by Jack Probyn
His body turned cold. ‘Yeah, sure,’ he replied, his brow slightly creased.
The corridor was quiet, and all Jake could hear was the sound of Denise instructing Elizabeth and Alan to pose for the camera. The smell of sterile air, laced with a hint of cleaning chemicals and antibacterial spray, lingered.
Martha Clarke was a beautiful woman, even though she was more than double his age. She wore her hair short, in a bob that flicked up around her ears and underneath her jaw. Her lashes were heavy with mascara, her lips darkened with a vibrant shade of red lipstick. She wore a dark blue blazer and a pencil skirt that reached just above the knee. She was a member of the government as the Secretary of State for Housing, Communities and Local Government, but the lack of shadows beneath her eyes suggested the complete opposite – as though she had an exotic job in an even more exotic country.
‘Is everything OK?’ Jake asked.
‘I’m happy for you two. I’m just… concerned, that’s all,’ she said with a hint of discontent in her voice. He was going to hate this, he could tell. As part of her governmental responsibilities, it seemed it was necessary to come across as intimidating in every facet of her life. At least, that was the way Jake felt around her.
‘What about?’ he asked.
‘Why didn’t you tell me Elizabeth was going into labour? I thought we’d agreed that I would take her.’
‘I didn’t know she was going into labour until she was already on the way. Besides, none of us were expecting this. Ellie’s a couple of weeks early – you were probably busy at work or something,’ Jake said, his back already up. Martha knew how to get under his skin, and she always did it with success. No matter how many times he tried to defend himself against her, it was no use, and she always managed to leave him with scars.
‘And where were you?’ she asked, folding her arms.
‘At work. The same as you.’
‘And how’s that going? I hear you’re getting put under a lot of pressure.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘My daughter. She does still talk to me, you know.’
The muscles in Jake’s shoulders and arms tensed. ‘What else did she tell you?’
‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’
Jake paused.
‘Work’s been a struggle recently,’ he said slowly.
‘Why?’
He sighed before responding. There was no point keeping secrets from her – she would find out sooner or later. ‘I’m being put on this performance review,’ he said. ‘My supervisor served me with a Regulation 13 notice the other day. It means—’
‘I know what it means,’ Martha snapped. ‘What did you do? Why are you on it?’
The way she said it annoyed Jake. She made it seem like he was the one to blame, like it was all his fault. When it wasn’t. She was jumping to conclusions prematurely, just as she always did – and he didn’t appreciate it.
‘Nothing. I’m trying to do my job,’ Jake said.
‘Come on, Jake. It’s you – you must have done something for them to hand it to you. These things don’t just happen.’
‘Are we done?’ Jake asked, placing his hand on the door.
‘I want to know what you’re going to do about it. Don’t forget that I was the one who helped you get into this position at MIT after your little fiasco with Surrey Police and all the shit you decided to accuse people of afterwards. And if something happens to your career now, I might not be there to pick up the pieces – not that I should have to anyway – and I need to know how it’s going to affect my little—’
Jake puffed out a dissatisfied grunt. ‘Hey,’ he said, taking a minute step closer towards Martha. ‘I made a promise to your daughter a long time ago that I would provide for her and protect her. And I’m going to do exactly that. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about it. I love that woman more than life itself. I love my family more than life itself. I’m going to fight this, and I’m going to resolve it, OK? And I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me how to do my job – either as a father or a husband.’
CHAPTER 64
SECRETS
‘What’s going on?’ Liam shouted into the Major Incident Room where Drew and Garrison were working. It was almost 7 p.m., and Jake was nowhere to be seen. ‘Does anyone know where the fuck he’s gone?’
Both men shrugged.
‘I’ve tried calling him but he’s not picking up,’ Liam snarled.
‘I told you we should watch him, guv,’ Drew said quietly. ‘I knew the guy was a snake. He better not be getting cosy with the IPCC lot. Otherwise I’ll—’
‘What?’ Liam replied half-closing the door behind him. ‘You’ll what exactly, Drew? Beat him up? Kill him? The days of police brutality are gone, pal, so you’re going to have to be a lot smarter about it if you want a certain someone to take any notice of you.’
Liam sighed and coughed repeatedly until his chest and his lungs hurt. As he finished, he inspected his hand and wiped the small piece of blood he found on the back of his trouser legs. ‘Now shut up, and one of you call him again – I don’t care who. Just make sure he’s here within the hour.’
Drew reached for the phone on his desk and dialled Jake’s mobile. Meanwhile, Liam returned to his office and shut the door behind him. He leant against the wood and rested his head against the door. His mind began to wander into a forest of paranoia where each tree was a separate debilitating thought. What was Jake playing at? Where was he? Was he assisting with the case or was he working against them? Was he with Bridger? Was he working with the IPCC? Had he worked out what was going on?
No. Of course he hadn’t. Bridger had told him to stay away. And Jake was a good detective, but he wasn’t an idiot. Naïve, yes. A rookie, yes. Oblivious to the realities of Major Crime, yes. But Jake knew what was good for him, and he knew when to follow advice. At least, that’s what Liam tried to convince himself of, but it didn’t work – it didn’t stop the thoughts from entering his drink-addled mind and plaguing it like the cancer that was eating into his lungs.
As Liam wandered back to his desk, the phone in his left pocket rang. It was the burner phone that he kept for all of his illicit activity. His personal phone was in the right, and on this occasion he didn’t pay attention to which phone was ringing.
‘Tanner?’ he said without looking at the Caller ID.
‘No. It’s Martha.’
The name took a while to register in Liam’s mind. ‘I thought we’d agreed I wasn’t dealing with you anymore?’
‘Plans change.’ She spoke with her usual steely, stern resolve that made the hairs on the back of his neck threaten to stand and piss themselves in the form of sweat.
‘What do you need now?’
‘It’s my son-in-law,’ Martha said. ‘He—’
‘Where is he? We’ve been trying to contact him.’
‘Let me finish,’ Martha snapped. ‘He’s at the hospital. My daughter’s just given birth.’
Liam swallowed, stalling for time to try to think of what to say. ‘Oh… I see… congratulations.’
‘I won’t pass on the message, but thanks for the sentiment.’ Martha paused. Through the phone it sounded as though someone had just walked past and she had politely said hello, more out of necessity than anything else.
‘Is everything OK with the baby?’ Liam asked.
‘Yes. They’re both fine. Jake can tell you all about it when you see him. But for now I need you to explain something to me.’
Liam gurned. ‘What?’
‘How someone in his position can be served with a Regulation 13 notice, even though he’s in training?’
‘I… he…’
‘You know that’s bullshit, Liam.’
‘Your son-in-law doesn’t,’ Liam replied, feeling his voice come back to him. ‘For someone who likes to keep everything by the book, he’s surprisingly clueless about the Police Performance Regulations Act.’
‘He’s got a growing family to provide for
– he’s got a lot on his mind, and he doesn’t need you adding to his stress.’
Liam stopped talking for a moment. A knock came from the door and Drew entered, hovering in the door frame with his body weight against the door.
‘Still nothing, guv,’ Drew whispered.
‘OK,’ Liam said, conscious of the woman breathing down his ear. ‘Leave it for now. We’ll get hold of him soon. There’s still time until the meet.’
Drew nodded and closed the door.
‘Meet? What meet?’ Martha asked as Liam opened his mouth to speak.
‘The serial killer. We’ve lured him into a trap.’
‘And you need Jake there?’
‘Ideally.’
Martha sighed through the phone. It was so loud it sounded like a gust of wind had just entered his office and billowed around him.
‘Right,’ she began, ‘here’s what I want to happen. I want you to call him and ask him to come back. He’ll probably say no, but I’ll convince him to go. I’ll make sure everyone understands that it’s necessary. Then, the lot of you can go and do whatever it is you need to do. Once that’s all been put to bed, I want you to rescind the regulation notice you gave him. Tell him it was a bad joke or something, or that you made a mistake.’
‘It was,’ Liam interrupted. He enjoyed interrupting Martha and knocking her off her pedestal; it was an infrequent victory that he liked to savour.
‘It was what?’ Martha asked.
‘A joke. I gave it to him to give him a massive kick up the arse. We needed to solve this case, and I thought this was the way to do it. It was part of his initiation.’
‘Christ, Liam,’ Martha said. He could almost feel her rolling her eyes through the phone. ‘You need to get some lessons in humour. Now go. Don’t make me call you back, because next time the consequences will be worse.’
Liam’s eyebrow flickered. ‘What’s the consequence now then?’
‘There isn’t one. That’s exactly the point. This is your free pass. And who knows how much information I can spill. All it takes is one mistake and everyone’s little secrets will come tumbling out.’
CHAPTER 65
BINGO
Lester impatiently counted down the hours, minutes, seconds in the house. He’d tried to pass the time by stirring the contents of the plastic tubs he’d bought from the Dark Web that contained Carl and Jessica’s bodies, but he’d soon become bored. And then he’d had a brilliant idea. He could do a recce of Jessica Tanner’s house. Maybe even catch a glimpse of her from a distance, see what she was like in the flesh. It had been a risky endeavour – leaving the house in broad daylight – and an unsuccessful one. Not only had he not seen Jessica at all, but he was beginning to feel like something about the Communion wasn’t right. It felt staged. Too good to be true. And if there was one thing Lester had learnt in his time, it was that if it was too good to be true, then it generally was.
Yes, the address had checked out. And, yes, he’d seen a figure floating about the windows. But there was still an issue. There was still a small part of him – the rational side that hadn’t been completely devoured by the monster within him – that suspected there was foul play.
Jessica Tanner. Jessica Tanner. Jessica Tanner, he repeated.
He played his suspicions through in his head. One: Jessica had messaged him first. She’d been the one to initiate the conversation. Two: she was new – brand new, in fact – and had no points. So why was she messaging him straight away? Why had she tried to attack the biggest fish in the pond when she should have started off with the little ones?
And then there was suspicion number three: the surname. Tanner.
It rang too many bells for him to be comfortable with. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
He knew it was familiar, recent, a name he’d either read or heard in passing.
And then it came to him.
Lester opened his laptop and went onto the BBC News home page. The top news article was about him. His face had been released to the general public – a screenshot taken from a CCTV still of him outside the coffee shop where he’d bumped into Jessica Mann – and the journalist writing the article had called him the Stratford Ripper. Lester didn’t want to be in close proximation and in the same esteem as Jack the Ripper, mostly because Lester deemed himself to be better. He was smarter about everything he did. More technical. More logical in choosing his victims. More advanced in his methods. Nevertheless, Lester had resigned himself to the fact that, after all of this was done, he was going to live in infamy; that he was going to be in the history books as one of the worst serial killers London had ever seen.
It’ll look quite good on the CV, he mused.
Lester read the rest of the article, brushed over the images the journalist had lifted from the victims’ social-media profiles, and then found a video embedded at the bottom. The thumbnail displayed three men, dressed formally in suits, sitting at a table. The Metropolitan Police Service’s crest was emblazoned on the backdrop behind them. A microphone had been placed in front of each of them, and the man on the left had his own placard.
Bingo.
Lester watched the video. It was the press conference that had been televised a few days ago. He remembered it fondly; the man on the right, DC Jake Tanner, had been left to answer all the questions. And he had done so poorly. The man had highlighted the police’s ineptitude, and how they were no closer to finding him.
It was at that moment that Lester knew it was too much of a coincidence that Jessica and Jake shared the same name.
This was a set-up.
CHAPTER 66
COMING BACK
Nothing could distract Jake right now. He was in his own state of happiness, holding Ellie in his arms, his body surging with warmth and joy. She was precious. And he was so proud of her for surviving a premature birth. It was a miracle she’d even been born in the first place; according to doctors, Elizabeth wasn’t able to conceive a child, and that made Ellie’s birth all the more special. Both Ellie’s and Maisie’s.
But when Martha called from the other side of the room asking to speak with him, he knew that he needed to pay attention.
For the second time, they stepped out of the maternity room and into the hallway.
‘You need to get to work,’ Martha said, cutting straight to the chase. Jake supposed that was her only saving grace.
‘Why?’
‘Your manager called. He told me to tell you “it’s time”.’
Jake looked at his watch. It was 7 p.m. Where had the time gone?
‘Why did he call you?’ Jake asked.
‘He didn’t,’ she replied, looking sheepish. Although, when it came to Martha, it was difficult to tell what she was thinking at any given moment.
‘How did you find out then?’
‘He called the hospital, and they put it through to someone here. You were too busy so I took the call for you.’
Jake paused a second and scanned Martha’s face. He wanted to see if there was any hint that she was lying. But there was none. Her pupils didn’t dilate, and she didn’t avert her gaze. She was a master at controlling her own facial expressions.
‘Thanks for letting me know.’
‘Go. I’ll tell Elizabeth.’
‘No,’ Jake said, holding a hand out to Martha’s shoulder. ‘I can tell her myself, thank you. I’d like to say goodbye to my baby as well.’
‘You make it seem like you won’t be coming back.’
Jake opened the door. ‘Well, let’s hope I do.’
CHAPTER 67
SOON
On the way back to Stratford, Liam and Jake had agreed to meet a half mile down the road from Jessica Tanner’s fake address. It was 7:45 p.m., and the rest of the team were in position. Members of SO19 were armed and operational, patiently waiting in the back of an inconspicuous white van, while other plainclothes officers had been deployed around the area. Liam’s car was parked by the side of the road, sheltered by an ov
erhanging tree. As Jake stepped out of the car, he felt an ominous gust of wind brush past his feet and climb up his leg.
‘I suppose congratulations are in order,’ Liam said, shaking Jake’s hand as he closed the door behind him. ‘How is everyone?’
‘They’re good. Fine. Healthy. Beautiful. Incredible.’ Jake ran out of adjectives. He was truly on another level of emotion, and he just hoped it wouldn’t come crashing down in the next twenty minutes.
‘I’m pleased for you,’ Liam said.
‘Where are the others?’ Jake asked, bringing his attention to the present.
He wanted to focus. Shit, he needed to focus. He needed to push all of his thoughts and feelings about Elizabeth and Ellie away so that he could concentrate on the present. One of London’s most sadistic and vicious serial killers was on the loose, and it was his opportunity to catch him.
Jake couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by anything.
‘They’re in the property now. Drew, Garrison, a whole army of AFOs. As soon as Lester Bain rings that doorbell, they’ll be on him.’
‘What do we do now?’ Jake asked.
A smirk grew on Liam’s face. ‘Follow me.’
Liam turned on the spot and started towards the meeting point. Jake’s body was on high alert. His gaze darted left and right, constantly searching for any signs of life on the other side of the street. He was conscious of the fact that he’d been cutting it fine. It had taken him just over forty minutes to arrive, and he was all too aware of Lester’s timekeeping. In the back of his mind he hoped Lester wouldn’t be early. Jake knew it would be a part of the serial killer’s nature; that he would be impatient; that he would want to get to the kill as soon as possible. As far as they knew, it had been over thirty-six hours since his last one… and he would be hungry.
They stopped outside a house on their right. It was an old Victorian building, built high and narrow, and it reminded Jake of his own home. In fact, it was almost identical, except that Jake’s looked more modern and was built with brick that wasn’t crumbling away. They climbed a small flight of steps and passed through the door using Liam’s key. The inside was flooded with officers, many of whom Jake didn’t recognise. The majority of them were standing in the hallway, keeping themselves out of view.
