front wall of the warehouse, and displayed beside this, in artful chrome, was the number of the building. Inside, the large open space was lit by bright fluorescent strips hanging from a high ceiling. It took the DCI a second for his eyes to adjust, and then he saw Turner pacing towards him.
‘That was quick, guv.’
‘What’s the situation? I just saw an ambulance.’
‘Yeah, I think we might have saved this one.’
‘What?’ Pendragon stared past his sergeant at the scene in the warehouse. The front half was empty, nothing more visible than a painted concrete floor with a few pieces of newspaper blowing around it. Filling the back half were dozens of columns of wooden crates. They were stacked five high and in two groups, to right and left of the warehouse. A passage about three metres wide ran between them. Pendragon could hear voices coming from behind the crates and someone had set up a powerful floodlight creating shadows that played across the ceiling.
Turner led the way. ‘We got a call about one-forty. A woman on her mobile. She’s over there. Name’s Vanessa French. She was hysterical, saying that her boyfriend, Gary Townsend, was being tortured. I got here first with Thatcher and Mackleby and saw Ms French outside the building. She was a complete mess … trying to keep quiet, but falling apart. Mackleby stayed with her and Jim and I went in. We could hear this horrible whimpering. We got to about here,’ … and Turner pointed to the floor. ‘… I heard this scrambling sound.’ We rushed forward. I caught a glimpse of someone in a protective plastic suit. You know, like the ones they use in bio-labs. We saw the vic on the floor. He was spread-eagled, tied down with ropes. I ran after the geezer in the suit.’
‘I assume you didn’t get a better look at him?’
‘No, guv. They obviously knew their way around the place, had an escape route planned. A door at the back was open when I reached it, but no sign of anyone.’
They had reached the other side of the crates. It was a space about three metres square. In the middle of the floor there were four metal rings in the concrete. Lengths of cut rope were tied around these. There was a puddle of liquid at one end of the arrangement. Around the edge of the liquid, the concrete had started to dissolve. The puddle had been cordoned off with police tape. To one side stood two plastic barrels. Pendragon noted the stickers reading ‘Corrosive’ on one of them. Two uniforms stood to the right of the scene with Jimmy Thatcher and Inspector Rob Grant. To the left stood two spindly wooden chairs. Sergeant Roz Mackleby was in one, a young woman wrapped in an ambulance blanket was seated in the other.
Pendragon’s mind automatically flashed back to the scene on Stepney Green six days earlier: Sergeant Mackleby comforting another woman in the back of an ambulance while close by a hideously mutilated body hung in a tree.
Jack walked over to the two women. ‘Ms French, I’m DCI Pendragon.’
Vanessa French looked up, meeting his gaze. She was in her mid-twenties. Clearly undernourished, but pretty. Her shoulder-length hair hung loose. Her make-up was smudged and tear-streaked. She had a strong, intelligent face.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘DCI Pendragon, I really want to be with Gary right now.’
‘I understand. But the medics will do everything they can for him and we can take you straight to the hospital from here.’
She looked at the concrete and then back at Pendragon. ‘Okay. I’ve tried to describe what happened already. I imagine you would like to ask me to again.’
Pendragon found a faint comforting smile from somewhere. ‘If you’ll indulge me.’
‘Where do I start? At the point where I crumpled into hysterical tears or before that?’
Pendragon said nothing, just waved a hand in front of her as if to say, You decide.
‘God! I feel so utterly bloody useless … I should have stopped them.’
‘No. You did the right thing.’
She took a deep breath. ‘I thought Gary — that’s my boyfriend, Gary Townsend — was having an affair. He’s been going out late at night recently. He’s Arts Editor for the
‘I made my way between the boxes and hid just over there.’ She pointed to the spot. ‘And then I saw it.’ She gasped suddenly and put a hand to her mouth. Mackleby leaned forward, but Vanessa French pushed her hand away gently.
‘I’m okay,’ she said and took a deep breath. ‘Gary was bound, tied down. It was shadowy. I couldn’t see properly. There was a figure in some sort of plastic suit and visor. He leaned forward with a plastic container, opened the top and peered down at Gary. Gary started to struggle. He was gagged, but I could hear him trying to shout, trying to scream. It was horrible.’ She paused again then shook herself, trying physically to dispel the terror. ‘The figure in the suit started talking, but his voice was distorted — like those voices you get on songs sometimes — do you know what I mean?’
Pendragon glanced at Mackleby, but she was concentrating her gaze on Vanessa French and did not see him.
‘He said something like, “Now, my Edvard Munch …”’ Then he just poured the contents of the plastic container all over Gary’s face.’
Vanessa stopped and looked appealingly at Pendragon, then she pressed her hands to her face and dragged them slowly down her cheeks. Pendragon felt a cold chill run along his spine.
‘Gary … Gary screamed. He screamed and he screamed.’ Vanessa took a couple of very deep breaths. ‘I was frozen to the spot … literally. I know it sounds like something out of a bad detective novel, but I did. I felt the world fall apart around me. I felt sick. Then … I ran.’
She stopped again and Pendragon searched her face. She was trying valiantly to keep control of her emotions.
‘I got outside. I threw up. I was crying. My eyes were streaming — it must have been the fumes … Oh God!’ She gasped and brought both hands to her mouth. ‘Imagine … just imagine what Gary must have ….’
There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of a camera shutter. Pendragon glanced round and saw that the police photographer had arrived.
‘That’s when I called you …’
‘Thank you, Vanessa,’ Pendragon said, and leaned forward to take her hand. She jerked a little as he touched her, then looked up from the concrete to stare into his eyes again.
‘Please get the fucking bastard, Inspector,’ she hissed, and withdrew her hand.
‘So you saw nothing on your shift outside Hickle’s flat?’ Pendragon said as he and Turner jumped into the car.
‘No, nothing. Vickers rocked up about midnight. About an hour later we got the call to come here. I phoned Vickers on my way to the warehouse. He reckoned no one had left Hickle’s building.’
Pendragon negotiated the narrow road past the industrial units and out onto the main street. ‘Hickle could have slipped out,’ he said.
‘It’s possible I suppose, but not likely.’
‘Well, then, if Hickle is involved he must have an accomplice.’
‘Unless the guy is completely innocent, guv,’ Turner said.
Chapter 45
To Mrs Sonia Thomson
17 October 1888
‘So it was you!’ Archibald exclaimed, his face pale as winter snow.
‘It very much looks like it, old fellow,’ I replied, throwing the bag containing my materials on to the bed.
