‘He say anything?’ asked Braddock who had since appeared. ‘Inspector, did he say anything?’
York glared at the MI5 man and pushed past him.
‘I’m here to help, Inspector,’ said Braddock stepping on his coattails. ‘If he said anything, I need to know.’
York stopped and turned on his heel. ‘He didn’t say a word. And neither did I. I jumped through another hoop and the one solid lead we had just walked away again. I couldn’t talk to him, I couldn’t follow him, and I sure as fuck couldn’t reason with him.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The man's a robot. It’s like he’s programmed, or something.’
Braddock blinked. ‘Maybe if I’d gone out there, things would’ve been a little different.’
York stopped suddenly. 'Come again?'
‘I’m a criminal psychologist, graduated at Cambridge. Maybe I know how to talk to these people better than…others.’
York ground his teeth. ‘Do you even know what’s happening, Braddock? Since you’re here I’m assuming you’ve heard the recordings. I wasn’t allowed to talk to him! That is unless you wanted two bodies instead of one, then you could’ve recited fucking Shakespeare. Congratulations on your qualifications and your undoubtedly framed certificates, but honestly, I could not give a shit where you attained them, and I can’t think for the life of me why you’d drop that into conversation.’
‘Well, I –’
‘I’m assuming you were trying to impress me. Well the only thing that does impress me is my ability to catch bad men, and others’ abilities to aid me in catching bad men. If you’re here to help, help. Otherwise pack up your school books and your stories about Oxford and go home.’
‘Cambridge.’
‘Jesus Christ.’
Braddock looked confused. ‘Lot’s of pent up aggression in you, isn’t there?’
York stopped and turned again. ‘Who are you, anyway?’
‘Hey!’ Mason yelled from the door of her office. ‘You two ladies, in here, now!’
Trailing Braddock into Mason’s office, York closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
‘Nick, what just happened?’
‘I was frustrated,’ he explained. He removed his hat, the band inside slightly damp.
‘Screaming and shouting at passers-by? Like we need the complaints. Tony?’
‘I ran checks on garage workers recently killed. Came up with only two names. One in Peckham, one in Brixton. Both times the assailants scrubbed up well, had alibis. John Harker-Williams had been with his girlfriend, she testified to it, and Winston Jackson was apparently in Glasgow the night of the attack. Their fingerprints were all over the crime scenes, but neither was convicted. They both admitted to using the respective garages all the time. Anyway, I think we have a couple of winners for the next target.’
‘Which one?’ she urged.
‘It’s a photo-finish.’
‘Send a couple of cars out to both addresses, see that these guys are okay. We’re assuming we got the riddle correct so we’ve got to assume he’ll go after the offenders.’
‘I don’t think so,’ York interrupted.
‘Excuse me,’ said Braddock.
York didn’t move, didn’t reply.
‘Explain, Nick? You’ve been wrong once in the last twenty-four hours.’
‘I’ve been wrong a lot more than that. Why would he go after someone he knows it’d be easy for us to check. We have profiles on every loser in the city. Of course we can check acquitted individuals.’
‘So?’
‘This guy, whoever he is, he's way too smart for this. He’s throwing us a bone, and like every time before, we’re going to chase it, just like we’re supposed to.’
Braddock smiled pleasantly. ‘So what’re you saying? He’s going to go after a copper just to sucker-punch us? That’s outrageous. Ma’am, you’re not buying into this crap are you? Our guy has never broken his pattern, not from the get-go. Why would he change now?’
‘Don’t call me ma’am,’ warned Mason. ‘Nick?’
‘Man makes a good case, Judy, I just think it’s a bit too convenient. We continue to not give this guy the respect he deserves, and he continues to make us look stupid. I’m not saying you shouldn’t send those cars, I’m just trying to get one step…’
He paused abruptly.
‘Nick, what is it?’
He closed his eyes slowly. As his eyelids peeled back up, he glanced from Mason to Braddock.
Back to Mason.
Oh shit...
Holly.
30
Queuing up behind a silver sports car, Newport switched her driving glasses for shades, the dying sun blinding. She fiddled with controls, couldn’t concentrate. Kellie had left her stunned. She had shown her a side Holly never knew existed, dangerous and idiotic.
Exciting.
As the thoughts coursed through her head, a pleasant shiver passed between her thighs. She visibly quivered.
At first, as Kellie’s words passed through her, she felt that familiar pulsation of jealousy; Kellie out with another man, burning the midnight oil. She’d almost asked her to stop, cease talking. She didn’t want to know, even if she was talking about some Neanderthal halfwit. But as the story sped along unwaveringly, and she began to push aside the envy and incredulity, it felt good to just roll with it. After Kellie had left the café and the dust had settled, she realised she was mildly turned on.
Amidst the jarring blare of car horns and curses, she began to wonder if there really had been another woman or if Kellie had fabricated the entire thing. Judging by this unexpected new side, anything was possible. In the heat of the moment she’d made no effort to read her. From countless interrogations, she’d grown good at spotting character traits and imperfections. She could tell when someone was telling the truth. And she could tell when somebody was concealing it. She just had no idea which category Kellie fell in to.
Finally, the car in front began to move. First gear. Second.
The buzz from the espressos began to
