nothing in the records to suggest he speaks another language. He needs to be able to communicate in order to control, so he’ll go some place where English is the primary language. The USA is hard to get into, but once you’re there it’s easy to lose yourself, particularly if, like Vance, you’ve got plenty of money and therefore no need to trouble the social security system. He’ll also want to be somewhere he can have access to the best in prosthetics with no questions asked, so again that points to the USA. And, unlike Australia or New Zealand, they tend not to show UK TV programmes, so there’s little chance of anyone spotting him from reruns of Vance’s Visits. There are also possibilities offered by some of the Gulf states, where privacy is highly prized and where English is widely spoken. Normally I’d say follow the money, except that guys like Vance know people who know how to make the money disappear without a trail.
So the big question is what he has planned before he leaves for his ultimate destination. Based on how he behaved towards Shaz Bowman when he thought there was a possibility of her thwarting him, I believe Vance intends to avenge himself on the people he holds responsible for his incarceration.
His prime target will be the police officer who was responsible for tracking him down and arresting him: Carol Jordan, currently a DCI with Bradfield Metropolitan Police. There were other officers involved in the unofficial investigation: Chris Devine, currently a DS in the same force; Leon Jackson, who was a DC with the Metropolitan Police; Kay Hallam, who was a DC with Hampshire; and Simon McNeill, who was a DC with Strathclyde. Given the relatively high profile of my own involvement in the process, I would expect also to be on his list of targets.
Seeing it on the screen in black and white made it seem less real somehow. Just words on a page, nothing to lie awake worrying and wondering about. Really, what were the chances of Vance coming after him like an avenging angel? ‘Whistling in the dark,’ he muttered. ‘And out of tune, at that.’
He carried on typing.
The other main targets will be his ex-wife, Micky Morgan, and her partner Betsy Thorne. In Vance’s world view, they failed to keep their end of the bargain. Micky betrayed him by revealing that their marriage was a sham. She refused to support him in court and never came near him in prison. When she had the marriage annulled because it had never been consummated, she made him a figure of derision and contempt. She became the enemy. Wherever she is, Vance will show up sooner rather than later. Staking out these potential targets may well be the most effective way of snaring Vance.
All of which was very bloodless, very academic. Nothing to do with the screaming in the back of Tony’s brain when the image of Shaz Bowman’s destruction flashed unbidden before his eyes. He didn’t want Piers Lambert to think he was hysterical, but he wanted to make damn sure he paid attention.
Jacko Vance is probably the most efficient and focused killer I have ever encountered. He is vicious and without remorse or compassion. I suspect he has no limits. He does not kill for pleasure. He kills because that’s what his victims deserve, according to his self-righteous view of the world. He has committed a highly organised escape from jail. I don’t think there’s anything significant in the timing. I think it’s simply taken him this long to get everything perfectly in place. And now, unless we take decisive action, the killing will start.
20
Stacey wasn’t the only one who knew how to get information out of a computer, Kevin told himself. He had a twelve-year-old son who used his home computer like an extension of himself. It had been a steep learning curve, but Kevin was determined to keep abreast of his son. Back when he was a boy, his dad had shared his knowledge of what went on under a car’s bonnet and that had been the single thing that had kept them on speaking terms during Kevin’s own adolescence. It seemed to Kevin that the twenty-first-century equivalent of messing about in lock-ups with motors was being able to play World of Warcraft online with your kid. Beyond that, he’d learned how to do slide presentations, how to typeset a poster and how to refine his Google searches. He kept quiet about it in the office, though. He had no desire to tread on Stacey’s toes or to have the limits of his capabilities cruelly exposed.
Ten minutes with Google and another metasearch engine revealed that there was no shortage of businesses that could supply a tattooing machine. Even given the current obsession with body art, Kevin found it hard to believe they could all make a living. He had no tattoos himself; he reckoned they’d look weird on his freckled skin. His wife had a scarlet lily on her shoulder and he’d always admired it, but she’d never fancied another and he hadn’t loved it enough to try to persuade her otherwise.
His searches had thrown up too many listings for there to be any point in trying to track down a recent purchase in the Bradfield area, even supposing the vendors were cooperative. Since many of those who practised body art liked to think of themselves as being mavericks and enemies of the system, he suspected most of them would be reluctant to help.
After scrolling through a dozen screens, Kevin came up with three suppliers with local addresses. Two were tattoo parlours, the third a business that seemed to cover everything from hair-dressing sundries to jewellery for piercings. He copied their details and made an action file, suggesting officers should visit all three businesses and ask about recent sales, both online and in person. It was the sort of tedious inquiry that Northern Division could handle. And if it produced something worth chasing, then office politics would be satisfied as well as the inquiry.
He smiled as he hit the ‘send’ button. It felt good to delegate the drudgery. Too often, Kevin was convinced he got the boring routine work in MIT. It was the chip on his shoulder. Maybe that would change when they were scattered throughout the force. He wouldn’t mind a bit. It was about time he got to show the flair that might earn him promotion.
It never occurred to him that Carol Jordan passed routine inquiries his way because his thoroughness was exemplary. In a world where most officers did as little as they could get away with, Kevin was notable for his attention to detail, his finicky insistence on having everything nailed down. He didn’t realise it, but he was the reason Carol Jordan’s blood pressure was as low as it was. And she knew it.
Vance dressed in the clothes Terry had left neatly folded on the toilet cistern. New underwear and socks, chinos and a long-sleeved blue twill shirt with a neat button-down collar. At the bottom of the pile was a wig – a thick mop of mid-brown threaded with silver. Vance put it on. The hair fell naturally into a parting on the opposite side to his own hair. Although the style was similar to the old Jacko Vance from the days of TV glory, he somehow looked distinctively different. The final touch was a pair of clear glasses with stylish black oblong frames. The man in the mirror looked nothing like Jason Collins. Not much like the old Jacko Vance either, he thought with a trace of regret. There were lines where none had been before, a little sagging along the jaw, a few broken veins in the cheeks. Prison had aged him faster than life on the outside would have. He’d lay money that his ex-wife was wearing better. Still, he’d put a few more lines on her face before he was done with her.
When he emerged, Vance was gratified by the look of delighted surprise on Terry’s face. ‘You look great,’ he said.
‘You did a good job,’ Vance said, patting Terry’s shoulder. ‘Everything’s perfect. Now, I’m starving. What have you got for me?’
While he ate, Vance checked the contents of the briefcase Terry had brought with him. It contained two counterfeit passports with matching driving licences – one set British, the other Irish; a thick wad of twenty-pound
