Iversson’s expression hardened. It wasn’t a pretty sight. ‘Why the fuck not? I haven’t done anything. If it’s about that money, I had nothing—’
I held up my hand to quieten him. ‘It’s nothing to do with the money you were carrying.’ Looking surprised, he stopped speaking. ‘Max Iversson, I’m here to inform you that you are under arrest at the request of the German federal authorities who wish to question you with regard to the murder on the twenty-sixth of February 1993 of Elsa Kirsten Danziger.’
Iversson looked at me in utter disbelief, then seemed to slump in the bed. ‘I don’t believe this. You’ll be blaming me for John F. fucking Kennedy next.’
He really looked put out, and I might even have been tempted to believe him if I hadn’t already heard that the sample of DNA taken from him in the hospital a week earlier had been confirmed as matching that of the killer. He was one of the better liars I’d come across.
I turned slowly and walked away, thinking it was ironic that we would probably never solve the Matthews case, yet its investigation had almost single-handedly provided the clues that had successfully concluded so many others. As I thought about Neil Vamen languishing in a cell of his own design, it also proved my point that crime might have been a viable short-term business opportunity, but as a long-term career it was always the wrong move. And as the technological aids open to the police become more and more advanced, so even the crimes of the short-timers will come back to haunt them. Be sure your past will always find you out, as a preacher might say.
When I got back to the station, I went straight to the Matthews incident room, now the incident room for the investigation into the attempted murder of eighteen-year-old Barry Sevringham, knifed in the neck the previous night in a pub fight in King’s Cross. The world was already moving on, as were the criminals, never ones to sit around. Berrin was in there, as was WDC Boyd. Everyone else, I assumed, was out talking to witnesses and possible suspects. They both smiled at me as I walked in, and I thought that Boyd was looking good. She had red lipstick on, and it suited her. I hadn’t seen much of her these past couple of weeks and it struck me then that I’d missed her company. Maybe I’d see a bit more of her now we were working on the same case. I hoped so.
‘The DCI’d like to see you,’ said Berrin, motioning towards the office he’d been using for the Matthews inquiry.
‘Do you know what it’s about?’
They both said they didn’t, but I thought I saw the traces of a smile on Boyd’s red lips. I knocked on the door and went in.
‘John,’ said Knox, who was sitting behind the desk, ‘come in and sit down.’
I did as I was told. ‘What can I do for you, sir?’ I asked.
‘Your work’s been excellent these past few weeks,’ he answered, and waited briefly for the obligatory thanks, which he got, before continuing. ‘Thanks in no small part to your efforts, and your persistence in the Matthews inquiry, it looks like we’ve got a number of results. The north London underworld’s in a lot of trouble as a result of the dismantling of the Holtzes, and it’s particularly good to be able to close the file on the Robert Jones case, and to give his family some sort of opportunity to move on. I’ve recommended to the superintendent that you be commended for your work on the Jones case, and I’ve also got a letter here from SO7 stating how much help your work’s been.’
‘Thank you, sir. It’s always nice to be appreciated.’
‘But that’s not what I asked you in here for.’
‘Oh?’
‘I want you to know that I’ve also recommended that you be considered for a DI post here at the station, and that the recommendation’s been accepted.’
I allowed myself a smile. ‘That’s excellent, sir. Thanks very much. I wasn’t aware there was actually a vacancy.’
‘Well, an unexpected one’s come up on this team,’ said Knox. ‘DI Capper’s asked for a transfer, and he’s moving on to another station.’
‘Really? I thought he was very happy here.’
Knox didn’t say anything for a moment, clearly debating with himself how much it was worth letting on. ‘Suffice to say some information came in from an anonymous source that didn’t cast him in a very positive light, and it seems that a number of officers in the station are aware of it. He didn’t think his position here was tenable and he’s moving to another division next week. He’s also dropping back down to DS level.’
So, there was justice in this world, and, more importantly, in the Metropolitan Police.
‘Between you and me,’ he added in a loud whisper, ‘it turns out he was something of a regular visitor to Heavenly Girls, which put him in a bit of a compromising position, and we can’t afford that. Better to get him out of the way rather than have the embarrassment of him remaining here with everyone knowing about it.’
Somehow I managed to keep the smile off my face. ‘It’s bad news losing such an experienced officer,’ I said worthily, remembering that it’s always best to play the game.
I wondered who it was who’d dobbed him in. It was either Jean Tanner or Berrin. Jean had told the two of us when the tape had been off that he’d been a long-standing and not particularly well-liked customer at Heavenly Girls (apparently he had a lot of difficulty getting it up, an unfortunate affliction for which he tended to blame the girls). I suspected that it might have been Berrin. Just a hunch, but it made sense. Jean was too much of a cold-blooded pro. Me, I would have kept the information to myself. You never know when it might have come in useful.
‘So, you’ll take
