He doled out more tasks to the troops then let them loose. It felt like firing shots into the dark with a weapon he hadn’t loaded himself. He might be firing blanks. Which reminded him. He turned to Austin. ‘Where’s Dearlove?’
DC Dearlove had managed to hide throughout the briefing, even in this cramped room, behind the broad back of DS Sorbie. Austin spotted him and called across the noise of the meeting breaking up. ‘Hey, Deedee, can we borrow your brain for a minute?’
Dearlove stood up. ‘Yeah, okay, what for?’
‘We’re trying to build an idiot.’
‘Funny, Jane.’ Then he felt himself skewered by McLusky’s unnerving green eyes and was compelled to walk over after all.
McLusky wondered how the gawky youth with a suit full of static had made it into the police force. Would there really be a Detective Inspector Dearlove one day? ‘Bendick has round-the-clock protection? When can I see her?’
‘I left a note on your desk, sir.’
‘I’m not a great note reader, Deedee. Find me, talk to me, call my mobile, send a pigeon. Don’t leave bits of paper lying around expecting people to have read them, you get into trouble that way. Always make sure information is passed on properly and you know it’s been received.’
‘Okay, sir. Is that all, sir?’
‘No, Deedee, it isn’t all. What did you write in your damn note?’
‘Oh, sure, it’s all done, there’ll be a bod outside her room, 24/7. There was no word from Southmead on when she can be interviewed. They were operating when I asked. They’ll let us know.’
‘They never do. Keep asking, okay?’ He turned to Austin. ‘If this was a murder inquiry what would you be doing right now, Jane?’ Austin opened his mouth but McLusky was already walking away. ‘I’m going to watch a video.’
In his office he found notes, performance targets, preliminary reports, memos and other things he hated with a passion. But no CCTV footage. Of course he hated CCTV footage too. What you saw there was already over, could no longer be prevented. CCTV showed you crimes that should never have happened, accidents that could have been avoided, people who by now had disappeared and victims already dead. He hated everything about it. Yet it was sometimes useful and it often secured convictions.
He phoned the desk. The footage from the gym and surrounding area should have arrived by now. There was no answer. He let it ring for a while then left his office and clattered downstairs.
It was the public who really liked CCTV. They couldn’t get enough of it. They liked being watched, it made them feel safe. To like being under surveillance you had to have a childish faith in the benevolence of those who were watching you, a faith McLusky didn’t share. All this stuff looked good practice now but nothing lasted forever, not even democracy.
The noise level coming from the lobby was alarming for this time of day. When he let himself in through the security door he could see why no one had answered the phone. Down here at least two phones were ringing incessantly. Everyone was arguing loudly with someone. The place looked more like a bad Saturday night than mid-afternoon on a weekday. Two half-naked drunks were being noisily processed. One of them was being restrained by two PCs while he screamed abuse at Tony Hayes, the desk officer. The other drunk who, judging by the state of his rancid trainers, was the author of a pool of vomit on the floor, gave slurred support to his friend. ‘Too fuckin’ right, Bobby … they’ve no right … you fuckin’ said it.’ Two officers were waiting to check in their customers, two girls arrested for shoplifting. Repeat offenders, scrawny smack heads who whined with hard flat voices that grated in McLusky’s ears. Their hair was thin, their skin pale and slack. A middle-aged black woman wearing an ensemble of Day-Glo clothes stood under the noticeboard, talking loudly to herself in impenetrable angry patois while treading from one foot to another like a child needing the toilet. An elderly Asian couple walked into the lobby. Both said something that to McLusky’s lip-reading skills looked like ‘Oh dear’ and walked straight out again. The drunk and disorderly would sober up in the cells, the shoplifters would be processed and eventually released back on to the streets. Having been relieved of the stolen goods the girls would of course have to commit some crime as soon as possible. If the shops were shut by then they would have to mug someone to get the money for gear or else they’d smash their way into a car to find stuff to sell. Meanwhile politicians congratulated themselves if the price of heroin went up because of Customs and Excise seizures. They imagined it a success while all it meant was volume crime had to rise with it to match the escalating price. But the price of heroin was still shockingly low compared to a night out at a club.
Addiction … He craved another cigarette. For McLusky an air of futility seemed to rise from the vomit-and dirt-covered floor. Here were six police officers who would spend hours dealing with four teenagers who had made drugs and alcohol the centre of their universe; a universe so tiny there was no room left inside for anyone but themselves. The screaming bloke was handcuffed now and got tired of struggling but kept up the verbal with moronic repetitiveness. Tony Hayes, who had been abused by experts during his many years in the job, showed no sign of strain, though he briefly raised one eyebrow when one of the girls shut up long enough to spit in his direction. Tony Hayes liked a clean lobby. Tony Hayes was also wearing his stabbie as a matter of course, ever since an irate customer had vaulted the desk and attacked him with a sharpened screwdriver last summer. McLusky let himself into the relative security of the area behind the desk. Hayes acknowledged him but kept his concentration on logging the details of the drunk. McLusky looked around, spotted a likely-looking carrier bag with a yellow post-it sticker on one of the desks and grabbed it.
‘I meant to send them up as soon as I had a minute.’ Hayes spoke without turning around, having excellent hearing as well as eyes at the back of his head.
The bag was suspiciously light. ‘There’s not a lot here.’
‘That’s all that came, sir.’
Back upstairs McLusky found a DVR and monitor in the CID room. It was quiet, most officers being out for a change, chasing something. Austin was there chewing a cheap biro into oblivion in front of his computer. McLusky loaded the footage. There was none from the gym. He complained about it to Austin.
‘There wouldn’t be, the system’s not switched on during the day.’
All that had come was CCTV from the Council House car park. Footage of the whole day was there but for the moment he was only interested in that covering the time and area of Maxine Bendick’s approximate arrival. The image was in black and white and a time counter ran at the bottom right, accurate to one tenth of a second. Once he knew what he was looking at he could safely fast-forward until the car whizzed into view, then he rewound and pressed play. The Mini came into the picture on the bottom left, speeded up and slotted neatly into the space in one movement. At this moment there were no people and no other moving cars visible. All the spaces at this end were taken now. After only the shortest interval Maxine Bendick got out of the car. He paused the tape. So that’s what she looked like. He mentally corrected himself: this is what she had looked like, before half her face was burnt off. He released the flow of the image. The woman sprang to life again, retrieved her bag from the passenger seat then pointed her key, which was answered by a silent flash of the car lights. She walked off briskly through the rain. An undamaged, unburnt Maxine, untouched by the madness, walked into the wilderness without noticing it. The car park was on a slight slope. The picture angle was a little awkward but adequate, looking across from the top of one of the high lamp-posts. Maxine was making her way towards the edge of the picture which only showed a narrow strip of pavement. A couple, man and woman, appeared from that direction. He would later follow their movements and, if they walked to a car, try and identify it and trace them. Maxine speeded up now and then disappeared out of the frame. End of story. Nothing had happened.