows. The skin prickled on the back of her neck, but she couldn’t see anyone.
She slipped into the back of the cab and said hello to Johnny. She looked over her shoulder, out of the back window. She’d been sure that someone had been watching her.
But when Johnny pulled the taxi away from the curb and headed towards the East End, Charlotte forced herself to relax.
22
WHEN MACKINNON WOKE THE next morning to the beeping of the alarm on his mobile phone, he groaned. It was five thirty in the morning, and he really didn’t want to get up. He was cocooned in the warm duvet. The bedroom was freezing. Derek’s central heating didn’t come on for another hour.
He forced himself to get out of bed, shivering, and when he made his way into the equally cold bathroom and glanced in the mirror, he winced. His face showed every hour of sleep he hadn’t had last night.
He stepped into the shower, and the hot water slowly made him feel more human. He headed straight out as soon as he’d dressed, not bothering to eat breakfast or even get a coffee. He could do that at the station.
He took the underground to work, travelling on one of the first trains. The underground was quiet at this time of the morning, and it was nice to get on a train and not feel like he was in a sardine can.
As soon as he came above ground and swiped his Oyster card at the barrier, he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He reached for it and saw Chloe’s name flashing on the screen.
“Morning, sweetheart. You’re up early.”
“Jack,” she said, and he could tell by that single word that she was tense. “Katy is refusing to go to school. She won’t get out of bed, and she is supposed to be in early today for rehearsals.”
“I know how she feels,” Mackinnon said. “I didn’t want to get up either. It’s cold this morning.”
“It’s not that. It’s this whole bullying problem. She’s refusing to go to school. She’s said she is never going back there. Nothing I say is getting through to her. Can you have a word?”
“I can try, but I’m not sure what good it will do. Why would she listen to me if she doesn’t listen to you?”
“It’s worth a try. I’m at my wits’ end,” Chloe said, and Mackinnon heard her steps on the stairs.
She said, “Here, you can talk to Jack and explain why you’re not going to school today.”
“I’m not going and you can’t make me!” Katy’s voice came through the phone loud and clear.
Mackinnon moved the phone a centimetre or so away from his ear. “Look,” he said. “I know you’re trying to convince your mum that you need to go to another school. But you’ve got to act like an adult about it, otherwise you won’t get anywhere. I’ll tell you what, I’ll come home tonight and we will all have dinner together and talk it over properly.”
Katy was silent on the other end of the phone.
“Come on. One more day, and we’ll have a proper conversation about it tonight. I promise you we will listen to your point of view. Your mum isn’t trying to do this to hurt you, Katy. She just wants what’s best for you.”
“This school isn’t best for me,” Katy snapped.
“Okay, so we’ll talk about that tonight, and you can explain why it isn’t the best choice for you, and why it’s a good idea for you to go to another school.”
“Will you be on my side?” Katy asked.
“I’m not going to be on anybody’s side,” Mackinnon said. “But I promise that your mum and I will both listen tonight. What do you say? One more day at school and then we can talk about it tonight?”
Katy sighed. “Okay, then. But only one more day.”
When Katy hung up, Mackinnon was nearly at work, so rather than call Chloe back, he sent her a quick text message, telling her he’d be home that night for a family dinner and they could talk to Katy about the problem with the school.
As he walked past a newsstand, he caught a glimpse of the Daily Record. The front page was covered with the story of The Charmer. Mackinnon grabbed a copy.
He turned into Love Lane and saw Wood Street station ahead of him with its traditional police lamps outside.
It was still dark and it would be for another couple of hours yet. Mackinnon hated winter. He couldn’t wait until the days got longer again. Maybe after Christmas he might book a holiday somewhere warm. Right now, he’d settle for anywhere that didn’t cause his teeth to chatter from the cold.
***
DI Tyler had called an early morning briefing, and as he looked around the major incident room, Mackinnon thought most of the team looked as tired as he felt. Tyler sat at the head of the large table, and the rest of the major incident team took their seats around the table. Some of the civilian support staff and indexers who had come in early this morning were also in the room. A few had pulled in chairs from the room next door, and a couple of them leaned back against the wall as there wasn’t space for everyone to sit down around the table.
DI Tyler looked shattered, Mackinnon thought. The strands of his grey hair were wet as though he had just splashed water on his face to try and wake up.
“Obituaries,” Tyler said, jabbing his finger at the scanned image in front of him.
DC Webb was handing around files to everyone. The files contained images and detailed the developments in the case.
“So far the only link we have between the victims is the fact that they both had obituaries sent to them before they died. Someone is playing with them, tipping them off. Apparently, Joe Griffin didn’t think it was worth worrying about, according to his wife Carla, and we know that Beverley Madison had assumed that Jacob Jansen sent her the obituary.” Tyler leaned back in his chair and sighed.
“We can’t find any link between Jacob Jansen and Joe Griffin,” DC Collins said.
“I can’t emphasise enough how important it is to find a link between our victims, Beverley Madison and Joe Griffin. Without it, we are really going to struggle with this investigation. DC Webb have you got anything to report back?”
DC Webb straightened in his chair and tapped his hand against his notepad. He had bee
n assigned the task of tracking down the source of the obituaries.
“I haven’t found out where they were printed yet. I’m working on the assumption that it was a local paper, and I have a list that I’m working my way through. Some of them are online, which should make matters easier, but there are a surprising number of local papers out there.”
“Well, keep at it,” Tyler said. “Once we know which newspaper published these obituaries, we can find out who paid for them and that should lead us to our culprit.”
“Collins?” Tyler prompted.
DC Collins smothered a yawn and put down his cup of coffee, focusing his attention on his notes. “I’ve been going through the statements. We still have some gaps in Joe Griffin’s timeline. I need to speak to a couple of other people who attended Joe Griffin’s classes at the gym.”
Tyler nodded and turned his attention to Charlotte who smiled confidently.
“I’ve been going through the lists we received regarding the dangerous wild animals act and making a shortlist of those people who had been granted licences in this area.”
“Waste of time,” DC Webb muttered.
DI Tyler looked up sharply. “We can’t dismiss anything. We have to be thorough.”
“Well, it’s hardly likely if he was planning to use the venom to kill someone that he would have registered a poisonous snake in his name.”
Evie Charlesworth, who was standing at the back of the room holding a pen and notebook, said, “Actually snakes aren’t poisonous. They’re venomous.”
DC Webb screwed up his face. “What?”
“There’s a difference,” Evie insisted. “They are not poisonous.”
“All right,” DC Webb said irritably. “So they are venomous. That doesn’t change the fact we are unlikely to be dealing with someone stupid enough to register the fact they’ve got a snake.”
“You might be right,” Charlotte said. “I was thinking about this last night, even if they didn’t want to register the fact they had a dangerous snake, they would need one thing.”
Tyler looked up from his notes. “And what is that?”
“Antivenom,” Charlotte said. “Whoever our killer is we know that they are dealing with a highly dangerous toxin. If it was me, handling something like that, I’d like to have a safety net. I’d want to have antivenom on hand just in case.”
“That makes sense.” Tyler nodded. “So we need to look into suppliers of antivenom over the last six months.”
Charlotte nodded. “I’ve started to compile a list of suppliers. We might need a warrant to get the information that we need from them.”
Tyler nodded. “Won’t be a problem. Good work.”
After assigning a few more actions to the team and making sure that everybody knew their role in the investigation, Tyler set down the file on the desk in front of him.
“I can’t emphasise this enough. We need to find a connection between our victims.” Tyler looked steadily at each individual sitting around the table. “There’s no way this is random,” he said. “It can’t be.”
23
AFTER THE BRIEFING, MACKINNON grabbed a cup of coffee and ordered a bacon roll to go from the canteen. He ate his breakfast as he walked in the direction of Moorgate station. He had an appointment with the reptile expert at London zoo. There was no point driving. He knew it would be far quicker to get there using public transport.
He left the underground at Camden Town and walked along Camden High Street towards Regent’s Park and the London zoo.
Mackinnon arrived at the zoo just after it opened at ten am. The cold, miserable December day meant there were fewer tourists than usual gathered around the entrance. Mackinnon was able to gain access quickly by showing his warrant card at one of the turnstiles.
He was escorted by one of the zoo’s employees, a young man dressed all in khaki, to the reptile house. He’d expected to go into the viewing area, but instead, the young man led Mackinnon around the back of the building to the research centre.
The outside of the building was covered in wood, a decorative effect for the tourists’ benefit. The building was actually modern and made of brick. Mackinnon was glad of that. He didn’t like the idea of anything in there escaping.
He’d been reluctant when Tyler first asked him to go and speak to the snake expert. Mackinnon wasn’t exactly enamoured with snakes. He didn’t hate them, but that didn’t mean he wanted to get any closer than he had to.
He was greeted by Claude Peterson, an enthusiastic South African, who was the head of the reptile centre. Claude was only slightly shorter than Mackinnon. He had long hair that reached his shoulders but was thinning on top. His face was lined in a way that made it obvious he was someone who spent a great deal of time in the sun.
Claude pushed up his sleeves and held out a hand to shake Mackinnon’s.
Mackinnon noticed the snake tattoo on Claude’s right forearm.
“I got it when I was drunk,” Claude said with a laugh. “Now, how can I help you? We don’t often have detectives paying visits to our reptile centre.”
“I have a few questions I hope you can answer,” Mackinnon said. “About a snake known as the Russell’s viper.”
“Not a snake to be messed with,” Claude said. “But one to be admired. Here, come inside. I’ll show you our research lab.”
He opened the internal door and led Mackinnon into a large open-plan area. It was kitted out like a laboratory, but on every wall, there were huge, glass tanks, containing heating lamps and various types of foliage and rocks.
Mackinnon looked at the one closest to him. At first he thought it was empty, until he saw a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. He flinched.
Claude laughed. “I see you’re not too keen on snakes, eh?”
“I can’t say they’re my favourite animals,” Mackinnon said. “I’m more of a dog man.”
Claude laughed again. “I hear that a lot, but the snakes aren’t really so bad. They’re quite a marvel of nature.
“We have actually helped many people overcome their phobias. I could get you to hold one if you like? Maybe a harmless corn snake. Just a small one.”
Mackinnon shook his head. “No, thanks. I prefer to see them in their cases like this.”
“Fair enough,” Claude said. “There is something sensible and healthy about having a fear of snakes. In most people, it’s an inbuilt fear.”
Mackinnon nodded. He could relate to that.
“It is scientifically based,” Claude said. “If you think about it, in order to survive out in the wild, it makes sense to be afraid and try to avoid snakes.”
Mackinnon nodded again. It certainly made sense to him.
“This particular little beauty,” Claude said, leaning down and gazing at the dark snake with the bright green pattern. “She is a spitting snake. Fairly dangerous as she actually spits the venom into your eyes.”
Mackinnon was very glad the Perspex was separating him from the snake.
“They don’t want to hurt us,” Claude said. “For them, it is just a matter of survival.”
He took a step forward and then pointed to another of the cases.
“This one is my favourite,” he said to Mackinnon. “This one is a King Cobra.”
The snake he was looking at didn’t have the same spectacular markings of the spitting snake, but its sheer size was impressive.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” Claude asked.
The snake remained motionless, its cold eyes fixed on Mackinnon.
“She is quite a large snake,” Mackinnon said. He didn’t agree with Claude Peterson’s assessment, but he didn’t want to offend him.
Claude smirked. “It was the Russell’s viper you asked me about.” He perched on a stool and gestured to the one next to him for Mackinnon to do the same. “I have some pictures for you. We don’t have one here right now. They are very… Look!” Claude said, looking over Mackinnon’s shoulder and pointing to the case behind him. “She is moving.”
Mackinnon tensed and turned to see the King Cobra slowly shift its position and uncoil its massive body.
Claude laughed at Mackinnon’s response. “I suppose now is not a good time to tell you that we had one escape from its enclosure?”
“Recently?” Mackinnon asked.
“No,” Claude shook his head. “It was a pit viper making a bid for freedom. Somehow it managed to escape. We got into some trouble over that and had to fill out a hell of a lot of paperwork. We still don’t know how she managed it.”
Claude grinned and stood up. “Here, let me show you something I have set up.” Claude walked across to a lab bench at the far side of the room, and Mackinnon followed.
Claude slipped on a pair of latex gloves and then he picked up a pipette. He drew up a small amount of straw coloured liquid from a vial and then reached across to pick up a small container of red liquid.
Claude turned to smile at Mackinnon and held up the container. “This is blood. It’s not human, it would have the same effect if it was, though. Now, watch this…”
He angled the pipette and squirted a tiny drop of the liquid into the blood. Almost instantaneously, the mixture changed. Claude put down his pipette and held up the container of blood.
He shook it from side to side. The blood had turned into a gelatinous mess.
“You see,” Claude said. “The blood cells have clumped together forming this jellylike substance. The venom promotes coagulation — clotting.”
Claude showed Mackinnon photographs of the Russell’s viper, spreading them out on the lab bench.
“We know that the victims are not being bitten by snakes,” Mackinnon said. “Somehow the venom is being extracted and then injected into the victims.”
Claude nodded. “That’s even more dangerous. Some snakes are known to give a dry bite. That’s when the snake will bite, but doesn’t inject venom. And some snakes have highly potent venom but they only inject a very small amount at a time. By injecting an entire syringe full of venom…” Claude gave a low whistle and shrugged. “Do you know the exact volume used?”
