“Where is she now?” Jack asked.
Prudence shrugged heavily as if the simple movement had all but drained her. “Dunno. I heard her come out of her room about half-eight, so I poked my head out to be nosey. She was going downstairs with a bag over her shoulder. Lola and her friend had just arrived with four punters and she couldn’t get by them. I think she must have gone out the back because I didn’t see her anymore.”
“What about you? Did you go straight back to your room?” Susie asked.
Prudence shook her head. “No. I heard Lola offer Angela some money to join the party. She refused, but I needed the cash so I went downstairs and offered my services. Been up here with a client ever since.”
“Have you any idea where she might have gone?” Jack asked.
“Probably gone out to work,” the girl replied with a half shrug. She didn’t have the energy for anything more substantial. “She used to work in Whitechapel, but then her pimp got banged up. She’s working for his nephew now, but I don’t know where.”
Jacks exchanged a quick glance with Susie. “This new pimp,” Jack said casually. “Don’t suppose you happen to know his name, do you?”
Prudence nodded very slowly, and for a moment Jack thought that she was actually drifting off to sleep. “It’s Deontay,” she said falteringly. “Deontay Garston.”
“Thank you,” Jack said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been very helpful.”
Prudence smiled up at him, but he could tell that it was just muscle memory, and there was no happiness in the act.
Beach motioned for Tyler to follow him with his eyes. They stepped outside the room and Beach leaned in, lowering his voice. “She also told me that the skinheads they’ve been entertaining make a living by supplying illegal firearms and that the one who was with her drunkenly boasted about selling the guns that had been used to shoot the copper during the hospital breakout.”
“Fucking hell!” Jack exclaimed. “Will she make a statement to that effect?”
Beach spread his arms in exaggerated perplexity. “I haven’t got a clue,” he admitted, “but she didn’t seem opposed to the idea when I floated it by her. I think, with the right help and encouragement, young Prudence might jump at the chance to get off the game and turn her life around.”
“Okay,” Jack said, thinking aloud. “Let’s make sure the skinheads don’t get a whiff about us knowing what they do for a living. Susie, shoot back downstairs and discreetly let Dill know what we’ve got. I want all the prisoners taken back in different vehicles. I don’t give a toss if that ruffles feathers or causes delays. You’ll have to ring around to sort out suitable cell space for them all, but I want them going somewhere with different cell blocks so they can’t talk to each other while they’re banged up. I want them kept incommunicado while prem-searches are organised for their homes and any other premises we can attribute to them.”
Susie blanched. “You don’t want much then?” she said, sarcastically.
Tyler raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m asking a lot? I haven’t even started yet.”
It was Susie’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “I’d better get on with it then,” she said.
“Anything else?” Tyler asked Beach after she had gone.
The TSG skipper beckoned him with a crooked finger. “One last thing,” he said walking into the room Prudence had identified as Angela’s. He pointed to a pile of clothing on the floor in one corner. It contained the unmistakable uniform of a Royal London Hospital nurse.
“Wow!” Tyler said, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “You really are the man who never stops giving.”
Beach laughed heartily. “I aim to please,” he said.
◆◆◆
It was 7 a.m.
Jack sat at his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie off, writing up his decision log. He had been at work for twenty three hours on the trot now, and he was fit to drop. He ran a hand through his mop of unruly brown hair and then vigorously dry washed his face, enjoying the feel of a day’s stubble brushing against his palms.
Yesterday, he had been so desperate to be involved, so missing all the excitement that came with leading a fast-moving murder enquiry, that he would have given virtually anything to be the SIO. Now that he was, and he was experiencing that familiar ‘death warmed up’ feeling, he wasn’t so sure that getting his wish had been such a good thing.
Gerry Rafferty’s Baker Street was playing quietly on the radio, and he stopped writing to listen to it while he drank his latest cup of coffee.
The TSG had been absolutely brilliant. Although they were due off duty at 2 a.m., they had volunteered to make all the arrests, transport the prisoners back to the various stations CCC had allotted – two of the skinheads had gone to Forest Gate, while the other two had gone to Barking – and book them in. Lola, her brother, and Anita had been taken to Plaistow, where the local CID had kindly offered to deal with them.
By the time the prisoners had gone through the custody procedure and been placed in a cell, it had been three-thirty a.m. They were all put straight into an eight hour sleep period, meaning that they couldn’t be disturbed for an interview during that time. Solicitors were arranged by phone, with instructions to be at the relevant station, ready to begin consulting with their clients, at 11.30 a.m. that morning.
Prudence had been asked to pack up her belongings, and she had been taken to a nearby station to be key witness interviewed on tape. Jack had half expected the FME to proclaim her unfit for this, but Dr Mackintosh had declared that she was good to go, so Susie had cracked on and
