He suddenly felt inexplicably tired, as though he had hit a wall of fatigue. For a moment he wondered if he would have the energy to make the journey back, so urgent was the need to rest. Despite the exhaustion, The Disciple was feeling pretty good. He grinned contentedly as he patted the dead girl’s panties, which were still safe in his jacket pocket. It would have been unthinkable to leave these behind.
Now that the first killing had occurred the authorities would be looking for him, and he would have to hide under the mask of his other, weaker, persona for a little while. It wouldn’t be easy after the freedom he’d enjoyed these last few hours, but he’d just have to grit his teeth and get on with it. He understood that the disguise was a necessary inconvenience. Anyway, his return to anonymity wouldn’t last very long, he promised himself. The reign of Jack, the new improved ‘Ripper’, had finally begun.
Long live the Ripper!
◆◆◆
The two officers dispatched to check the top floor and roof area of the tower block reported back with a negative result. There was no sign of activity on the top floor stairwell and the entrance to the roof area was safely padlocked. There was no other way up onto it.
Tyler thanked Ray Speed for his assistance and allowed the forensic technicians to get on with the scene examination. The victim’s head and hands were forensically wrapped by Sam Calvin, then she was placed in the black body bag and the zip was done up and security tagged.
“I think I’ve seen enough for now,” Tyler said, nodding for the others to follow him. “Have we managed to identify her yet?” he asked as they walked back towards the site gate, Speed at his side, Dillon and Holland following behind.
“She had a small bag, a purse with thirty pounds in it, plenty of condoms and a Social Security book. The name on the book is Tracey Phillips,” Speed informed him. “She’s a South London girl, from the look of it. We’ve arranged for someone from the local nick to call on the home address. We should have a result on that fairly soon.”
“Let me know as soon as you hear anything, Ray. And as soon as you can, get your troops relieved and bring them back to Whitechapel for the hot debrief.”
“I’ll get it organised right away,” Speed said, and promptly peeled off to make the arrangements.
When they reached the gate the three detectives removed their paper suits and overshoes.
Jack noticed a look of misery darken Holland’s craggy face. “Alright Jack, let’s get down to business,” he said. “I’ve got a nasty feeling about this one. If the media gets hold of this, which it will, you’ll be under a lot of pressure to get a quick result, so you’ll need to move fast. I know you’ve only had the rank for a few months but I’ve every confidence in you.”
”So I’ll definitely keep it, even if it becomes a Cat. A?” Tyler asked, excited and scared at the same time. The Macpherson report, published back in February, had focused on the Met’s handling of the 1993 murder of South London teenager, Stephen Lawrence. The report didn’t make for fun reading, and the organisation had been heavily criticised for, amongst other things, failing to recognise that this was a racially motivated crime and failing to react accordingly.
Apart from being branded insensitive and institutionally racist, the organisation’s ability to investigate murder and other serious crime had come under close scrutiny, and a number of serious failings had been highlighted. The report concluded that a lack of proper training was being provided to senior investigating officers to enable them to make informed investigative decisions, and a lack of training was given to officers carrying out specialised roles. It also bemoaned the lack of resources provided to effectively conduct murder investigations and talked about failures to document decision making and conduct evidential procedures in a manner that would stand up to close inspection.
The Commissioner had been hauled over the coals, and the backlash from his political masters and the media had prompted an urgent review of the Murder Manual, resulting in the new Gold Standard for murder investigation being promptly published in Police Order 6/99, which had come out in March.
The rumour coming out of the corridors of power at The Yard was that the days of the Area Major Investigation Pools were over and that a new centralised command would be formed within the Serious Crime Group to replace them. Jack wanted to be a part of that, and while he recognised that leading this case to a successful conclusion would pretty much guarantee him a spot in the new Homicide Command, anything less could pretty much ruin his future career prospects.
“Unless you fuck up, which you won’t,” Holland said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be watching over you. Pull out all the stops and keep me updated as it develops.” Holland shook Tyler’s hand again and gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. With a final nod to Dillon, he left them.
As they crossed the road towards Steve and the car, Tyler turned to Tony Dillon.
“I think this killer is in a different class to anyone we’ve ever come up against before, Tony,” he said.
Dillon stopped in mid-stride and turned to face his friend. Jack hardly ever called him by his first name, never had in all of the years that they had worked together. It was a sign that he was worried. “Why do you say that?”
“It’s the message,” Jack explained as they resumed walking. “He’s proud of what he did and he wants us to
