Anna glanced at Mike Lewis; both had been waiting to hear what had been said in the ICU.
‘Not a lot. When shown the picture we found in his clothes, there was a reaction, but who the two children and the woman are, we probably will never know. Travis is pretty sure the small teddy bear found in his jacket pocket belonged to Gail’s dead child, so we are testing it for DNA.’ Langton dug into his pocket and brought out his notebook. ‘I didn’t have long to question him, and most of his answers were physical reactions.’
Langton reported that when he had asked Sickert about Gail, the sick man had said what sounded like, ‘She was good to me.’
‘I asked him how she had died, and he became agitated. When I told him how we had discovered the death of her young daughter, he gave a guttural moan. When I asked if he had killed Gail and the toddler, he shook his head.’
Langton continued to go through all his questions. Sickert’s responses were often unintelligible. He did, however, manage one whole sentence. This was connected to Gail’s two children.
Langton read from his notebook. ‘“I took care of them; I took them. I knew they had come for me.’”
Langton sighed. He had pressed for clarification — like, who had come for him? — but got no response. He did get a reaction, however, when he asked if the people who came to the piggery drove a white Range Rover: Sickert had nodded his head.
Brandon put his hand up to say that forensic had verified the vehicle had been there from soil tests. They were still waiting for results from tests on the inside of the vehicle. Prints had been taken and run through the database; so far, that had come up blank.
‘One step forwards, two back,’ Langton muttered, and shut his notebook. He then turned to the board. ‘There was one name that made the dying man almost lift off the bed: I asked if Clinton Camorra had arranged for him to enter the UK.’
Sickert had gasped, and tried to get hold of Langton’s clothing. ‘Bad man, bad man — him powerful. He want me dead.’
Langton picked up a red marker and crossed out Sickert’s face on the board. ‘Well, he is now.’ He paused. ‘This is yet another link to this bastard Camorra. I tried to get out of Sickert his whereabouts but, by this time, he was fading fast. We found a couple of bus tickets in his jacket: I want the areas checked out as they are not in Peckham, where we’ve concentrated on trying to find Camorra. He could have moved to Christ knows where, but one ticket is Tooting, another Clapham. It’s a bit of a wild-goose chase but, Harry, it’s worth getting onto the transport people to find out which stops the tickets are from.’
Langton looked at his watch: time was moving fast. He next concentrated on Grace and the Child Protection Unit. He needed to find out if either of the children had been able to give any details of where they had been. Grace could only state that, after numerous calls, the Unit had said neither child was fit enough to be questioned; they were still very traumatized.
‘Cut out the phone calls, Grace, and get over there. Talk to them yourself, if you can. Traumatized or not, we need some answers. They were bloody missing for weeks.’
Grace was very uneasy about having to put pressure on the two children. The boy had been sexually assaulted, but the little girl had not. They had both been well fed and, although they had headlice, they were not in poor physical shape. Mentally, however, they were still terrorized.
‘Sometimes, we all have to do things we don’t feel are appropriate,’ Langton said tiredly, reading her expression. ‘We might get some detail of where they were held, and if they had been kept at Camorra’s place. So, do what you have to do.’
‘Yes, sir. Are we still calling him Clinton Camorra, or are we using the other name given by Doctor Salaam — Emmerick?’
‘Listen, call him both. With so many false names, who in Christ knows what he’s really called. See if the kids react to either.’
Langton sighed. ‘Okay, that’s it. We move out in half an hour. Frank, put pressure on forensics to see if they can give us anything more from the Range Rover. We’re still running pretty much on empty; let’s hope to God, after this afternoon, that changes.’
The convoy of unmarked patrol cars left the station at two o’clock and arrived at the hospital shortly before three. It was a modern building, set well back from the road, with a high wall and wrought-iron gates. The Contagious Disease Units were listed as A, B, C and D; they were to use D gate, and D building. This was used for highly contagious diseases and was set apart from the rest of the hospital. Two armed guards stood at the entrance.
Parked outside was a prison van and a back-up car of uniformed officers; they had brought Idris Krasiniqe from Wakefield. There was also a police ambulance; this had picked up Eamon Krasiniqe from the local airport, where the emergency medical helicopter had brought him from Parkhurst.
An unmarked patrol car, which had been used to bring Dr Salaam and his wife Esme to the hospital, was also parked nearby. The couple had been installed in a safe house, and would remain there until the doctor agreed that it was safe to return to his surgery. This added cost had made Langton tear at his hair, but the Salaams had insisted and refused to take part in the session with Eamon Krasiniqe unless he agreed.
Langton, Lewis and Anna were led through a maze of white-walled corridors. There were no notices, no advertising, no signs directing anyone anywhere. They reached a thick glass sliding door. Waiting for them was a white-coated doctor, who said he would lead them to the first anteroom, where the Salaams were waiting. He had travelled with the patient from Parkhurst prison. They were led through yet more white-walled corridors; only the odd fire extinguisher was visible and, high up on the ceiling, cameras and speakers.
The room was glass-walled, with a vast amount of equipment including oxygen cylinders, heart monitors and breathing apparatus. In the centre of the room was a trolley, with a white sheet over it. The window to the next consulting room was covered by a green blind.
Dr Salaam was standing at a steel table, a medical case open, various bottles and rows of folded packets of herbs inside. His wife was beside him, carefully checking the contents; both were wearing white coats. They turned as Langton and his team entered. The silence was palpable.
Salaam did not waste time. He spoke so softly that it was, at times, hard to hear what he was saying. ‘The medical team that brought Krasiniqe here are very concerned. His blood pressure is very low and he is suffering from malnutrition.’
Langton nodded; this was all he wanted to hear. It wasn’t going to do much for them if he died. ‘But he is alive?’
‘Yes, he is alive, but I have not been allowed to examine him yet.’
‘Well, we’d better get on with it fast,’ Langton muttered.
Salaam held up his hand. ‘One moment. I first need to ask you some questions.’
‘Very well.’
‘I have the patient’s medical history. I have asked if the man who assisted him in the assault—’
‘Bit more than that, Doctor; he slit a man’s throat.’
Salaam nodded. ‘Did anyone physically check out the man who helped in this murder?’
Langton shrugged, and said if it was not on any medical report, then he wouldn’t know.
‘Specifically for puncture marks.’
‘Like injections?’
‘Yes.’
Langton sighed. He looked to Mike Lewis and mimed picking up a phone. Lewis nodded and walked out.
Esme placed onto the table a large square leather box. She opened it, and Anna saw that it contained electrodes, old-fashioned ones, and a rubber mouth-guard. She wondered if they were going to give Krasiniqe ECT treatment.
‘Right,’ Salaam said, as he shook out a pair of rubber gloves. ‘Let me have a look at him.’