One of the champion Super Recognizers was a custody officer called Idris, whose abilities had led to over one hundred and fifty arrests to date. Under an initiative set up by the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, Sir Bernard Hogan-Howe, the Super Recognizer team was formed — many of whom were civilians. Some of the unit worked out of Charing Cross police station, but the majority from New Scotland Yard.
‘I’ve got a contact with them, an old friend who used to be a PC in Brighton,’ Packham said. ‘Jonathan Jackson.’
‘I remember him well — good guy. OK, let’s wait to see what we get back,’ Grace said.
‘I’ll ping you Jonathan’s contact details,’ Packham said.
After Batchelor and Packham left, Grace sat thinking again.
Momentarily distracted by an email that had come in about next week’s venue for the Thursday-night poker game he tried — and mostly failed — to attend regularly, he was checking his diary when the phone rang.
‘Detective Superintendent Grace,’ he answered.
‘Roy, do you want to tell me just what on earth is going on with DS Exton?’ It was Cassian Pewe, sounding his usual friendly self — not. ‘I’ve just had a conversation with Superintendent Darke — why did you not inform me right away about the misuse of his phone?’
‘Because, sir, Superintendent Darke asked me to speak to DS Exton as a matter of urgency — to see what I could find out.’
‘I trust you’ve asked PSD to suspend him?’
‘Well, actually, sir, I think he’s in a pretty bad way, mentally. He’s had a relationship breakdown and he’s not coping, in my view. I had a talk with him and he’s agreed to see the force doctor. He’s a highly trusted member of my team and I feel I need to support him, not hang him out to dry — which will just make things worse.’
‘Let’s hope you’re making the right decision, Roy. On your head be it.’
‘I understand, sir.’
‘Good.’
‘Oh — one thing I wanted to ask you, sir,’ Grace went on. ‘I didn’t know you spoke German.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘You were talking quite a bit to my son, Bruno, in German.’
‘And your point is, Roy?’
‘It was very kind of you, sir, to take the time and trouble.’
The ACC made a strange grunting sound and hung up. Grace was curious. Why had Pewe sounded so defensive about speaking German?
But he had bigger issues on his mind right now.
84
Friday 29 April
SNAFU. It’s an old US military expression dating back to the Second World War. Situation Normal, All Fucked Up.
Yep. That’s about the size of it.
That’s how it would look to the casual observer. Except, I’m not a casual observer; sadly I’m an interested party.
Very interested.
My life might be shit at the moment. It feels like it’s all getting out of hand. The hunter and the hunted. But I’ll come up with a plan, I always do. I’ve just got to turn the tables, create that smokescreen. Create that thing we have in the British judiciary. Beyond reasonable doubt.
Innocent?
Beyond reasonable doubt.
Guilty?
Beyond reasonable doubt.
I have the advantage here, I know the truth.
But you know, I was never this way before. I was just an ordinary, decent human being. I never wanted to be a killer. I’m still not even sure I have actually killed, but you are hunting me down like I did.
Just know one thing, Detective Superintendent, and it’s this:
I’ll do whatever it takes not to be found out and have my life destroyed.
Whatever it takes.
I need help. I really do.
But I’m not sure help would really help.
I’m a mess. It’s all a mess. Somehow I’ve got to pack it all back in the box. Stay one step ahead.
At least I’m in a position to do that.
85
Friday 29 April
As was his ritual each morning whatever time he arrived at work, Roy Grace checked his emails, Twitter, and had a quick glance through the overnight serials — the log of all reported crimes in the city of Brighton and Hove. Muggings, assaults, fights, break-ins, robberies, RTCs, vehicle thefts, drug arrests, missing persons. He was always curious to see what was going on in his beloved city, although few of these serials ever concerned him directly.
However, there was one particular item today that caught his eye. Made him freeze.
Made him swear out aloud.
An hour later, he sat in on the 8.30 a.m. briefing of Operation Bantam. He could have let Batchelor get on with it, but equally, he had too much riding on this himself, and he felt that Guy needed his steering hand. After all, he was the SIO.
But he was too distracted by the serial he had seen.
The team had now expanded to over twenty detectives and support staff, but there was one conspicuous absentee in the conference room today: DS Exton. Grace’s concerns about this detective he had long trusted were deepening. They were about to deepen further.
His phone rang. It was Chris Gargan from the Forensics Unit, sounding perplexed. ‘Sir?’ he said.
‘Hang on a sec, Chris.’
Grace stepped out of the room into the corridor. ‘OK, I’m with you.’
‘One of your team, Jon Exton, dropped us over a GoPro memory card last night, with an urgent request to see if we could enhance it.’
‘Yes. What have you managed to get?’
‘Well, I don’t know if someone’s made a mistake, but it’s blank, sir.’
Grace felt a sharp, sinking sensation. ‘Blank? The memory card?’
‘Yes, there’s nothing on it.’
Gargan had one of those voices that always sounded totally straight, with no hint of disingenuousness. In all his dealings with this CSI, Grace had found that what you saw or heard was what you got.
‘There couldn’t be any mistake, Chris?’ Even as he said the words, he knew they were futile. The Surrey and Sussex Forensics Department in Guildford was one of the most efficiently run units in both forces.
‘No, Roy, I’m sorry, not at this end — what we’ve been given is a blank memory card.’
‘Might it have been wiped?’
‘Well, yes, either wiped, or it’s a new card, never used, which I think is more likely.’
‘It couldn’t just be a dud?’
‘No, we’ve tested it and it records correctly.’
Grace thanked him and ended the call. Shit. The nightmare he didn’t want to believe really did seem to be coming true.
On the serials earlier, the one that had caught his eye was a theft from a motor vehicle. Not something he would ordinarily have paid any attention to, vehicle break-ins happened all the time. Mostly they were random chaotic crimes by drug users desperate to pay for their next fix, grabbing a TomTom or a handbag, or anything of value the owner had left on view.
The thief had gained access the usual way, by smashing one of the rear windows of the BMW, sometime during the night. The car had been ransacked. Among the items taken was the GoPro camera.
The car was parked in Vallance Street.
Its owner’s name was Christopher Diplock.
Instead of returning to the briefing, Roy Grace strode back to his office, called Ray Packham and updated him on the blank memory card and the stolen GoPro. ‘Ray, is there any way this man, Diplock, could have given you the wrong memory card in error?’