‘Nicked ’em.’
‘You can’t nick spirits and cartons of cigarettes off the shelf.’
‘OK, he paid for ’em . . . probably in a Paki shop. Pakis don’t care who buys the stuff as long as cash changes hands.’
‘Where would he get the money?’
‘Snaffled a rich bitch’s handbag, I expect. They’re thick as pig shit, those women.’ His tone was contemptuous now. ‘They yackety-yack with their friends outside cafes, and they don’t even know their bag’s gone till they come to pay. All you need’s a diversion – a mate pretending to beg – and the bitches all look at him while you do the business behind them.’
‘You’re a real hero, Corporal.’
Chalky shouldered the lieutenant aside. ‘It’s an ugly world, son, and stripes and pips don’t mean a fucking thing outside the army. The sooner you get wise to that the better.’ He took the carrier out of Acland’s hands, retied the handles and shoved it to the back of the boot. ‘There’s nothing in there that’ll do a sick kid any good.’
‘Did he have a duffel bag with him?’
Chalky coughed smoker’s phlegm into his throat and spat it on the ground. ‘Not that I saw.’
‘Are you sure?’
Something in the lieutenant’s tone irritated him. ‘You calling me a liar? Just take the rucksack.’ He closed the lid. ‘I’ll wait in the car till you’re done.’
Acland clicked the remote on the key fob to lock the doors. ‘You’ll wait on the wall,’ he said without hostility. ‘I’d prefer my kitbag to be here when I get back.’
*
It was twenty minutes before Jackson came to find him in the A&E waiting room. He opened the front pocket of the rucksack and showed her the electrical gadgets. ‘How’s he doing?’
‘He’ll live but he’ll have to stay in for a few days.’ She took the chair beside Acland. ‘We’ve found a phone number for the address in Wolverhampton, but no one’s answering. Did you come up with anything else?’
Acland removed the photograph. ‘I think she’s his girlfriend.’ He turned it over to show the address, explaining why he thought it was a friend’s house rather than her own. ‘If it was a commercial poste restante there’d be a PO Box number, so whoever lives there must know her, and probably Ben as well.’
‘I’ll try it. What about the mobiles? Anything on them?’
‘Dead. The BlackBerry, too.’ He paused. ‘There’s a digital camera and four iPods as well. I’d say it’s a good bet they’re all stolen.’
Jackson viewed him with amusement. ‘A dead cert more like. I hope that means you haven’t given Chalky free rein of my car. He’ll have the seats out of it before you can blink . . . not to mention the CD player and the radio.’
‘He’s sitting on a wall. Vodka and him don’t mix. He’s spoiling for a fight.’
‘That’s alcohol for you. I expect he uses it to self-medicate for depression . . . It’s what most of them do. Sometimes it’ll send them to sleep . . . other times it’ll gee them up for a confrontation. Where did he get the vodka from?’
‘Stole it, I should think . . . or got Ben to do it for him. He’s appropriated a bag of booze and fags that the lad brought in with him.’
‘Payment in kind for a secure pitch for the night,’ said Jackson matter-of-factly. ‘It’s a dog-eat-dog world on the streets. How much did he take you for?’
‘Nothing.’
Jackson looked amused. ‘Chalky’s a pro. You’d probably have woken up tomorrow morning to find most of your cash missing.’
She lifted the phones out of the rucksack pocket and selected a Nokia, removing the back and the battery to check if the SIM card was there. ‘I keep a Cellboost in my bag. How’s your conscience when it comes to the Data Protection Act? Shall we give it a whirl?’
‘Won’t it be locked?’
‘We won’t know till we try.’
*
Following in Jackson’s wake, Acland was interested in how many negative reactions she seemed to inspire. He was used to attracting suspicious looks himself, but it was a new experience to see someone else draw the flak. Even in the early hours, St Thomas’s A&E was busy, and he saw the faces people pulled as she passed and the way they turned to watch her retreating back. From behind, her bootleg trousers and black leather jacket, topped by her thick neck and short hair, made her look more masculine than ever, and he wondered how many of the reactions were caused by confusion over her gender. She spoke on her mobile as she walked along, apparently oblivious to the interest she was causing. ‘I’ve another address for you . . . 25 Melbury Gardens, WV6 0AA . . . No name, I’m afraid . . . Not sure, but I doubt it’s a relation . . . Possibly someone who knows his girlfriend . . . That’s right . . . no surname . . . just Hannah. If I leave his rucksack in the PCT office, will you make sure he gets it? Cheers.’ She redialled. ‘Anything new for Dr Jackson? Dr Patel covered it...? Thank him for me. No, I’m still at the hospital . . . almost finished . . . ten minutes max but I can be out of here in two if something comes up. Cheers.’ She stopped outside an office and punched a code into an electronic lock before ushering Acland inside. She passed him a piece of paper and a pen from the desk. ‘Print “Ben Russell” on that in block caps and leave it with the rucksack in the corner,’ she told him, taking her case from behind the door and propping it on her knee to open it. ‘OK, let’s see what we can find.’
Acland watched her unwrap the Cellboost. ‘Why don’t you put the SIM card in your own Nokia and read it that way?’
‘I’m on call.’ She connected the booster to the phone and hoisted a meaty thigh on the edge of the desk while she waited. ‘There’s usually a lull about this time. The busy periods are in the lead-up to midnight and after three o’clock in the morning.’
‘Why?’
‘Human nature and blood-sugar levels. Parents check on children before they go to bed themselves . . . Adults tend to worry in the hours before dawn when they’re at their lowest ebb. It’s a common time for people to die.’
Acland finished writing Ben’s name and moved the rucksack into the corner. ‘I wouldn’t like that.’
‘What?’
‘Finding someone dead in bed.’
‘Then don’t take a job in a hospital or a nursing home or you’ll come across them on a regular basis.’ Jackson cupped a hand round the mobile to see the battery level. ‘Hardly anyone dies at home these days, yet most of us would rather fall asleep in our own beds than attached to drips in a sterile environment full of strangers.’
‘Maybe doctors shouldn’t strive so assiduously to keep people alive.’ He spoke the words grimly.
Jackson eyed him for a moment. ‘All people? Are you saying we should have left Ben to die in an alleyway because life-long insulin is going to cost the rest of us a fortune?’
‘No.’
‘Who, then? You?’ She removed the Cellboost from the mobile and fired it up. ‘If you’re looking for someone to blame because you’re still alive, then blame your men. They could have abandoned you in the desert and saved the medics the time and trouble of putting you back together again. Not to mention the decent dinner I might have had if you and Chalky hadn’t insisted on saving the lad upstairs.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Accepted . . . and you’re right, it’s locked.’ She gave him the pen again. ‘The IMEI number should be under the SIM card.’ She prised the casing open and removed the piece of plastic, reading aloud a series of digits. ‘Got that?’
Acland nodded. ‘How do you know how to do this?’
‘A policeman taught me.’ She moved round to the chair and switched on the computer. ‘OK, what I’m about to do next is highly illegal so if you don’t want to be involved you’d better wait outside the door.’
‘Involved in what?’
‘Me asserting that I’m the owner of this phone in order to access the master code.’ She tapped in a website address, then held out her hand for the IMEI number.
‘I’l
l read it to you.’
‘Then bear in mind that everything I’m doing is being recorded on the hard drive. You’re aiding and abetting a fraudulent use of someone else’s data.’
Acland shrugged indifferently and read out the number. ‘Why would a policeman teach you to do something illegal?’
‘Daisy forgets security codes . . . including the burglar alarm.’ Jackson clicked the mouse, then leaned back while the screen worked out permutations. ‘The woman has a PhD in First World War poetry . . . can recite most of Rupert Brooke . . . but can’t hold a four-digit PIN in her head. I’ve had to learn the tricks of the trade for all the security devices in the pub. If she puts in the wrong code, nothing works.’
‘Why doesn’t she use the same code for everything?’
‘Because she’s a dipstick where mobiles are concerned. She’s had more lost or stolen than you’ve had hot dinners. If she used the same four numbers on her phone as we do on the alarm, the pub would have been stripped bare months ago. Any Tom, Dick or Harry can do this.’ She nodded at the monitor. ‘There you go. A usable master code.’ She reached for the Nokia and punched in the numbers. ‘Bingo. Let’s start with ICE.’
Acland watched over her shoulder as she went into the address book. ‘What’s ICE?’
‘In Case of Emergency. It’s the recognized site for next-of-kin details so police and paramedics don’t have to call every name in the address book.’ She read the name that appeared. ‘Belinda Atkins. That doesn’t sound very hopeful . . . it’s a London phone number.’ She put in ‘Russell’, but the only names that appeared under ‘R’ were ‘Randall’, ‘Reeve’, ‘Roddy’ and ‘Rush’.
‘Try “Atkins”?’ Acland suggested.
There were five of them: Belinda Atkins, Gerald Atkins, Kevin Atkins, Sarah Atkins, Tom Atkins. ‘So whose phone is it?’ Jackson asked. ‘It’s obviously not Belinda’s, if she’s the next of kin.’
‘Kevin’s,’ said Acland. ‘He’s the only one without a landline. All the others have two contact numbers. It’s a good way of remembering your own mobile number.’
‘Give it a go,’ she said, offering him her own phone and reading out the digits.
‘As long as you do the talking if anyone answers. I wouldn’t want to be woken at this time of night to be told about a stolen mobile.’ He pressed the ‘call’ button and the handset in Jackson’s hand started playing ‘The Ride of the Valkyries’.
Jackson killed it. ‘I know the name Kevin Atkins,’ she said slowly, ‘but I can’t think why. Where would I have heard it before?’
‘A patient?’
She shook her head. ‘Somewhere else. I’m sure I’ve seen it fairly recently, too.’ She lapsed into a brief silence. ‘Damn! It’s really bugging me.’
Acland nodded to the lit screen. ‘Try Google,’ he said.
*
Neither was prepared for the information that came up.
BBC NEWS / England / London / Third murder victim beaten to death...
The body of Kevin Atkins ...
Guardian Unlimited / Special reports / Murder of Kevin Atkins part of a series...
Detective Superintendent Jones, who is leading the murder inquiry, said...
The Sun Online – News: Male prostitute sought for gay killings...
Police warn gay community to be vigilant following the murder of Kevin Atkins ...
Jackson’s response was disbelief. ‘There’s no way that kid could beat anyone to death. He’s skin and bones. His sugar levels would have gone haywire the minute he started pumping adrenalin.’
Acland’s response was extreme agitation. ‘You shouldn’t have done this. I’m going to be crucified.’
Jackson clicked on the BBC news report and scanned down it. ‘The story’s four months old. More to the point is why hasn’t the server disconnected the phone?’
Acland turned away, pumping his fists violently. ‘Who cares?’
‘You might if the police come bursting through the door,’ she said. ‘They’re obviously still tracking it . . . and we’ve just given them its location.’
‘Shit!’
‘Calm down,’ Jackson said sharply. ‘It’s Ben who’s going to be in the firing line . . . not you and me. The first question they’ll ask him is how did a murdered man’s mobile get in his rucksack?’
‘He’ll say I put it there.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Because I’m the obvious fall guy. I was in the alleyway with him . . . and Jones already thinks I’m involved in these murders.’
Jackson eyed him thoughtfully. ‘The kid won’t know that unless you told him.’
Acland ignored her. ‘I can’t even prove the damn thing was in his rucksack. Chalky was sitting on a wall when I found it.’ He started pacing the floor. ‘Shit! Fucking shit!’
‘You were searched at the police station,’ Jackson reminded him, ‘and you didn’t have the mobile on you then.’
He swung round in fury. ‘I’ve never had it on me,’ he snapped, ‘but it won’t stop the bastards accusing me. There’s no way they’ll believe this was chance. They’ll say Ben was stashing stuff for me . . . and our meeting was prearranged.’
Jackson allowed a pulse of silence to pass. ‘Was it?’ she asked dispassionately.
Acland came close to stamping his foot. ‘I only found out what his name was when Chalky told you.’
‘Does he know yours?’
Acland shook his head angrily, as if the question was irrelevant.
‘What about Chalky? Does he know you as anything other than lootenant?’
‘No.’
‘Then Ben will have a tough time implicating you in whatever he’s been up to,’ she said calmly. ‘If he was sick enough to go into a coma, I doubt he’ll even remember you were there . . . let alone be able to describe you.’ She closed down Windows and turned off the computer. ‘However suspicious you are of the police, they don’t usually manufacture evidence out of thin air . . . and a prearranged meeting requires some foreknowledge of the other person, such as a name or a recognizable description . . . not to mention a means of communication.’
Rather than allay Acland’s anger, this reasoned approach seemed to stoke it up. ‘Don’t patronize me,’ he warned.
‘Then use your brain,’ Jackson murmured, reaching for her medical case and lifting it on to the desk. ‘No one’s going to be interested in you. It’s the wretched kid who’ll be put through the mill . . . just as soon as he’s well enough to answer questions. Me, too, if I’ve wiped anything important off Atkins’s SIM card.’
‘You shouldn’t have interfered.’
‘Maybe not, but the guy who owned that phone was murdered, so on balance I’d say I did a good thing.’
‘You might feel differently if you’d been held for six hours.’
‘I doubt it,’ she said coolly. ‘I don’t panic as easily as you seem to do.’
Acland slammed his palms on to the desk. ‘I told you ... don’t patronize me.’
Jackson shrugged. ‘You’re not giving me much choice. If you want respect, you’d better find a way of dealing with fear that doesn’t involve throwing a tantrum.’
He thrust his face into hers. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have got in your car. Every time I trust a woman, I get fucking shafted ... and I’m sick to death of it.’
She stared back at him, unmoved. ‘If you carry on like this, I’ll start to question your actions myself. Are you going to back off . . . or do we play this charade to the end? I’m not remotely interested in bolstering your self-esteem by allowing you to intimidate me.’
Reluctantly, Acland straightened and stepped away. ‘For all I know you’ve set this up. Your lady friend did a fucking neat job of getting me arrested last time.’
Jackson rose to her feet. ‘Daisy couldn’t organize a piss-up in brewery. It was me who told the police you were coming . . . and before your hackles go up again, we were only asked about the fight in the pub and whether we knew how to
contact you. I had no idea you had a connection with Walter Tutting until they took you in for questioning . . . and neither did Daisy.’
‘She made the arrest possible. She pointed me out to the police as soon as I came through the door.’
‘She had no choice. You assaulted one of her customers and she has a licence to protect.’ Jackson shook her head at Acland’s sullen expression. ‘What did you expect her to do? Jeopardize everything she’s worked for to avoid you feeling hard done by? If so, you’ve some strange ideas about other people’s priorities.’
‘I sure as hell don’t understand yours,’ he retorted angrily.
‘Why come looking for me? I’d be long gone if you’d kept your nose out of my business. The kid’s no concern of mine. Once I’d called the ambulance, I’d have left.’
‘The phone would still have existed and it would still have belonged to Kevin Atkins,’ she pointed out, ‘and you’d have looked a lot guiltier if you’d vanished at that point. Do you think Chalky wouldn’t have said that a lieutenant with an eyepatch was the third person in the alleyway?’
‘The police wouldn’t have been involved. It’s only because you’re a control freak that we’re in this mess. If you’d left well alone, the mobile would have remained untouched in the rucksack and the server wouldn’t have been able to track it.’
‘And you’d prefer it that way?’
‘Yes.’
‘All right,’ she said abruptly. ‘Then you and Chalky had better disappear. I can’t imagine he’ll be any keener than you to assist in a murder inquiry.’ She tucked her own mobile into her pocket, opened her medical case, put the stolen mobile and the spent Cellboost into an envelope, then closed the lid. ‘You’ll have the time it takes me to drive from here to Southwark East police station to put distance between yourselves and this hospital. I won’t mention either of you unless I’m asked directly if you were here.’
Acland squared up to her. ‘What good’s that if the paramedics saw us?’
Jackson shouldered past him to pick up the rucksack. ‘The police won’t bother with paramedics when they have Kevin Atkins’s phone,’ she said bitingly. ‘The only person they’ll be interested in is the sick boy upstairs. Or is that too complicated for you to understand?’
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