“Well done, Darren,” Jack said. “Can you play the clip for us now?”
Blyth seemed caught out by that request. He obviously hadn’t prepared anything, which a CCTV officer on Jack’s team would have done without having to be asked, knowing that it would be expected of them.
“Er, no, not yet,” Blyth replied uneasily. “I’ve printed off some stills though,” he said, handing them over.
That was something, Jack thought, gratefully accepting them. It was impossible to make out any of the car’s occupants, but the registration number was just about readable. He passed the stills to Carol Keating, who was sitting next to him. “Pass them around when you’ve had a gander so that everyone gets to see them,” Jack told her.
“I got Dean to do a quick check on the PNC before the meeting started, and it came back as having no reports on it and no current keeper since May 1997,” Blyth informed him.
“Dean, I need you to run the car’s index through CRIMINT to see if we can work out who’s been using it since then,” Tyler instructed. “And can you also circulate it on the PNC – same conditions as the BMW.”
“Leave it to me,” Dean said, jotting down notes.
Tyler turned to Wilkins, the Office Manager. “Tom, I need a High Priority action issued for the last known keeper to be contacted urgently. It’s a long shot, I know. It’s probably passed through half-a-dozen different keepers since he got rid of it, and it was probably sold for cash with no records kept, but we have to try.”
Wilkin nodded. “I’ll get it issued as soon as the meeting’s over,” he promised.
“Anything else before we wrap up?” Tyler asked, looking around the room.
“I’ve got the results of the overnight street sweep,” Tom Wilkins said, waving several sheets of A4 paper in the air. Today, he wore a yellow and blue polka dot bow tie over a pale blue shirt. “The Duty Officer emailed them to me at the end of his shift. Unfortunately, they didn’t manage to complete the sweep because they had to rush off and deal with a fatal accident on the Barking Road, but he’s promised to send his troops back out to finish it off tonight. Basically, it’s just Star Lane and half a dozen streets branching off of it that need checking.”
“Can you have a quick look to see if the car Darren has found is on your list?” Jack asked him.
Wilkins shook his head. “I’ve already looked, boss, and it’s not.”
“When did you do that?” Jack asked, frowning suspiciously. He hadn’t seen Wilkins referring to a list during the meeting.
“Before we started,” the OM informed him. “Darren came to see me earlier.”
Jack felt a bubble of anger forming in his chest. Blyth had found time to inform the Office Manager about the red Rover’s index before the meeting, but he hadn’t thought to tell the SIO. He took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to have another dig at Blyth.
“Right,” Jack said, looking around the room and making eye contact with as many people as he could. “I know you’re all tired, and I appreciate that the last thing you want is another full-on day with me cracking the whip like a slave driver, but I’m pushing you like this for a very good reason. Claude Winston is an evil man and a danger to the public. He shot two of your colleagues last November, and he killed another one on Monday afternoon. If we don’t catch him in the next couple of days, there’s a very good chance he’ll quietly slip out of the country and evade justice. We’re making great progress, but the clock is against us, so let’s grit our teeth and keep up the pressure for just a little while longer. I’m going to hand you over to DI Keating and DI Dillon to go through operational roles and responsibilities for the day. Keep me updated on your progress. I wish you all good hunting.” With the pep talk delivered, Jack gathered up his things and rushed down to see Mr Holland in order to sort out the additional resources he was going to need.
Chapter 26
Claude Winston was feeling much better today. Now that the wound had been stitched back together, he was moving with a little more freedom. This morning, he had gone to the toilet independently for the first time since they had arrived, which had pleased him greatly. The antibiotics he’d started taking the previous evening were also having a positive effect, and his fever seemed to have more or less vanished overnight.
His mood had obviously improved too, because he hadn’t shouted at Angela or threatened her with violence once while she was changing his bandage and cleaning the wound, and to her great surprise, he’d even grunted out a sullen thank you to her as she’d left the room.
“Oi, Deontay,” Winston shouted, summoning his nephew into the bedroom.
“What is it, Claude?” Garston asked, poking his head around the door. He had been halfway through his breakfast when called.
“I’ve been thinking about that white-haired doctor you brought me yesterday.” Winston was sitting up in bed, drinking coffee, and his brows were drawn together in thoughtful consideration.
Garston stiffened. “What about him?” he asked, cautiously.
“I think he was taking the piss when he touched my nose. Do you think the cheeky cunt was implying that I’m some kind of animal?”
“No, of course not,” Garston said quickly. “He was probably just checking to see if you were dehydrated.”
Winston scowled at him suspiciously. “How the fuck can he tell that by putting his grubby hand on my nose?” he demanded.
Garston’s burner phone started to ring. Thankful for the interruption, he checked the number and saw that it was the Sussex fisherman. “I need to take this,” he said, slipping out of the room.
Alone in the hall, he pressed the green button and raised the phone to his ear. “Hello…?”
“It’s
