88 Killer th&dl-2

by Oliver Stark

  Back at the start of it all, they still hadn’t worked out how the killer had enticed David Capske to East Harlem. Maybe there was something in it. They’d made so many small discoveries — the whole Nazi story — but none of it led to the killer. They knew so much, but so little. Then something emerged. He hit the desk.

  Denise looked across. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Your profile, Denise. Listen, I’ve had this feeling all along. This terrible feeling that he’s always ahead of us, always in the know.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ said Denise.

  Harper pulled out his shield and looked at it. ‘Remember the bird of prey that Ruth Glass chose? A blue eagle. We thought it was the Eagle of the Third Reich, didn’t we? We fell into that trap. Listen, Denise, the killer took a big risk in taking those kids. I think they hold the key.’

  ‘But they won’t let us near them. You’ve no idea where they are.’

  ‘Maybe they’ve already given us the answer,’ said Harper.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The cop who came out of Lukanov’s apartment. He fooled the detectives, right? And you know what else? I even think that’s how he got away with staying so long at the bodies.’

  ‘I don’t follow,’ said Denise.

  ‘How the hell did he drive the Auxiliary truck to the heart of a police operation without impersonating a cop?’

  ‘I still don’t see what you’re driving at.’

  ‘I’ve got an idea.’ He looked at Denise. ‘Come with me.’

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  Lock-Up, Bedford-Stuyvesant

  March 14, 4.43 p.m.

  Lucy looked all around her. She was in a brick room with a barred window. She looked up at the ceiling. Four shower heads.

  She knew enough about history to know that this was no shower. She looked out of the Plexiglass and saw the metal tubes leading to the bin. She had smelled the strange smell from inside the van. Almond.

  Outside, in his antechamber, a man was sitting on a chair staring into the window. It was him. Someone she had known. Someone she had made a mistake about. An evil man. He was concentrating. He clenched his fists hard in their leather gloves.

  He walked through to the next room. He didn’t appear to want to look at her. He returned with a metal can and walked over to the plastic bucket. Lucy watched him, terror in her eyes. She placed both hands on the Plexiglass and hit hard.

  He would not look at her. He took the new can and opened it. Poured the whole tube of Zyklon B pellets into the plastic bucket. Then he turned and stared at Lucy. All he had to do was open the channel.

  She tried to recall events, but her mind wasn’t functioning. He must have drugged her. She couldn’t remember things in the right order. Lots of the last few hours were blank. She could remember further back. She was his girlfriend, the love of his life, his black-and-white happy ending, his meaning, his everything. Not someone else’s.

  He walked across to the cell and stared inside.

  ‘You’re going to die,’ he said, and smiled. ‘Once upon a time, you made me sane. Just the warm curl of your skin and the smell of your neck — that’s all it took, and the hatred was a world away. You gave me redemption, Lucy, then you took it away.’

  She stared up at him, the tape around her mouth preventing her from speaking, preventing her from pleading.

  ‘You were more than my lover. You never understood that you were my antidote. You were my hope and you left me.’

  He pressed his face against the Plexiglass. ‘I have so much hate and anger inside me now, Lucy, that I can’t get rid of it. I have killed because of you. Then I realized why you hated me. Because you want a Jew for your bed.’ He reached out his hand. ‘I still want you, but I hate myself for it. You excite and repulse me. I found someone who looked like you,’ he said, through the Plexiglass, ‘but she wasn’t enough. She didn’t feel like you, Lucy. She didn’t have what you have. Her name is Abby. She was bigger than you, Lucy. I had to starve her just so I could feel her ribs like I could always feel yours.’

  Lucy stared out, shocked and silent. She was going to die. She knew it with horrible certainty.

  Chapter Ninety-Five

  Central Park

  March 14, 5.15 p.m.

  Harper drove down the side of Central Park with Eddie and Denise in the car.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Denise asked.

  ‘To test a theory.’

  ‘What theory?’

  ‘Just keep your mind open and try to think of what kind of person this could be.’

  Harper turned off and parked in East Drive surrounded by trees. He got out of the car. ‘Hear that?’

  ‘No,’ said Eddie.

  Denise got out of the car too. ‘Nice to hear some wildlife,’ she said. ‘It’s been an intense few days.’

  ‘So many birds in this little park. Makes you think.’

  ‘About what?’ said Eddie.

  ‘Life,’ said Harper. ‘Makes you think about life.’

  ‘What the hell is he on about?’ said Eddie. ‘We came to hear a theory.’

  Harper took out his NYPD shield and opened it up. ‘I needed to tell you this somewhere private. Away from the rest of the team. Away from all the cops we know and love.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Look at my shield. What do you see?’

  ‘A police number,’ said Eddie.

  ‘A gold emblem,’ said Denise.

  ‘And what’s in the emblem?’

  ‘An eagle,’ said Denise. Her voice dropped. The sound of birdsong rose high above them.

  They stopped. Denise and Kasper suddenly saw where Harper was going.

  ‘When did it click?’ said Denise.

  ‘A few hours ago. I’ve just been turning every angle in my head, trying to see if I’m thinking straight.’

  ‘And are you?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure of it. Think about it. It clicked for me with the children. I couldn’t make it work out. How the hell did this killer lure Capske into East Harlem? How did he lure Becky Glass off a street into an alley? How the hell did he dare to sit with Capske all that time? He’s a cop.’

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ said Eddie. ‘How the hell could this happen?’

  ‘It’s the only thing that pulls this all together. He knew the safe house, right? He knew how many people would be there. Christ, he even knew the weak point between shifts. He knows so much, it’s the only possible answer.’

  ‘You might be right,’ said Denise.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about Denise’s psychological fingerprint all day. We’ve got a killer who is fixated on Lucy Steller, a non-Jewish girl. She throws him off. She gets together with a Jew. And this guy’s got levels of anti-Semitic hatred so deep he’s never really acknowledged them, and this is the trigger. She leaves him and he kills someone who looks like her. A Jew. Esther Haeber. Then he abducts a girl who looks very like her. Maybe to try to replace her. But he can’t deal with the lover, David Capske. So he kills him, then tries to disguise it. And now he’s in love with his own power.’

  ‘Damn right,’ said Denise. ‘Lucy’s the trigger. He starts to stalk her after she ends it, then he starts to hassle Jews, and blame them, then he kills one. He starts to let this fantasy grow.’

  ‘Then, he joins Section 88,’ said Harper. ‘But never as a member like the rest. Why conceal his identity even then? Because it would show up. Because he knew, even then, back at the start of this. He’s known all along. How to kill in different precincts, how to stage, how to keep Abby from being fully investigated.’

  ‘How comes he used the same bullet and shit?’ said Eddie.

  ‘Some things he can’t help,’ said Denise. ‘He’s a narcissist. He believes he’s ultimately powerful. The rituals he can’t change. He wants to be known, they are part of this identity, a uniform so that he can express this self.’

  Harper looked up to the sky. ‘He needed a name that allowed him to hide his identity but als
o to display what he was.’

  ‘Sturbe,’ said Denise. ‘A Nazi serial killer.’

  ‘Exactly. He wears the name like a confession.’

  ‘Meaning?’ said Eddie.

  ‘Meaning, people want to show what they’ve done, so he’s wearing the badge — the serial-killer name. Like some sick joke.’

  ‘It’s unbelievable.’

  They stared at each other, a horrible truth dawning. Harper looked from Denise to Eddie. ‘Tell this to no one. Not another soul. If our killer is a cop, then we’ve got to stay one step ahead of him — and that means keeping our communication tight.’

  ‘How do we find him?’ asked Denise.

  Harper smiled.

  ‘What you got, Tom, what you thinking?’

  ‘If it’s a cop, then he’s listening in. He’s got access to case information. You know what we do?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘We use the same lure on him that he’s used on others.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The lure of authority.’

  ‘How?’

  Harper sat down on the hood of his car. ‘We’ve got to frighten him into believing we do know his face or are about to. I guess that’s what he did with Capske. I guess he had something to sell. I guess he told Capske that he wanted to put things in the past with Lucy. We do the same. We lure him to us.’

  ‘What’s the plan, big man?’ said Eddie.

  ‘We go back in. We claim we’ve found something. A roll of film — that’s it. A roll of film from Lucy Steller’s apartment, dated according to her journal on some trip and labeled Yellowstone. It might be enough of the truth to get him interested.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Eddie. ‘She was a good photographer. Used 35mm film. She had lots of photographs of animals from that trip. No reason why there wasn’t another film.’

  Harper nodded. ‘We make all this known, we send the film to the photographic lab, then we lie in wait. And then he’ll come to us.’

  Chapter Ninety-Six

  North Manhattan Homicide

  March 14, 8.33 p.m.

  The plan had been set. They didn’t even tell Lafayette the truth. They only wanted the three of them to know. Any more added extra layers of doubt. A single offhand word, the smallest indication that it was a fraud and they were dead in the water. And that meant Lucy and Abby were also dead.

  The evidence was sealed in a brown paper evidence bag. Harper brought it into North Manhattan Homicide after a further visit to Lucy Steller’s apartment.

  He threw it down on the table and called to Denise, ‘Hey, we’ve found something that might give up the clue to this boyfriend.’

  ‘What have you got?’ said Denise. The team listened in.

  ‘We’ve got a roll of film. Lucy used an old 35mm camera. She liked to take shots. This is dated the last week of May last year — anything in the journals?’

  Denise nodded and moved towards her desk. The other members of Blue Team started to draw in.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Garcia.

  ‘Film from Lucy Steller’s place. Dated. Could have shots of the killer,’ said Harper.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ said Garcia, ‘and it’s just been sitting there all this time.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Denise rushed back over with an open journal. ‘That’s fantastic,’ she said. ‘Lucy spent the whole week with this guy in Yellowstone. This is dynamite.’

  Harper banged the table. ‘We might just have him. Let’s get this down to the photographic lab, see if they can get us something.’

  Harper made sure that the team spoke about the new evidence via email, radio and phone. He had no idea who the killer was or how and when he was listening, but things were getting increasingly tense so he presumed the killer had some direct line.

  Harper, Kasper and Levene made their way down to the Forensic Unit’s photography labs. They checked in the evidence and walked through the corridors.

  ‘We need to stick with the evidence,’ said Harper. ‘If he comes, it has to be tonight. Tomorrow would be too late if we had the film.’

  ‘What about me?’ said Denise.

  ‘I want you to sit in the parking lot, keep an eye on who’s coming and going. Try to give us some warning.’

  The three of them walked to the photographic lab and looked into the room. ‘That’s the in-tray over there,’ said Harper. ‘In thirty minutes that’s where our lure will be sitting.’

  Chapter Ninety-Seven

  Lock-Up, Bedford-Stuyvesant

  March 14, 9.15 p.m.

  The killer threw open the door of the lock-up and went inside. Several dogs were around his feet. He stared into the cell where Lucy was lying and snarled, ‘You hid things from me!’

  Lucy turned and shivered. ‘I didn’t do anything on purpose,’ she cried out.

  The dogs ran into the room and darted up to the Plexiglass and the door of the cell. They could smell the new intruder and sense their master’s anger. The killer crossed to the cell and smashed the Plexiglass with his fist. ‘Think, Lucy, or I’ll cut your veins and let these dogs in.’

  ‘Think about what?’

  ‘Me, Lucy — images, pictures, videos of me.’

  ‘I… there weren’t… you made me destroy them.’

  ‘I thought I did, but you lied — you had more.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Think, Lucy. You have three minutes to let me know what was on that film.’

  ‘What film?’

  ‘Yellowstone. Our trip. What was on that film.’

  ‘I…’

  ‘Three minutes.’

  The killer left and the dogs continued to circle and bark and jump up against her cell.

  A moment later, he returned with a large package. He heaved it into the corner. It was a white powder. A chemical with a big hazard sign emblazoned on the side.

  ‘This is going to end badly, Lucy,’ he shouted. ‘They think they’ve got me cornered, but I’ve got something in store for them.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Ammonium nitrate, Lucy.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘You’ll find out one way or another.’

  The killer left again and returned with another sack of the same white granules. He hauled it across to the corner. Lucy was staring, petrified. He left again and returned with two bags of nails and threw them on the ground next to the sacks.

  ‘I didn’t take any pictures of you. You didn’t allow me.’

  ‘Secret pictures, Lucy. Did you take any secret pictures?’

  ‘Only pictures of the park, and the marmoset and the moose. Not you. I promise.’

  ‘Not good enough. One minute and they’ll eat you alive.’

  The killer brought in two three-foot pipes that had been sawn down. He threw them to the side, then shut the door.

  ‘Things are changing quickly, Lucy. The world is changing quickly too. It’s not enough to live, you have to make a difference, leave a legacy. I could’ve gone on for years, but things change. They want this to end badly? Well, that’s what it’s going to do.’

  ‘I can’t help,’ she said.

  The killer marched across to the door and grabbed a large German Shepherd by the scruff of its neck.

  ‘Let’s see how honest you’re being.’ He opened the bolt and entered the cell. The dog saw Lucy. She was weeping and crying and shaking. The German Shepherd barked and bared its teeth.

  The killer kicked the door shut and moved across, holding the dog firmly. ‘Now, Lucy, what was on that film?’

  He moved the dog’s snapping jaw close to Lucy’s face. The teeth flashed and the bark was high and persistent. She shook and held her hands to her ears.

  ‘You!’ she shouted. ‘A picture of you!’

  The killer moved back. ‘You were always a liar and a coward. What faith did you ever show me? None. I loved you so much and you gave me nothing, and now this. You betray me to the cops.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything on purpos
e. I really don’t know. I really don’t.’

  ‘It’s over now,’ he said. ‘It’s all going to change. It’s going to be big. It’s going to change the world for good.’

  Chapter Ninety-Eight

  Photography Labs, Manhattan

  March 15, 2.15 a.m.

  The CSU photography lab was built of slabs of cinder block which were painted black. Rows of computers ranged one wall, while the rest of the room was lined with different lenses, enlargers and projectors. To the right, a room with a red light held the developing lab.

  The majority of photographic work undertaken by the team was digital. Fewer and fewer jobs involved film, and when they did, the team soon uploaded the pictures on to a screen to enlarge and manipulate.

  Still, most cops liked big glossy prints and the unit processed hundreds of prints each day, collecting the vast array of disturbing images from crime scenes across the city and sending out prints for the files.

  The analysis work was complicated too. Working out locations from the merest details or the time of day from the detail of a single shadow. It was a busy, round-the-clock office except for now.

  The last of the team had clocked off at 11 p.m., leaving Harper and Kasper alone. As agreed, Denise was stationed outside in a car.

  Inside the building, the corridors went quiet. The night lights flickered on, providing just enough light to allow the security guards to walk the long tour of duty through the facility. The security guards were still patrolling, but tonight they had been told to leave any lone intruder to Harper and Kasper.

  Harper had placed the package on the counter by the far wall. He figured that the killer would see it from the corridor, through the big plate-glass window. But to put his hands on it, he would have to walk into the lab and past the three-tier shelving units.

  Behind the first unit, Harper was sitting with his gun on the shelf. He had moved the boxes and books to give him a vantage point. Kasper was on the opposite side of the room. They could just about see each other to signal.