‘Are you thinking he’s a local?’ Diamond said.
‘Got to be.’
‘Local to Wells and Radstock, too?’ Leaman got in, still smarting from the putdown.
‘And Becky Addy Wood,’ Diamond said. ‘Unless we’re mistaken about the motorcyclist and it was someone else.’
‘No chance,’ Gull said. ‘That was our man. The practice shots in the tree. The hideout. The way he hightailed it when we got near. Obviously he used the wood as his base.’
‘If he’s local,’ Leaman said, ‘why hide in a wood? Why not work from home?’ His dogged logic was starting to sound insubordinate.
Diamond headed off another dustup. ‘Because he doesn’t want to appear suspicious. He may be living with someone else who doesn’t know he owns a gun.’
Gull nodded. ‘Fair point.’
‘Tell me,’ Diamond said. ‘Do we have any fingerprints from the previous shootings?’
‘No fingerprints,’ Gull said. ‘He’s too smart to leave any. Shoe prints. A nice clean set from the tree house he used as a hide in Wells.’
‘But they’re on file here, are they?’ Diamond’s thoughts were still with Willis, the clever-dick civil servant. ‘So at least we have something to compare with, if we come up with a suspect?’
‘If he always wears the same pair of trainers, yes.’
Moving on, Diamond asked, ‘Did you find anything more after I was taken to hospital?’
‘In the woods, you mean? Less than I hoped for. Some boot prints, a few tyre prints, no use until we find the boots and a bike that match them. I’m assuming he buried the rifle somewhere in the wood, but you saw what the ground is like. We could have fingertip searches for a month and still not find it.’
‘He may be back to collect the gun.’
‘I thought of that,’ Gull said. ‘Told the Wiltshire guys to keep a twenty-four watch for the whole of next week. They’re not happy. The chief inspector talks about resources and calls it an Avon and Somerset crime, as if his county has no stake in it. The point is that the sniper isn’t fucking interested in who polices what. He’s as likely to strike next in Wilts as he is here.’
‘That’s if he spots a copper on the beat at night,’ Diamond said. ‘What are we going to do about that?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Are we going to send out more guys to be shot at?’
Gull frowned. ‘We can’t abandon the streets. The public wouldn’t stand for it.’
‘The public isn’t risking its life. The public can lock its doors and go to bed in safety.’
This flew in the face of modern police procedure. After a pause, Gull said, ‘I don’t know if I’m hearing right. It’s your job and mine to keep the streets safe at night.’
‘We can do that in patrol cars,’ Diamond said. ‘Personally, I’ve never been all that impressed by foot patrols.’
‘You’re on a loser there. Community policing. It’s government policy. Every politician who gets elected calls for a bigger police presence on the streets. The papers scream for it. The public wants it. That’s democracy.’
‘This argument was going on when I first joined the police. Joe Public may feel comforted by the sight of a bobby walking up the high street, but what happens when a crime is committed? They call 999 and expect quick action. That guy on the beat isn’t there before a response car.’
‘Yes, but we can’t measure the deterrent effect. You can’t say how many villains were put off robbing old ladies by the sight of bobbies on the streets.’
‘Not many,’ Diamond said. ‘When old ladies are robbed, it’s in their homes mostly, not outside.’
‘You’re missing the point,’ Gull said. ‘The public sleeps easier at nights knowing we’re out there.’
‘And up and down this country a police officer is assaulted on the streets every twenty minutes.’
‘Don’t quote stats at me, Diamond. Up and down this country includes the West Midlands, Strathclyde and the Met. We’re Avon and Somerset, remember.’
‘Peaceful old Avon and Somerset where upwards of a hundred and fifty officers have been victims of assault over the last year. And what is more — ’
‘A hundred and fifty-one.’
Diamond was halted in mid-flow, but not by Gull. John Leaman had spoken again.
‘What?’
‘A hundred and fifty-one, guv. We’ve got to add you to the list.’
Without intending to, Leaman had defused the argument.
Gull gave a rare smile. ‘He’s right. Some people will do anything to prove a point, even flinging themselves under fucking motorbikes.’
‘In point of fact, gentlemen,’ Diamond said with all the dignity he could muster, ‘I wasn’t in Avon and Somerset at the time. I was in Wiltshire.’
The neighbourhood policing debate stopped there. Fortunately the adrenalin rush of clashing with Gull had stopped Diamond thinking about his injuries. His brain was functioning again.
‘Look at this from the sniper’s point of view,’ he said, getting back to the issue that mattered. ‘The first two shootings, in Wells and Radstock, appear to have been carried out without a hitch. He gave nothing away except a few shoe prints and the inevitable, the calibre of the bullets he used. Today was different. He managed the killing okay, except for losing a cartridge case in the undergrowth, but after that things went belly up. For some reason he got trapped in that garden and could have been caught by Lockton and Stillman. He got lucky when Lockton thought he could act alone, but he was forced to clobber Lockton, which was never in the plan.’
Gull took up the narrative. ‘Yes, and after that, he gets on his bike and drives off to the woods and has another close call. He didn’t reckon on us getting onto him so soon.’
‘By his high standards, today was a mess,’ Diamond summed up. ‘He won’t be feeling so chipper. If, as we believe, he hid the gun in Becky Addy Wood, he’ll be worried that we’ll make a search and find it. He knows that’s difficult, but not impossible. With metal detectors we may locate it. And if he intends to carry out more shootings, he’ll need that gun.’
Gull wasn’t comfortable when Diamond was doing the talking. ‘He’s an expert marksman. He may well have other guns. If so, he could afford to leave it buried, rather than risk going back.’
‘I’m not so sure, Jack. That rifle has served him well. Gunmen get attached to their weapons like snooker players with their cues. Bearing in mind that it’s a tell-tale piece of evidence with his prints and his DNA and maybe some of Ken Lockton’s blood and hair adhering to the stock, plus the fact that he wants to use it again, I’m sure he’ll run the risk of going back for it.’
‘If he does, we’ll collar him.’
‘You’re talking about the stake-out?’
‘Right.’
‘Which we’re asking Wiltshire to provide, but with their limited resources. It’s a bigger area than it first appears, that wood, and he seems to know it well. He’ll back himself to outwit a few coppers on a twenty-four hour watch. The question is when does he return? He’ll go by night, when he has the advantage of knowing the terrain. But does he play the long game and leave it until he’s ready to stage another murder, or will he want to collect his gun before then?’
‘He’s cool. He’ll play the long game,’ Gull said.
‘Can’t agree. Every hour that gun is in the wood it will prey on his mind that we’ll find it.’
‘In his shoes, what would you do, then?’ Gull clearly resented having to ask.
‘Go back tonight or tomorrow. I’d approach the wood on foot and be armed, maybe with a handgun, in case I was spotted.’
‘You’d need a torch.’
‘That goes without saying. And a backpack.’
‘What time would you go?’
‘Well after midnight. All of the shootings have occurred not long before dawn. He’ll need some shut-eye after last night. I expect he’s catching up right now, while we agonise over what he does next.’