“It’s not a mistake,” Bryant explained, “it’s a threat. Janice, get everyone together, will you? I think we should talk to them in our new briefing room.”
“And where might that be?” asked Longbright.
“The big black-painted room opposite. They can sit on the floor and take notes.”
“I’m not one to make a fuss, but there are rats.”
“Let Crippen out. He’ll take care of them. I’ll be there in a minute.” Bryant tore open a cardboard carton and dragged out a stack of books. As May watched, his partner seemed to be reversing the ageing process, becoming visibly younger and happier before his eyes.
¦
It had taken only one working day for the team to re-create a semblance of their old offices. Now they had time to reacquaint themselves with each other. “Hey, Jack.” Dan Banbury held out his hand to Renfield. “How have you been coping for the last month?”
“Just been getting on with it,” replied the taciturn sergeant.
“Raymond, I thought you were determined to stay retired,” said May.
“Yes, I thought so too,” Land admitted despondently.
“Come on, everyone, this is great, we’re all here again, feel the love, group hug,” said Bimsley. Someone threw a piece of wood at him.
Giles Kershaw had popped in from the Coroner’s Office in Camley Street to welcome his old friends back and offer them his limited facilities at the morgue. Even Meera accepted a bear hug from Colin Bimsley, telling herself that it would probably never happen again.
When Bryant entered the room he received a round of applause. “All right, you lot,” he called, “settle down, we’re losing time. John, run through the salient points, will you?”
May stepped forward. “In order to make this work we have to be very organised,” he told them. “I know the place is a dump – we won’t even have a functioning bathroom until Friday at the earliest, so you’ll have to use the one in the pub opposite – but the freedom we have does give us a few advantages.”
“The Home Office won’t be able to find us,” remarked Bimsley, causing laughter.
“That’s true, we have a few days in hand before the old restrictions kick in. They want this so-called ‘gang killing’ dealt with before word gets out, and we have to work with them. If they’ve covered up our existence, the press won’t know where to look for us, but even so I reckon we only have two or three days’ grace. You’ll have read Janice’s notes on what we have so far, which isn’t much at all – no positive ID on the body, no cause of death, no motive, no suspects.”
“Situation normal, then,” said Meera. There was more laughter.
“We have an approximate date of demise – a week ago, around last Tuesday – we think our victim was a welder, and he probably wasn’t killed on the site. Islington CID’s only suspect has been released on bail. A gentleman named Rafi Abd al-Qaadir – have I pronounced that right? – who purchased the shop’s lease. Oh, and the original owner of the property has been traced to Nigeria. We’re waiting for the Lagos police to interview him, but you won’t be surprised to hear that they’re being uncooperative and are refusing to tell us when that will be.”
“So we have no leads at all?” asked Banbury. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to work without access to police databases.”
“I found traces of mud that appear to match the construction site up the road,” said Kershaw, “where they’re building the new King’s Cross development. But it’s all over the area, trodden into the pavements and gutters. It’s probably just transferred material.”
“Unfortunately,” said May, “there are more welders and general building workers in King’s Cross than anywhere else in London right now, which is going to make your job much harder. Start with all the site foremen, see if they’re missing anyone. We need to hit all the shops on the Cally Road and find out if anyone saw the door to number seventy-three being forced. Try the tattoo parlours in Camden, see if there’s anything unusual about the ivy-wreath tattoo. And find out whether anyone noticed a van parked outside the shop at night.”
“Vans park along there all the time after six-thirty p.m.,” Banbury pointed out.
“Ask anyway. Janice has a task list, and you’ll see that everyone has been assigned a specific set of duties over the next few days. It’s by-the-book stuff, and we stick to it until we get a break. Giles, if you could spare the time I’d like you to take a look at the location with Dan. We’re treating it as a murder site. The place is full of plaster dust and timber – whoever did this must have left something behind. I’m sorry we haven’t got any safety kit or any Airwaves – you’ll have to use your mobiles to contact us, but it’s not as if you’ll be requesting S019.? Any questions?”
? armed back-up
“Good. Let’s move onto the other odd event in the neighbourhood,” said Bryant with relish. “The sighting of a man dressed as a stag near the Keys nightclub, and the possible abduction of a young female last night.”
Meera blew through her nose and looked at the ceiling. Bimsley shot her an angry look.
“Arthur has a very good reason for wanting to investigate this second matter,” said May. “The issue here is that some of the more superstitious workers on the surrounding building sites hail from remote villages in Eastern Europe. Stories about such creatures are apparently still part of their cultural heritage. Since these sightings, some of them have started refusing to operate on buildings nearest this creature’s supposed haunts. If the employers can’t keep their workers, and at the same time get wind that a gangland killing has occurred in the area, they’ll start asking questions the police can’t answer. At this point there can be no loss of confidence in the King’s Cross project. It requires a gigantic leap of faith in a neighbourhood that has always been associated with poverty and crime.”
“Wait, so which of these are we investigating?” asked Renfield, confused.
“Both,” said Bryant.
“The gang slaying,” said May, glancing over at his partner. “Arthur will have to take care of the other matter by himself.”
“But if any of you would care to give me a hand, I’d be grateful.” Bryant summoned up his pitifully helpless look, even though it had long since stopped being effective.
“I suppose we’re working round the clock until we get something,” said Meera.
“You’re not officially working at all,” May pointed out. “If you need money we may be able to give you a small cash advance, depending on how much Raymond can draw out on his ATM card.” He looked at Bryant and gave a grim smile. “Just catch us a murderer before the King’s Cross project crashes. That’s not so much to ask, is it?”
? Bryant & May on the Loose ?
17
The Horned One
“What did you mean by that?” asked Bryant angrily as soon as the meeting had dispersed. “You tricked me into coming back here by telling me about the stag-man, and now you try to prevent anyone from helping me find him.”
“I didn’t trick you,” said May. “If you remember, Meera volunteered the information quite by chance and you seized upon it. We only have a short time to solve an extremely nasty murder, and we’re not equipped to do the job. I can’t have you directing the others to go gallivanting off in search of someone who’s obsessed with stag nights.”
“A girl may have been abducted.”
“We don’t have proof of that. This witness, Izabella what’s-her-name – her boyfriend wouldn’t back her up so we only have her opinion about what she saw, and no-one has reported a missing girl. I’m not saying you can’t investigate it, just that you can’t use the others until we get a grip on the case we’ve been hired to crack. This is another chance, Arthur – no, another
“Of course, and it’s charged up, although I miss my old Storno, don’t you? Fine piece of equipment, never went wrong.”
“Well, we’re in the twenty-first century now, and stop changing the subject.”
