Dead Lucky

by Matt Brolly

  ‘Tell me everything,’ said Mooney.

  Lambert spent the next twenty minutes recapping the case, omitting only the details about the Watcher calling him and Kennedy.

  ‘Elaine Jacobson’s autopsy report proclaimed her death as suicide, correct?’ said Mooney, once Lambert had finished speaking.

  ‘Correct, sir, but her injuries were almost identical to those suffered by Moira Sackville, DI Lennox, and the Dempsey family.’

  ‘So you think the Watcher may have killed Elaine Jacobson all those years ago and started back thirty years later? Sounds very similar to the last case you worked on? Isn’t it a bit of coincidence DCI Lambert?’

  Lambert had noticed the connection with the Souljacker, who had started killing after a twenty-year hiatus, though this was a completely different set of circumstances.

  ‘I can only go where the evidence takes me. My focus at present is on finding Neil Barnes.’

  ‘I’ve heard enough,’ said the Chief Constable.

  All eyes fell on the man who had his hand to his chin, deep in thought. ‘I need you to work closely with Chief Superintendent Tyler, and DS Harrogate. As you know, it’s Blake’s party tomorrow. It’s possible that Blake’s competitors, or his collaborators, whichever way you wish to see them, were responsible for DC Sawyer’s death. I want the men responsible found. If you are so keen to investigate Blake, you can deal with this at the same time as the Watcher murders.’

  ‘Glenn will fill you in on the details, Lambert,’ said Mooney.

  Harrogate and Tyler followed Mooney out in silence. Tillman went over and shut the door as they left.

  ‘What the hell was all that about?’ asked Lambert.

  Tillman shook his head and sat down. ‘They know the Croatians were responsible for the beheading, it’s their MO. I truly didn’t know anything about it.’

  ‘What’s this about working together with Harrogate?’

  ‘If it could be any other way, Michael, it would be. They’ve asked that Kennedy be present at Blake’s party tomorrow evening. We’ve got her a position working for the waiting staff.’

  ‘So she’s working for Tyler and Harrogate now?’

  ‘She’s working for all of us. That’s why Mooney wants you to work with Harrogate. She hasn’t been with you to see Blake?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So, he won’t recognise her?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought so, unless he’s checked up on us. Is it really necessary, Glenn?’

  ‘She’s worked undercover before. She has an aptitude for it, and this way we’re still part of the investigation.’

  Lambert relented, understanding, and disappointed, that Tillman could do nothing about it.

  Chapter 52

  Lambert left Tillman’s office without returning to his desk. He took the lift downstairs and left the building. He was thankful no one had tried to stop him, a little disappointed he didn’t run into Harrogate so he could give him a piece of his mind.

  The encounter had reminded him of the reasons he’d been reluctant to return to his role at the NCA – the politics, and mind games. It was clear that Tyler was friends with the Chief Constable, and had called in a favour for him to be present. It was the only way he would have got Tillman to roll over like that. They had all but said that Lambert was responsible for the death of the undercover officer, Sawyer. It had been disrespectful, dragging him like that to face questioning, especially with a junior officer present.

  It was raining again, the June weather going from one extreme to the other. Lambert stopped at a bar called The Railway and ordered a pint of lager which he downed almost in one. ‘Another,’ he told the bored-looking barmaid.

  Lambert paid, and took his drink to a corner of the room where he could see the main entrance. He took a sip of the second drink then pushed it away. He needed to keep a clear head. He’d been in these circumstances before, higher ranks thinking they knew better. Now was the time for logical thinking, free of emotion.

  In these types of cases, motive was often non-existent. If the Watcher had killed that young girl all that time ago, and made it look like suicide, then it was possible he’d got a taste for it. His only motive would be the desire to kill, and perhaps the need for someone to watch. For all Lambert knew, the Watcher could have been active for years. Experience also told Lambert that it was possible the killer wasn’t working alone. Add in the fact that someone else, pertaining to be the Watcher, had been calling him and Kennedy, and the picture was more than muddied.

  With Kennedy being taken off the case to attend the party, that picture was unlikely to clear any time soon. Lambert took a last drink of the lager, making a decision. He would work with Harrogate tomorrow, would make sure that Kennedy was safe at Blake’s party, but then all bets were off. But first, he had somewhere to be.

  The safe house was an unimposing terraced house. Lambert would have liked a bit more security in place, but the budget was stretched as it was. He’d called ahead, so the guarding officer was not surprised to see him. ‘I’m afraid he’s been drinking again,’ said the man.

  Lambert rolled his eyes, but knew there was little they could do. Depriving Sackville of alcohol at present was not really an option. ‘Take some time off,’ he told the officer. ‘Stretch your legs and get back here in thirty.’

  Sackville was sprawled on the sofa watching the news, a glass of whisky in his hand. He glanced over at Lambert before returning his gaze to the television, his eyelids hanging so low that his eyes were nearly shut.

  ‘I’ll make some coffee,’ said Lambert.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ said Sackville.

  ‘At least put the drink down, Eustace, before you spill it.’

  Sackville turned his head to face him, so slow as to be comical. ‘Make me.’

  Lambert chuckled and sat on the armchair next to the sofa. He would have asked Sackville how he was, how he was coping, but the question would be redundant. One look at the man gave him all the information he needed. Sackville was doing little more than existing and if he carried on this way he wouldn’t be doing that for very long. ‘We need to get you some help, Eustace.’

  Sackville lifted his glass. ‘I have all the help I need here, thanks.’

  Lambert switched on his iPad. ‘One more thing for you to look at, Eustace. Please. Put the drink down for a minute.’

  Sackville sighed. ‘Fine,’ he said, placing his whisky glass on the floor.

  Lambert showed him a picture of Elaine Jacobson. ‘Elaine Jacobson was a former occupant at St Matthew’s. Her body was found almost exactly thirty years ago. She had two cuts to her wrists.’

  Sackville grabbed the laptop and looked at the photo of the teenage girl. ‘It’s been going on all this time?’

  ‘I’m not sure. The pathologist reached a verdict of death by suicide… but like I said, I’m not sure.’ Lambert retrieved the iPad and scrolled through the pictures of Jacobson’s corpse until he reached the sole picture of a ten-year-old boy. ‘Neil Barnes,’ he said, handing the iPad back to the journalist.

  Lambert saw the recognition in Sackville’s eyes. He gripped the iPad tight as if its solidity depended on the strength of his grip. ‘I know this boy,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘You met him?’

  ‘He came to my office once, I couldn’t believe it. He must have been nine or ten. He began crying. He pleaded for me to intervene. He knew I was investigating Blake. He told me a friend of his was one of Blake’s girls. He thought I could stop them.’

  ‘What did you say to him?’

  ‘What could I do, Lambert? Blake had already given me his warning. He had the cops on his side. I told him to go away.’

  Lambert’s skin prickled. He tore the iPad from Sackville. ‘You’ve seen these, Eustace?’ he said, showing Sackville the images of Elaine Jacobson’s corpse, the vacant face of the young girl, the appalling contrast of her white skin and the red blood. ‘She was the first, Eustace. You must have known about this?’


  Eustace looked at the girl, was probably transposing a picture of his wife onto the body. ‘I had nothing to do with that place following this,’ he said, lifting his shirt as if Lambert had forgotten the injuries inflicted on him by Blake. ‘I wouldn’t have heard about a suicide. I’m sure they swept it under the carpet.’

  ‘But don’t you see, Eustace. That’s where it all started. That’s why Moira’s dead, why the Dempsey family were killed.’

  Sackville stretched down and picked up his glass.

  Lambert stood and swiped the glass from his hand, the glass flying into the wall and smashing. ‘If I find out you knew about Elaine Jacobson, I’ll come back for you, Eustace.’

  Sackville refused to meet his eye.

  Lambert left the man to his television, not waiting for his babysitter to return. Sackville had proved something to him which he’d been suspecting for some time. He was now convinced of the Watcher’s identity.

  Chapter 53

  Matilda sat in the office with Chief Superintendent Tyler and DS Harrogate, going over her role for what felt like the hundredth time. It was the morning of Curtis Blake’s sixtieth birthday, and she’d hoped Lambert would have arrived by now. He’d called her late last night, after visiting Eustace Sackville. He’d sounded distant, as if his mind was elsewhere. He was supposed to be in the meeting now, going over who would be at present at the party, working on secondary and tertiary plans should she run into trouble.

  ‘One more run through of the staff,’ said Harrogate, handing her a file brimming with mugshots and text.

  It all seemed a bit of overkill to her. She was going undercover for the evening, but only as a member of the waiting staff. Her role was to observe and listen. She’d already memorised the list of Blake’s staff. His official staff – the security team, the accountants and lawyers – and the more unofficial members. Matilda listed the names of everyone on the list verbatim, without opening the file.

  ‘Good,’ said Tyler.

  ‘The Croatians,’ said Harrogate.

  Tyler and Harrogate knew less about the Croatian gang Blake was supposedly in cahoots with. Harrogate had showed her details of a five-year operation on the gang, who they believed were involved in trafficking young girls out of Croatia to work in and around London. They believed Blake had helped them set up in the city, but it looked as if the relationship had turned sour. Sawyer had been drip feeding intelligence to that effect, intelligence which had resulted in his brutal murder.

  It was hard to avoid the feeling that the two men in the room with her were clutching at straws. It wasn’t her place to say, but sending her in as an undercover operative smacked of desperation. She understood the need not to stand still, the desire to avenge Sawyer’s death, but there didn’t seem to be any feasible plan in place. It was more a case of turning up and seeing what happened. Matilda would be wired, and would let them know if the Croatians made an appearance. It seemed unlikely to her, but she played along, following instructions which she didn’t believe in.

  ‘Dalibor Perko, Mijo Babić, Jakon Petric.’ She’d been up until the early hours memorising the names, the case histories and the suspected crimes. The Croatians’ operation was slick and cautious. It seemed unlikely to her that they would attend Blake’s party. If the relationship was still a working one, then they might send one or two of their operatives as a sign of good faith. If the relationship was destroyed, as feared, then she couldn’t see them attending. From everything she’d read, they worked under the radar. They wouldn’t start a turf war with Blake, at least not one so out in the open.

  Lambert arrived just as Tyler was wrapping up. ‘Good of you to join us, Lambert,’ he said, unable to hide his derision.

  ‘I’ll get the details from Kennedy,’ said Lambert, either unable, or unwilling, to apologise for his late arrival.

  ‘You need to be at the agency in just under an hour,’ said Tyler looking at his watch. He packed up his files and left, followed by Harrogate obediently in tow.

  ‘They love you,’ said Matilda.

  ‘It’s not my operation, and I’m not wasting my time on it.’

  ‘Fair enough. Have you located Neil Barnes?’ Matilda had only agreed to go undercover because of the possibility that Blake was somehow involved, and that the operation would draw out the killer.

  ‘No, he’s a ghost. Disappeared.’ Lambert picked up the files. ‘You’ve studied all this?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What are they expecting is going to happen? Gang warfare in Hampstead?’

  ‘I’m not sure even they know. I think it’s more hope than anything.’

  ‘I take it he hasn’t called you again?’

  Matilda shook her head. The Watcher had only called her the once. ‘You?’

  Lambert took a deep breath. ‘No. You’ve had gun training?’

  ‘Of course.’ Kennedy had been in The Group before it was dissolved, where everyone received fire arms training.

  ‘You need to be armed tonight.’

  ‘Tyler hasn’t suggested anything?’

  ‘He doesn’t have the clearance. I’ll confirm with Tillman, make it official, but I think the Watcher has something planned for tonight.’

  Matilda wasn’t sure. Being armed brought with it its own dangers, being discovered for one. ‘What if they search me?’

  Lambert rubbed a day’s worth of stubble on his face. It was the most stressed she’d seen him since the case began. His eyes narrowed as he considered the situation. ‘You’re probably right, I was frisked when I went there. You’ll be in radio contact?’

  ‘If I didn’t know you better, sir, I’d say you were worried.’ She’d never seen Lambert like this, he wasn’t thinking clearly.

  ‘Just use your head. Keep in contact, and get out if you smell trouble.’

  ‘I better be going, need to change into my outfit.’

  Lambert nodded and she left the office, an uneasy silence between them.

  An hour later, she was inside the gated area of Curtis Blake’s home. It was even more grandiose than she’d been led to believe. She tried to befriend some of the other waiting staff on the way in. The majority of them knew each other but she’d met a couple of girls who were on their first job for the agency.

  At present, they were at the back of the house standing on a pebbled area next to the entrance to the kitchens. Two of Blake’s security details were guarding the door, dressed in identical suits and sunglasses like clichéd CIA agents.

  ‘What is this?’ said one of the agency staff, a stocky young woman who looked woefully out of her comfort zone wearing a tight fitting black dress. Her arms were decorated in tattoos, her hair shaved except for a shock of black hair which spiked out on the right side of her scalp.

  The guards ignored her, the staff beginning to get restless. Seconds later, the taller of the two guards lifted his hand. ‘I need two lines,’ he said.

  ‘What the hell?’ said the tattooed woman.

  ‘One more word from you, and you’re out,’ said the guard.

  The woman looked as if she’d been slapped in the face. She glanced at her colleagues for support, but the rest of the staff refused to meet her eye, the promise of the inflated hourly rate too much to risk.

  Every member of staff was frisked by the guards before being allowed to enter. Two of the staff were turned away, both men in their early twenties, the guards refusing to give a reason. The taller of the guards stopped Matilda and made her hold her arms out and spread her legs. His hands were rough as he checked practically every part of her. He took off his sunglasses and made a show of looking at her. It was a cheap and obvious way of showing dominance but the tactic had worked on the rest of the staff, who were waiting in the kitchen area subdued.

  ‘I’m on,’ she whispered, hoping the minute recorders stitched into her clothing were still working.

  Chapter 54

  Rain battered against the windscreen as Lambert sat in the car reflecting on what Sackvi
lle had told him. He was now convinced Neil Barnes was the Watcher.

  Lambert realised he’d been looking at Elaine Jacobson’s death all wrong. She had committed suicide. She’d committed suicide because no one would listen to Neil Barnes’ complaints.

  Barnes had gone to DI Lennox and complained about what was happening at the home, only to be ignored.

  He’d gone to Eustace Sackville who had been writing a story on the home and the prostitution ring Curtis Blake was running out of the place, but Sackville had let him down. Out of pure cowardice he’d refused to print the story.

  And lastly Laura Dempsey, the home’s nurse, who had known what was happening to Elaine and the other girls. Neil Barnes had gone to her and she too had turned a blind eye.

  And because of the inactivity of those three people, Elaine Jacobson had committed suicide.

  Lambert wondered if Barnes had found the girl the morning after. If he’d known what she’d planned to do. Either way, the effect on the boy’s life had been dramatic. Lambert believed he’d spent the rest of his life avenging Elaine’s demise. He killed Lennox as a test run, using the same method to murder him as Elaine had used to kill herself.

  Once he’d got that out of his system he moved onto Eustace Sackville. He killed Sackville’s wife and made Eustace watch. He’d then done the same to Laura Dempsey. He’d killed all her family and again she’d been forced to watch his handiwork. Eustace and Laura were now like the killer, perfectly alone.

  The killer had told Lambert that he was like him, now he understood why. With no daughter and a soon to be ex-wife, Lambert was effectively alone in the world. But the killer meant more. Lambert still had Sophie and her child, he still had Sarah May. The comparison was meant as a warning. Curtis Blake’s party was only hours away. Lambert knew he had to find Neil Barnes’ real identity before then.

  He logged onto The System and tried every search imaginable. It was obvious Barnes wasn’t using his real name. He would have probably changed it aged eighteen and the deed poll records for name changes back then were non-existent. It was easier than people imagined to change identity, to rid yourself of the past. And it would be impossible to track Barnes that way.