Something resonated in Steel’s mind, something he had read while quickly going through the other cases. He scrolled back and made a note of the day and the time each person died. He sat back in his chair again and looked at the piece of paper in his hand. Each victim had died on consecutive days in the week, starting on the Monday with Donald Major, who had been an electrician. In addition, each person had died at around twelve o’clock midday. Could it be coincidence, he wondered?
Captain Brant had been right. The shit had certainly hit the fan over in New York, but there was nothing he could do. For all he knew his instincts had been wrong, and he had been sent on a wild goose chase. However, things had happened whilst he had been on this ship, there was no denying that.
Steel leaned back and flexed his muscles underneath his shirt. Before breakfast, he had done a good two hours workout in the gym, mostly to make up for his lack of gym exercise the night before, and it had helped to clear his mind as he blew off steam. Now he was feeling the effects in his tightening muscles as he stretched out in the chair.
He looked around outside the café at the wandering groups of people, all completely oblivious to the goings-on of the past couple of days. He shook his head and then got back to work.
It was important to find out why the engineer boy had died. And was the death of Jane Doe, trapped in the sauna last night, somehow connected? He remembered the captain’s conversation below deck, of how he was the last one to see the boy alive. Steel looked blankly at his empty teacup and at the tiny traces of black tea-leaves in the dregs. He had heard that the boy was an apprentice to one of the chief engineers on board. If Steel could find the man, maybe he would be able to fill in some of the blanks.
John cleared the computer’s history cache, then ventured out into the sea of people and made his way to the elevator that would take him to the lower decks. All the while he was on the lookout to see if he could catch a glimpse of Tia. He had checked her room, but it looked as if nobody had been there in a while. He knew she was on the ship, but where on the ship was the question. The only feasible theory was that the Stewarts had her held prisoner somewhere, but why they should do so was also a mystery. They were a long way from Vigo now, so whoever had tried to kill her there was long gone.
John reached the elevators, pressed the call button, and then leaned against the wall next to the polished doors. Moments later they slid open and he stepped into the quiet of the steel box. Just as the doors were closing, he caught a glimpse of Missy and her new friend Colin Bishop walking arm in arm together in the swell of the crowd. Interesting, Steel thought as he pressed the button for Deck Three. From there he would have to walk down to the engineering and cargo holds, as he had no security pass to use the elevators on those floors.
The engineers’ relaxation room was empty apart from a tall, strange-looking thin man. He sat at one of the tables sipping tea whilst doing a crossword puzzle. His pale complexion gave an impression of illness, not helped by his extreme thinness and the scruffy black pants and black turtleneck that he wore. He was alone and it looked as if solitude was his preference. If someone came in, they would hurry out again to his great delight, it seemed that even the tough powerful looking guys were uneasy around him. He sat with his back to the wall and one eye on the entranceway, as if wary of impending accidents.
Jim Docket walked in, unaware that he was not alone. As he walked to the coffee machine he picked up the glass vessel that contained the strong-looking liquid and poured himself a mugful, his hand shaking as he lifted the jug to pour, almost missing his target. His mind was full of thoughts of his lost protégé, the boy Walter.
He had not seen the lad’s body. He couldn’t bring himself to look upon his corpse. He wanted to remember Walter as he had been, bright and enthusiastic and full of life. He slid the coffee pot back into the machine and turned towards the seating area. He stopped and stared straight into the strange man’s eyes, and anger grew within him as Jim saw the man just sitting there, looking up at him as though nothing was amiss.
“You!” Jim’s voice growled like an angry grizzly bear, as he approached the man with both fists clenched, ready to fight. Even though Jim was not a young man he could still do some serious damage with his fists and that’s exactly want he wanted to do at that moment. The strange man didn’t move, he just sat there looking up at Jim through large bloodshot eyes.
“Why did you kill him?” Jim demanded.
“He did what you asked, so why?” The thin man’s face registered confusion.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
Jim roared at the denial of his guilt, his only thoughts were of pulverizing the weasely man in front of him.
“Mr. Docket, I never did anything to the boy apart from scare the living daylights out of him. When he left me he was very much alive and yelling his head off.” The man recaptured the memory of the boy running out of the cargo hold.
The man dressed in black stood up, closed his pocket watch, and placed it in the pocket of his black shirt. He was much taller than Jim, but he didn’t have the other man’s powerful frame. Indeed his emaciated body looked hardly able to lift the coffee cup, let alone be a danger to anyone. He left the room, his movements slow and deliberate. Then he stopped and turned his head slightly.
“Anyway, I thought the boy’s death was an accident,” he muttered.
“I heard he had tripped and hung himself.” Jim shook his head.
“No, I spoke to the doc. Someone had staged it to look like that.”
The strange man turned to face Jim.
“Why would you think that I killed him, Mr. Docket? What possible motive would I have?”
Jim looked away for a second, his mind going through the questions. All he wanted was just one incriminating answer, and that would be good enough for him to rip the man apart. But he couldn’t find one. To his frustration he had to admit that this guy was right. He had no reason to kill Walter.
“Mr. Docket, in my business discretion is necessary, until it’s not required anymore. And believe me, I have to be discreet in this situation. If I had killed someone, trust me, there would be no body and I’d have provided a credible suicide note.”
As Jim looked into the man’s eyes he knew he was telling the truth. The man was undoubtedly evil, Jim had no doubt about that, and that fact alone suggested that he wouldn’t hesitate to solve problems in ways Jim didn’t want to think about.
“No, Mr Docket, I didn’t kill your friend.” The man paused and looked at an old pocket watch he had pulled from his coat pocket for a moment, then turned back to face Jim.
“But it would be interesting to find out who did.” Jim’s stomach turned as the man’s face took on a grimace of evil. This was the look of a man who was seeking revenge, but not for the boy. It was more as if someone had upset his plans and he wanted blood. Someone was going to pay and Jim couldn’t think of anyone better to administer rough justice.
Jim sat down and sighed as he felt his pulse beginning to slow to a normal rate as the strange man left the room. With a shaky hand, he lifted the coffee cup to take a sip from the brew, then he looked up over the rim of the cup and saw a man standing leaning on the opposite wall with his hands in his jacket pockets. Jim spat out a mouthful of coffee at the sudden shock at seeing someone there.
“I’m very sorry that your friend died,” Steel said.
“Who are you and how the hell did you get in here?” Jim demanded.
“My name is Antony Black, and I just walked in—no one stopped me.”
Jim looked up at him, and then at the door which was shut.
“Okay, Mr Black or whatever your name is, this is for crew only so I must insist that you leave.” Jim looked in surprise as Steel walked over to the chair opposite Jim and sat down.
“The boy worked under you, didn’t he?” Steel could see the man’s pain written on his face. Jim looked stunned for a second, wondering how this stranger knew so much. Was he the one who had
killed the boy?
“I asked you to leave, Mister.” Jim growled, his words vibrating at the back of his throat.
“The boy was tortured before he died. I was wondering why?” Steel’s eyes locked onto Jim’s as they sized one another up.
“Now how would you know that, may I ask?” Jim’s expression was bitter and full of accusation.
Steel’s eyes were full of sympathy. “Because, my friend, I saw his body. Someone had used a taser on him. What had he done or seen?”
Jim shook his head, images of the boy flashing across his mind’s eye. Steel could see the man was in no state to be messed around. Clearly something else had recently upset him.
The investigator walked across to Jim and offered his hand.
“Look. I am truly sorry about your friend. I work with the NYPD and I want to find who did this. I just want to help. I’m trying to find out who killed the boy and the woman in the sauna last night.”
The engineer looked confused. “I thought what happened to that poor woman was an accident.”
John Steel shook his head as he crossed the room and poured himself a coffee.
“No, she was murdered. Someone broke her back and left her in there. I am waiting on the doc’s report, but I reckon she had been in there pretty much all day.”
Jim’s face screwed up at the thought of the woman slowly boiling to death.
“Who would do such a thing?” John sat down opposite the other man and took a sip from the coffee.
“The same person who wanted your boy out of the way.”
Jim Docket looked down at his coffee, his mind awash with too many facts.
“Before Walter disappeared, what was he doing?”
Jim thought back to that last morning, the boy and his piece of rope, then his cheerful thoughts were swamped by the thought of the thin evil man.
“We were in here practicing knots. Then Mr. ‘Bloody’ Williams comes in and gives him a package. ‘Take it to the captain,’ he says. ‘Go straight there and come straight back,’ he says.” Jim shook his head trying to think of a reason why anyone would have wanted to kill him.
“I asked Mr. Williams about it, and the strange thing is he didn’t know any details about the package.” John noticed Jim’s confused expression.
“What did he have to take to the captain?” Steel asked, as he was just about to take a sip from the hot brew.
“It was a box or something. Didn’t look like much though.” Jim shrugged after putting his cup down to demonstrate an approximate diameter with his hands.
“It was about this big and made of black plastic or something, I didn’t really get a good look at it. The lad took it from Williams and then he was gone quick as you like.”
The investigator nodded as he took in the facts. Docket looked at Steel, sizing him up as he sat there drinking the hot coffee, and his gut instinct told him that this stranger was okay.
“You work for the NYPD, do you? So you’re a cop or something?” Steel smiled. “Something is a pretty good description of what I am, yes.”
Docket turned and looked down to the floor beside him as something caught his eye. He smiled fondly and pick up the book of knots that lay there.
“Funny, Walter was getting quite good at these he was, would have made a damn fine sailor, he would.” Jim looked back to where Steel had been sitting, only to find an empty seat and an empty coffee mug. Jim crossed himself twice and drank his coffee nervously.
NINETEEN
McCall arrived back at the station with the electrical engineer Simon Roberts and showed him into one of the briefing rooms where he could work in peace. She crossed the bullpen floor and headed for the break room, and on the way she passed her desk and got her porcelain mug from the bottom drawer.
The floor was busier than normal with phones ringing off the hook at the desks of detectives who were out on calls and other detectives darting here and there, trying to do twelve things at once. As soon as Sam McCall entered the break room, the bitter smell of their new brand of coffee filled her nostrils and she let out a sigh of contentment. She poured a cup and savoured the aroma. She hadn’t had a coffee all day, which made this smell all the more special.
She opened one eye to see Tony and Tooms coming in brandishing their own mugs, ready for a refill.
“Hi, guys,” she said. Sam was pleased to see them and would be all the more pleased if they had made progress with their cases.
“Hey, McCall, any luck with those documents you found?” Tooms sounded as hopeful as she was.
“No, not really. I brought one of the electro wizards back with me to see if he can work something out.” McCall pointed with her head towards the briefing room and the man inside, who sat with his head in his hands studying the plans. She shrugged then filled their mugs with the hot coffee.
“And you. How did you guys get on?”
Tony shook his head as he put milk and sugar into his brew. “Nothing, all we got was that they all died on the Lower East Side of Manhattan—nothing we didn’t already know. We did a cross check like we discussed, but that just led us to a park.” Tony shrugged gloomily. “There goes your lunch-hour theory.”
Sam leaned against the counter and took a slow sip of coffee, her thoughts a million miles away, as she calculated the next move.
“We are missing something, we have to be. Just that one bit of the puzzle.” She looked down at her jacket pocket as it began to vibrate with an incoming call, and placed her cup down and took out the cell phone. It was Tina.
“Hi, what’s up?” McCall just listened as the ME asked her to come down and to bring the others. She put her phone away and looked up at the two detectives.
“Saddle up, Tina has something she wants to show us.” She turned to look at Jenny, who was hard at work at her desk. “All of us.”
The detectives entered the corridors of the ME’s office as if they were taking part in a scene from a western, with McCall in the lead—she smiled as she caught their reflection in the glass of a door at the bottom of the long corridor, and the theme from The Magnificent Seven popped in to her head.
They found Tina standing over the body of Bill Foster as she made her examination. She didn’t look up, but just gave a friendly wave and got back to speaking into the Bluetooth headset as she recorded her notes. The police officers took up positions around the room wherever they could, as they waited patiently for the ME to finish up. After around ten minutes, Tina looked up as she pressed the off button on her headset.
“Glad you could all make it. Okay, here’s the deal. Suicide guy didn’t commit suicide,” Tina announced to everyone’s amazement.
“What do you mean, he didn’t commit suicide?” Sam demanded.
“We have a witness who said the man went into his office alone and upset, and then she heard the shot! There was no one else in the room so how can you be sure he didn’t kill himself?” McCall didn’t doubt Tina, but this flew in the face of the evidence.
Tina picked up Bill Foster’s right hand.
“Now we know that he was a righty but due to a small accident on the squash court two weeks ago he wasn’t able to write his own name. I got his records from his doctor and he confirms that Bill wasn’t able to do anything with that hand.” Tina could see the doubtful look on McCall’s face.
“Shouldn’t he have been wearing a ......”
“A bandage or cast? Yes, he should have been. However, whoever did this removed the cast to throw us off the scent. Well, to try to, anyway.” Tina beamed smugly.
Sam examined the body top to toe, hoping for some revelation to hit her. She finally looked up at Tina.
“Did they find any gunshot residue on the gun? Or prints?”
The ME picked up the file and opened it to look for that particular reference.
“There were traces of GSR on his right sleeve and hand, fingerprints were a match to our vic.” She closed the file and laid it down.
“They only found prints on the trigger and
grip.” Tina was amused to see the look on McCall’s face.
“It was an automatic pistol, wasn’t it?” Sam asked, looking up at Tony who nodded in response.
“Yes, 1911 custom, why?” Tony told her.
Tina and McCall looked at each other, both of them grinning.
“So who cocked the weapon?” Sam asked the question.
“There should be prints on the top slide when he cocked it, also there were no prints on the magazine or rounds. Why wear gloves to make the weapon ready for firing and then not wear them to do the deed? No, I don’t buy it. The weapon was a plant. Tina’s right. This was no suicide, just another loose end being tied up.”
The doctor gave McCall a smile as she took off her safety glasses
“That’s not the only reason you’re all here.”
McCall could see that twinkle in Tina’s eyes, the sort of look that says, this is about to get weird. Tina walked over to a work-surface that held a stack of files in trays that were marked up DONE, PENDING, and THIS JUST IN.
“So why are we here?” Sam asked. “Have you found something that linked them all?” She was hoping for some sort of break in this case.
“They were all killed by what appears to be the same weapon.”
Everyone looked at her strangely as if she had gone mad.
“How is that possible?” Sam asked.
“Are you trying to tell me that someone killed Bill Foster and left the gun to make it look like he had shot himself?”
Tina shrugged. Her look was one of disbelief in the facts that she had discovered.
“The GSR was on his left hand so it is possible he did take his own life, but with the others I am not so sure of it, unless he stood close up. But we didn’t find stippling or powder burns so they weren’t shot at close range.” Something obviously didn’t sit right with the ME, the evidence seemed all wrong.
Sam jumped down from her perch.
“Okay, everyone go back to where these people worked and show the photograph of our mystery guy, and see if we get any hits. Tony, while you are there, speak with the secretary again. See if there was something she missed or just isn’t telling us.”
Operation:UNITY (John Steel series Book 2) Page 23
