as you can from them into a new account in my name. That should get her attention pretty quickly.' 'Way to go, Matt!' Andy said. 'Yeah,' said Pete. 'Make her squirm!' I suddenly felt a wave of emotion. Up till now we had basically been chasing the game, but now we were going on the attack. The question was, how many people were going to end up dead before we flushed Sara out?
Karen Oaten was sitting in front of the assistant commissioner's desk, in a low chair that she was sure he had carefully chosen to emphasize his superior position.
'Tell me, Karen,' he said, flicking a speck of dirt from his uniform tunic. 'What are you doing to find Matt Wells?'
She tried not to sigh too obviously. It was clear that her boss had paid more attention to the Daily Independent than the other papers. Then again, the Matt Wells angle was sure to be copied across the media as the day progressed.
'I've applied to have his phones tapped and his Internet service provider monitored.' She rubbed her forehead. 'But it's likely that he's using other numbers and sites. He's been preparing for Sara Robbins's return for some time.'
'Is that who you think murdered the two crime writers?'
'There's no evidence of it, though the note mentioning Matt suggests someone with an agenda. Sara Robbins did threaten him in an e-mail after the White Devil's death.'
The AC picked up an expensive-looking pen and held it like a surveyor judging an angle. 'I have to tell you, Karen, that questions are being asked about your team. The outbreak of killings in East London is unlikely to have come to an end. The shooting of the Shadow hard man by someone wearing Muslim women's clothes is going to make things worse. I understand you've kept Ron Paskin in charge.'
'Yes, sir. He has the experience and the manpower to handle it.'
The AC raised an eyebrow. 'Is that a hint that you need more bodies, Chief Inspector?'
'I always need more bodies,' Oaten replied. 'At least, living ones. My monthly report has stressed the need for more detectives and support staff in the VCCT ever since I arrived.'
'Just be thankful you have a team to command at all,' the AC said firmly. 'There are plenty of senior personnel in the divisional homicide units who would be delighted to see the disbandment of what they feel is the interfering VCCT.'
'Yes, sir. I am aware of that.'
The man behind the desk opened a file. 'No fresh leads in the Mary Malone case?'
'No, sir.'
He opened another file. 'The Dave Cummings shooting?'
'No, sir.'
The AC looked down at her. 'And the Eastern Division murders? Are they just tit-for-tat gang idiocy?'
Karen Oaten held his gaze. 'I'm keeping an open mind, sir. Do you know something I don't?'
'I have spoken to Detective Superintendent Paskin, but he assures me he's copied you on all the case notes.' The AC pushed his chair back and stood up. 'Come on, Karen,' he said. 'Don't you think it's a bit of a coincidence? A series of murders starts that we can link, at least in principle, to Sara Robbins, and at the same time someone starts taking out gang members in East London?'
Karen chewed her lip. The thought had occurred to her. She didn't like the feeling, not least because the idea was interesting. She decided to play devil's advocate.
'There's no evidence whatsoever tying the crime- writer murders even to that of Dave Cummings, let alone to the East End killings, sir.'
'Indeed there isn't,' the AC said, looking at the photograph of the Metropolitan Police rugby union team that he had captained. 'But that doesn't mean there isn't some connection.'
If Amelia Browning had come up with an evidence- free idea like that, Karen would have sent her off with a verbal slap. But the AC wasn't prone to flights of fancy and he did have an outstanding record as a detective. She knew that she'd be a fool to ignore his input, even if it was nothing more than a hunch.
'So you want me to take over the cases from Ron Paskin, do you, sir?'
'Not necessarily,' her boss replied. 'Just consider the possibility that there's more to the gangland murders than meets the eye.'
'Right, sir,' Oaten said, standing up.
'By the way, how's that young sergeant coming along?'
'Amelia Browning? She's keen and I think she'll make the grade.'
The AC opened the door of his office. 'Good. I had a feeling she would when we interviewed her.'
As she left, Karen twitched her head. The AC might have given the impression of being the most straitlaced of commanders, but he had the ability to put his finger on things with unerring accuracy. It was about time she did the same, if she wanted to remain in charge of her team.
I watched as Rog's fingers flew over the keyboard like a concert pianist's. He had already managed to transfer a million dollars from an account in Venezuela to the one he'd set up in my name in London. Now he was working on the sum of two million in an Indian bank. I'd asked him before he started if he was happy about breaking the laws of numerous countries.
He just shrugged and said, 'Whatever it takes to get Sara off your back.'
Sometimes my friends made me feel very humble.
Andy and Pete had left, armed and wearing baseball caps with large peaks. I didn't think anyone would be looking for them on the CCTV cameras that were everywhere in the city these days, but there was no point in risking it. I had the feeling we were going to have to resort to disguises before the chase was over and I didn't want to use them up prematurely.
After I'd checked our weapons and ammunition clips, I sat in front of my laptop, trying to resist the temptation to check my e-mails obsessively. It wasn't long before I succumbed. There was nothing of importance. While I was on the Internet, I decided to have a look at the Crime Writers' Society Web site. I got an unpleasant surprise.
Josh Hinkley had posted a call for my immediate expulsion, on the grounds that I had brought the Society into disrepute because of my 'cowardly refusal to help the police.' Fortunately, there were several other members who wrote in to say that Josh was, in varying degrees of politeness, full of shit. What the hell was wrong with him? Obviously he was in bed with Jeremy Andrewes, but that was just a publicity gimmick. I knew Josh was jealous of the fact that The Death List had sat at the top of the bestseller list for months. But laying into me on a private site was another story. Then I remembered something Andy had said. What if Sara had got to Josh? He was sufficiently lacking in morals to work for her, especially if there was money involved. Then I had another, even worse thought. What if Josh had murdered Mary Malone and Sandra Devonish?
I got up and walked over to the window. The street below was full of slow-moving cars and the pavements were busy. Somewhere out there, I was sure, Sara was plotting her next move. Could it really be that Josh Hinkley was doing the same thing? Maybe Sara had killed Dave, but it was Josh who had killed the crime writers, entirely on his own. Jesus, the nightmare was getting even worse. How many vicious bastards were out there? I thought of the gangland killings in the east of the city. The answer to that question was, plenty. But Josh Hinkley a serial killer? He had a nasty side, and he certainly loathed crime writers who sold better than he did-Mary Malone and Sandra Devonish both came into that category, as had I with my book. Plus, he was doing his best to put me in the frame for the American's murder. Was that to keep the spotlight off him?
I went back to my laptop.
'That's it,' Rog said, turning to me. 'You're now three million dollars better off.'
'What's next?'
'A juicy little bank in Costa Rica, with a security system that a child could break. She's got two million in there.' He grinned. 'But not for long.'
'Shouldn't you take a break?' I said. 'I mean, log off so that there's no chance of you being traced.'
'Trust me, Matt, there's never been any chance of me being traced.'
I let him get on with it, wishing I had a skill that would help find Sara. But I didn't, so I checked my e-mails
