‘How you doing, Will?’ asked York.
‘Been up all night, mate, can’t be that good.’
York took a seat at the end of the table.
Jonathan Wheeler hadn’t spoken yet, but then he barely ever talked. He was the kind of guy who chose his words carefully. As far as York could tell, Wheeler worked out a lot, ate a gargantuan amount of food, and did his job to a high standard. Credentials enough not to speak if you chose.
‘Okay,’ Mason began from the head of the table, ‘here’s what we have. Desk takes an anonymous call at three-oh-seven telling us two bodies with their hearts missing are waiting to be found in a crap hole in the middle of Peckham. Not our standard run-of-the-mill crime so we’re going to need some quick results. If the press gets hold of this before we take some kind of hold we’re going to get eaten alive. Some of those vultures want their own Fred and Rose scoop, and sooner or later I’m going to have to make a statement. I’d like to have something to tell them. Liam Grayson, our charming hotel manager, has already provided us with some CCTV footage, and we’ve quickly established he’s not involved. But that does not mean he doesn’t know someone who is. So, who wants to go first? I’m sure you’re all itching.’
Mason took a seat and looked around the table. There was a brief moment of fidgeting until Will Graham stood up.
Mason raised her eyebrows. ‘Thank you, Will. What have you got?’
With a briefly inappropriate glance at Newport’s chest, the forensics man moved to the head of the table. ‘Haven’t got much yet, I’m afraid,’ he mumbled.
‘Louder please,’ said Mason.
‘From a forensics angle we haven’t got much to tell yet, ma’am,’ Graham said louder. ‘We took several semen samples from the bed sheets and several blood samples, both lots of which are being analysed as we speak.’
‘How hopeful are we of those being linked to our guy?’ Mason asked. ‘And don’t call me ma’am.’
York interjected. ‘Not hopeful at all, guv. This killer is not the sloppy type. Excuse the pun.’
Mason didn’t smile. ‘Is that your gut, or do you have something concrete?’
‘Gut,’ he admitted.
‘Okay, noted. Fingerprints?’
‘We’ve taken prints from around the room,’ Graham continued. ‘Items which are most likely to be touched: light switches, taps, et cetera.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing yet, ma…guv, but we’re working on it. The room is rife with prints so we should be able to put a list together of suitable candidates within twenty-four hours.’
York stood up and removed his trilby. He placed it gently on the table in front of him. ‘Sorry to be a pessimist, Will, but you’re not going to find any prints belonging to our killer.’ Will Graham went back to his seat, happy to pass the reigns. ‘The killer directed us to the voice recorder, he wanted us to find that. Whoever this man is he’s playing us, daring us to go after him because he knows we have to. In fact he’s banking on it.’
Mason said, ‘More hunches?’
York shrugged.
‘So the only thing we have to go on at this time is the voice recorder, which he gave us?’
The room’s lack of response was affirmation of that. ‘What about the CCTV?’ Newport asked.
‘My guys are viewing it as we speak,’ said Graham. ‘Nothing so far.’
‘Alright,’ Mason pressed, ‘that’s enough. Let’s hear the recording, Jonathan.’
Without a word, Jonathan Wheeler snapped on a pair of latex gloves and removed the small voice recorder from the plastic evidence bag. He placed it in the centre of the table and sat back down. Without asking if everyone was ready, he leant forward and hit the play button.
‘So, from this point on I would like to make my intentions very clear for the hard of understanding. This is just the beginning. The two… for the sake of argument “people”…in whom I took immense pleasure ending their miserable lives, will not be missed. They are…they were, as you will discover, at the very core of everything that is rotten. So please, I beg you all, do not shed a tear, and do not mourn Michael and Harriet Fuller. To feel any kind of pity for these people will only diminish what I have achieved tonight. And whether or not you would agree, I have achieved a great deal.
‘The time is 3am. At the conclusion of this recording there is a riddle. I would like the elite few listening to this message to solve it and return it to me within twelve hours. In precisely eleven hours a man will appear opposite your building and he will wait for one hour. He will be wearing a green hooded sweater. You will not speak to him, you will not address him in any way. You will simply hand him an envelope containing your answer and allow him to walk away.
‘Now, pay attention, this is the fun bit. If you fail to answer the riddle correctly I will kill a promising young law student. If you succeed, I will kill a convicted paedophile. Either way, somebody dies. Any deviation from the rules, they both die. However, I’m sure we’d all like the same outcome, so I urge you to think long and hard about the solution. A young girl’s life depends on it.’
Static…
‘An apple begins with me and age too. I am in the midst of a man and foremost in every apprehension. You will find me in everyday and see me in all autumns. It's a pity that you cannot see me in the night, when
