by Shaun Hutson
The tendrils of flesh, portions of muscles and sinews at the shoulders seemed to indicate that the arms had been torn off not cut off.
The constable blew out his cheeks, aware that he was sinking into the muddy shore not merely because it was wet with the water of the great river before him but also because blood had spread out around the corpse and was helping to make the terrain soggy. He could smell the coppery odour in the morning air. A smell he also recognised from his days in the army. He pushed his notebook back into his jacket, deciding that no amount of notes was going to help.
As he prepared to straighten up he realised that there was another dark shape lying two or three yards away, closer to the river’s edge.
Even without approaching it he knew that it was the remains of another body.
Close by was an arm, torn off at the elbow.
The third body had been eviscerated and the constable saw that thick coils of intestine were protruding through a rent in the torso that had been opened from groin to sternum. He could also see portions of shattered ribcage gleaming whitely within the gory mess.
The constable was sure of only one thing now. He needed help. He needed support.
With his teeth clamped firmly together he staggered backwards, intent only on reaching the nearest phone and calling for help.
He heard the passer-by shouting something to him but he merely blundered past and up the stairs, his head spinning and his stomach somersaulting.
As he reached the top of the stairs he saw another uniformed man approaching him and he stumbled towards the other constable, preparing to tell him too what he’d saw. As it was, he merely doubled up and retched until there was nothing left in his stomach.
FIFTY
‘If he finds out about this there will be trouble.’
The voice echoed around the inside of the hallway of the Penthouse suite of the Crystal Tower, the accent was East European, some of the words spoken falteringly but with a note of fear.
‘How could it happen?’
The other voice, also Eastern European, was deeper, befitting the size of the man who spoke the words.
‘How it happened isn’t important,’ the first voice said. ‘What matters is that no one ever finds out about it.’
The woman who spoke the words paced agitatedly back and forth, the sound of her high heels clicking on the marble floor.
‘Where the hell were you and your men?’ she snapped. ‘How did someone just walk into this place without being seen?’
‘You cannot blame us.’
‘Why not? You’re supposed to be in charge of Security here. Who else should I blame? Who do you think he would blame?’
The tall man pulled at his tie as if it were suddenly tightening around his neck. He swallowed and looked at the woman who was now standing facing him, hands planted on her hips.
‘We have a record of every person who came in and out of the building today,’ the tall man said. ‘We’ll find out who it was.’
‘For now we have to check the whole apartment,’ she said. ‘Find out if whoever got in went in any of the other rooms.’
‘And how will we know?’
‘Just check the other rooms, you fucking idiot,’ the woman snapped. ‘We’ll know.’
‘Don’t call me a fucking idiot,’ the man rasped. He took a menacing step towards her. ‘You said there was no need for him to know that anyone had ever been in here. You and I are the only ones who know. If we’re sensible it will stay like that.’
‘It had better stay like that,’ she intoned.
‘When does he arrive?’ the tall man asked.
‘Tonight at eleven, he changed his plans at the last minute.’
‘Why wasn’t I told?’
‘I’m telling you now.’
‘The car will pick him up from Heathrow and bring him straight here. It’s all been arranged.’
‘And who arranged it?’
‘I did.’
The tall man nodded slowly.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We have more than six hours before he arrives.’
‘We’d better start. We’re going to need that time.’
FIFTY-ONE
The towel was stained with blood.
Jess splashed her face with water once again and looked down at the material as she prepared to wipe more of the congealed fluid from her skin. It looked like rust on the towel, not the vivid bright red of fresh blood but an old and faded colour. Like a memory someone tries to retain but can’t. She shook her head, dismissive of her own clumsy metaphorical thinking, folded the towel and walked out of the small bathroom carrying it.
She found Hadley in the kitchen making tea.
‘I didn’t know where to put this,’ she said, holding up the towel.
‘Just chuck it on the side,’ he told her, nodding towards the nearest worktop.
‘This is a nice place, Alex,’ she said, glancing around. ‘I don’t know why you were moaning about it.’
‘It’s a fucking shoebox,’ he told her. ‘More than two people in here and it’s crowded. Not that there’s ever more than two people in here.’ He dropped a tea bag into the sink. ‘The people upstairs had a party the other week. Thirty fucking people in a place this size.’
‘That must have been fun for you.’
‘They told me they were having it. I went out that night so the noise didn’t disturb me. They were all right, a decent couple in their late thirties. Trouble is they moved out a few weeks ago and two young girls moved in. I don’t know what they do up there but the banging on the floor sometimes drives me fucking crazy. It’s the bastards downstairs who really piss me off though. Poles or something. Noisy bastards. It’s like they can’t just close doors they have to fucking slam them all the time and they’re at it all times of the day and night. Bastards. You hear everything through these walls and ceilings, they’re like cardboard.’ He took a teabag from his own mug and tossed it into the sink with the other.
‘You could ask them to watch the noise couldn’t you?’ Jess offered.
‘They just pull the “no speak English” shit when that happens,’ Hadley snapped.
‘Why don’t you move out?’ Jess asked, sipping her tea.
‘To where?’ he grunted. ‘I can hardly afford to live here.’
‘Is it as bad as that?’
‘It’s every bit as bad as that,’ he said, flatly.
Jess studied him for a moment and saw the look in his eyes. It was a mixture of sadness and anger. They were emotions Hadley knew only too well these days.
‘Anyway,’ he said wearily. ‘Talking about it isn’t going to make it better. Let’s do what we came back here to do shall we?’
She followed him into the second bedroom where he sat down at a computer. Jess perched on the corner of the small desk beside him and looked at the screen that was already flickering.
‘There isn’t going to be anything more on there about Voronov, the Crystal Tower or any other part of his life than we already know,’ Jess said, sipping her tea.
‘What about his background?’ Hadley asked.
‘What are you going to do? Look on Wikipedia?’ She chuckled.
‘What exactly do you know about him?’ Hadley wanted to know.
‘What I’ve told you before. About as much as everyone else knows about him.’
‘His family lived here in the 1930s, as you know. Here, in London.’
Jess looked at Hadley and then at the computer screen as he tapped one of the keys.
‘His grandfather moved here from Germany when the Jew baiting started,’ Jess said.
‘He lived in Prague before that,’ Hadley added. ‘His family were there for years.’
‘But I thought Voronov was Russian.’
‘Russian by Nationality. Jewish by Religion.’ He glanced at the screen that was also now displaying a couple of photos and a map. ‘His grandfather moved here in 1931 but he only stayed for two years.’
‘What happen
ed to him?’
‘He left again. No one knows where he went. If he went back to Europe chances are he ended up in a fucking concentration camp eventually.’
‘What did he do while he was here?’
‘He had his own business. He was a watchmaker. He lived over the top of the shop from what I can gather. He seemed to be doing ok.’
‘So why did he leave?’
‘His shop was burned down,’ Hadley told her flatly. ‘Someone tried to kill him.’
FIFTY-TWO
‘Why have you been keeping this information to yourself?’ Jess said. ‘You knew I was checking on Voronov. You could have told me sooner.’
‘And how would that have helped?’ Hadley challenged. ‘You’re convinced that these accidents have some kind of pattern to them, you were so caught up with that bullshit you never asked anything about Voronov’s past.’
‘Bullshit? Do you still think it’s bullshit after what we saw today?’
‘And what did we see today, Jess? Another accident, that’s it.’
‘Why are you so resistant to my ideas, Alex?’
‘Which idea would that be, Jess? That the whole fucking building is jinxed? That Voronov has somehow overseen the construction of a place that wantonly causes the deaths of people who enter it? He’s not going to target his own workforce is he? Maybe someone is trying to drive him out.’
Jess shook her head.
‘I’m not resistant to your ideas, I just want more facts,’ Hadley said.
‘So that’s why you kept this information about Voronov to yourself?’
‘I’m sharing it now aren’t I?’
She regarded him angrily for a moment then reached into her pocket and pulled out her cigarettes. She lit one and drew on it, blowing the smoke in Hadley’s direction.
‘So tell me about Voronov’s grandfather,’ she said finally. ‘How do you know someone tried to kill him?’
‘His shop was attacked,’ Hadley informed her. ‘A mob of people the police reports of the time say but they don’t say why.’
‘Anti-semitic feeling?’ Jess offered. ‘Some of the Jew baiting was worse in other countries before it got bad in Germany? I read somewhere that Austrian Jews were being persecuted long before Hitler got going and there was Oswald Moseley and his cronies here in England.’
‘That’s true, but I don’t think the attacks on Voronov’s grandfather were racially motivated. His shop was attacked four times before someone finally torched it though. Whoever was behind it really wanted him out.’
‘Where was the shop?’
Hadley hit a couple of keys on the laptop and brought up a map that bore a large red circle enveloping one small part of the diagram. Jess leaned forward and looked more closely at it, her eyes widening as she saw the address.
‘The building where Voronov’s grandfather lived was on the same site as the Crystal Tower,’ she said, quietly. ‘Do you think that’s why Voronov wanted it built there? As some kind of monument or memorial?’
Hadley merely shrugged.
‘There’s something else strange about that location,’ he said. ‘And Voronov must have known about it, the surveys and ground inspections would have revealed it.’
Again Jess looked more closely at the laptop as Hadley hit more keys.
‘The building where his grandfather lived and now the Crystal Tower itself is built over one of London’s plague pits,’ he announced.
‘I wonder how many of the residents and businesses that are moving into the Crystal Tower know that,’ Jess mused. ‘Not exactly a big selling point is it?’
Hadley smiled.
‘The pits themselves are harmless,’ he said. ‘There was talk for years that the plague that killed the people buried in them might somehow seep out but that’s bullshit. The spores that carried the plague have been dormant for centuries.’
‘Dormant or dead? Could it be reactivated under the right circumstances?’
‘No,’ Hadley said flatly. ‘I’m no expert but everything I’ve ever read on that subject confirms that the bubonic plague is not a threat to the health of those living above those pits. Christ, Jess, they’re all over London, and they found another one in Farringdon not too long ago. The city’s riddled with them, if people were that frightened and there was even half a chance of an infection starting again half of London would have to be evacuated.’
‘Do you think Voronov does know that the Crystal Tower is built over one?’
‘He must do. Like I said the surveys and inspections would have revealed that long ago. But I checked the land records, the land has stayed in his family’s name even after all these years. They owned chunks of land on both sides of the Thames including the area where Voronov wants to build that hotel complex that’s subject to planning permission now.’
Jess took another drag on her cigarette, her eyes still fixed on the computer screen.
‘Do you think Voronov deliberately had the Crystal Tower built where it was because it was on the same location as the shop his grandfather used to own?’
Hadley shrugged.
‘Maybe he wanted to get back somehow at the city that drove his grandfather away,’ Jess mused.
‘Building a luxury tower block with exclusive apartments isn’t really “getting back” at anyone is it, Jess?’ Hadley smiled.
‘But just having the building there would be like a monument to his relative, wouldn’t it?’
Again Hadley shrugged.
‘A man like Voronov never does anything without a good reason,’ he observed. ‘You could be right.’
‘You still haven’t told me why his grandfather’s shop was burned down,’ Jess reminded him. ‘Were the police at the time sure it was deliberate?’
‘All the reports said arson.’
‘I wonder why? What could Voronov’s grandfather have done to make people want to kill him?’
‘It might have been an anti-Semitic thing but I don’t think so. It’s not like he was the only Jew living in London in the thirties.’
‘People didn’t like him for some reason?’
‘It’s not that they didn’t like him, from what I can gather, reading some of the witness statements from that time, they were scared of him. Or more to the point they were scared of the other man who lived there with him.’
FIFTY-THREE
Brian Dunham scanned the letter once more and shook his head gently.
‘What should I tell them, Mr Dunham?’ his secretary asked, watching as he smiled thinly, his gaze still fixed on the paper.
‘It’s impossible,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to tell his office that there hasn’t been sufficient time or notice given. We can’t drop all our other engagements, duties and commitments just to speak to him.’
‘There were a number of e-mails too …’
‘I read them,’ Dunham interrupted. ‘Could you take care of those too and just re-iterate that our schedules are full.’
The secretary nodded and was about to leave the office when Dunham got to his feet.
‘If anyone from his office or his organisation calls tell them I’m in a meeting will you?’ he said. ‘Whenever they call I’m unavailable.’
Again the secretary turned to leave and once more Dunham stopped her, this time smiling in her direction.
‘I hope whoever replaces you can be relied upon as much as I rely on you, Theresa,’ he said.
‘You needn’t worry about that, Mr Dunham, I interviewed the candidates myself. I’m not leaving you in the hands of any old temp.’
Dunham smiled.
‘I know you wouldn’t do that,’ he smiled. ‘When is the happy event?’
Theresa Jameson touched her swollen belly gently.
‘Next month,’ she announced. ‘Unless she decides to put in an early appearance.’
‘You already know the sex then?’
‘My husband and I wanted to. So we could plan things.’
‘Like a blue or pink nursery?’
Theresa smiled and nodded.
‘Well I’m happy for you that it’s a girl,’ Dunham went on. ‘My wife and I have two daughters and they’re more precious to me than anything in the world. I never wanted a boy, I know most men do but I always wanted a girl. They’re more civilised.’ He smiled broadly.
‘Until they get to their teens,’ Theresa reminded him.
They both laughed.
‘That’s true, although my girls were never any trouble, thank goodness but I put that down to my wife’s parenting skills rather than my own. I wasn’t at home as much as I should have been when they were growing up. Work responsibilities and all that. I know it’s not much of an excuse but it’s just the way it was.’
Theresa cleared her throat.
‘If you don’t mind me asking, Mr Dunham,’ she said. ‘Did the police find out any more information about that attack on your home the other night?’
Dunham shook his head.
‘No one saw anything they told me,’ he said. ‘Nothing that was of any use in the investigation anyway.’
‘So what are they going to do?’
‘There’s nothing more they can do.’
‘Is your wife alright? It must have been terrible for both of you.’
‘I’m just relieved that our daughters weren’t there. You’ll find that once you become a mother, the only thing that matters is protecting your children and I wasn’t sure how I would have protected them the other night.’
Theresa nodded, hesitated a moment longer than turned towards the door once more.
Dunham looked down once more at the letter, signed in Voronov’s sweeping hand then he balled it up and threw it into the waste bin.
FIFTY-FOUR
‘And who was that?’
Jess took another drag on her cigarette.
‘Who was the other man?’
‘That’s the weird thing, no one knows,’ Hadley told her. ‘No one knows the other person’s name or any details about them and Voronov’s grandfather was the only person ever registered as living there at that address.’
