The Slot phone rang. Famie hooked the headset around her head.
‘It’s Famie Madden.’
‘Famie, it’s Serena, there’s been a stabbing—’
Famie cut across her. ‘We have it, thanks, Serena. Getting someone to Euston now.’
She was about to hang up when she caught her friend’s tone: ‘Didn’t say Euston. This is Kentish Town. There’s a body on the Underground steps.’
Famie’s heart kicked up a notch. She raised her head, pulled the headset away from her mouth. ‘Serena has another stabbing. Kentish Town.’ Back to the headset. ‘OK, talk to me, Serena.’ She heard disembodied shouting and sirens from the phone, then Serena’s voice. Measured but taut. Famie typed fast.
‘There’s a man, a white man, mid-thirties maybe, with his throat cut, lying at the bottom of the steps. The entrance to the tube is closed now but there’s blood everywhere. I arrived shortly after it had happened, I think. A really nasty one, Fames – chest and neck injuries. Paramedics and police here now. One of the staff told me he’d seen a man running away, heading into town.’
‘Stay there, Serena. Thanks.’
TWO PEOPLE STABBED TO DEATH IN SEPARATE ATTACKS IN LONDON, WITNESSES SAY
Two stabbings, separated by two miles. A coincidence probably, a busy morning certainly.
‘More film from Euston!’ It was Tommi again. ‘Famie? You should see this.’
His voice sounded strangled and she looked up. He beckoned her over, pointing at the screen as she approached. This image of the dead woman was of better quality and taken from a different angle. Famie studied the bloodied clothing, the tangle of limbs and the slack-jawed face and, suddenly faint, realized she knew who it was.
3
‘SWEET CHRIST, THAT’S Mary Lawson.’ Famie held on to the desk. The woman in the Euston gutter was Mary Lawson, veteran IPS journalist and head of their Investigations Bureau. She wondered why she hadn’t recognized her sooner – the blue cardigan and red silk scarf should have been all that was needed.
When Famie eventually tore herself away she found a small crowd behind her. The image had flashed across the floor, its progress flagged by the cries and gasps it triggered; many had instinctively graduated to the UK desk in sympathy and solidarity. Famie looked through a glass wall to Mary’s desk barely ten metres away, a photo of two small children alongside her computer. Famie felt her sleeve being tugged.
‘Slot? There’s more.’ Sam nodded to the double screens.
Famie didn’t move, her head spinning. When her divorce was finalized it was Mary who had bought her a pizza. When her daughter passed her A-levels it was Mary who had high-fived her first. She was one of their finest, a tough, resourceful reporter who led her investigative team with élan.
‘Famie. You’re Slot.’ Sam’s words were kindly but firm.
‘Her kids are eleven and thirteen, Sam.’
‘I know. And it’s awful. And we’ll deal with it. But you’re Slot, unless you want someone else to …’
Famie shook her head. ‘No, no, I got it.’
She slumped back into her seat, wiped her eyes with her sleeve and scrolled back over the last two minutes of news copy. Famie felt her stomach lurch. The police were reporting three more stabbings, this time in Croydon, Hackney and Pimlico. Now the adrenalin kicked in. This was not a coincidence. On the wall, the TVs’ ‘Breaking News’ scrolls were recording ‘multiple attacks’.
Slot phone, Serena again, a scared voice. ‘Jesus, Famie! I saw the man here. When they took him away. It’s Harry. Harry Thomas from Investigations. Christ, I never saw such a mess.’
From somewhere Famie heard herself say, ‘Was he dead, Serena, did they confirm that?’
‘Yes. God. Dead. Very dead. Fuck.’
LONDON POLICE SAY MULTIPLE KNIFE ATTACKS ARE ‘POSSIBLE TERRORIST ATTACK’
POLICE CONFIRM 2 PEOPLE KILLED,
3 WOUNDED IN 5 SEPARATE KNIFE ATTACKS
ACROSS LONDON – STATEMENT
LONDON, May 22 (IPS) – London police said five separate knife attacks that occurred in the British capital were a ‘possible terrorist attack’.
Two people were killed and three seriously wounded in separate locations across the capital, the Metropolitan Police said in a statement.
Famie blinked hard. ‘Second eyes! I need second eyes on this!’
Ethan James, EMEA editor, the man in shorts, appeared at her shoulder, read the copy.
‘And the dead man is Harry Thomas,’ said Famie. ‘Also from Investigations. Serena just confirmed it.’
‘Jesus. She got that from the medics?’ he said.
‘No. But she and Harry are friends, Ethan. She knows.’
‘It’s good to go then.’
Famie snapped it. ‘That’s two of ours, Ethan. They sit next to each other. Just there.’ She jerked her thumb at the glass. ‘We need the bureau chief,’ she said.
‘Agreed. I’ll call him. And I’ll message the other bureaus to hold down non-essential copy.’ The EMEA editor walked away, already dialling.
The ten faces in the bureau were all looking at her. They knew already, but Famie confirmed it. ‘Kentish Town death is Harry Thomas.’ Hands over mouths. Heads in hands.
Another phone began to ring, but this time heads turned. It was Mary Lawson’s, a single red light flashing on her console, the shrill tone carrying through the glass. Then other identical tones began until it seemed all the phones in the Investigations cluster were ringing at once. Answerphones kicked in eventually, only for the ringing to start again. Tommi tried their door.
‘Locked,’ he said.
Seven phones ringing.
Sam Carter said it first. ‘Do we have any ID on the other victims?’ They didn’t, Sam knew they didn’t, but he’d asked the question anyway. The implication was clear. Holy shit, this was going to be a long morning.
Slot phone. ‘Famie Madden here.’ There was a beat’s pause at the other end, then the sound of a deep breath being taken, enough time for dread to settle in Famie’s gut. ‘Famie Madden,’ she repeated.
Heads around the bureau turned slowly.
‘This is Dr Edmund Alexander from Croydon University Hospital.’ He paused. Famie knew calls like this only led one way. ‘Is this
