“Gloves,” Banbury reminded, “are you wearing them?”
Bryant ignored him. “I want this lad tested for drugs. Nice middle-class boy, he’s bound to have dabbled. His medical records were clean, no fits or dizzy spells, no history of seizures, nothing. No enemies, everybody liked him. Something wrong with that, for a start.”
“You’re a cynic, Mr Bryant.”
“If you live long enough, you will be, too.” Bryant pulled his scarf over his squat nose. “There’s a bad smell down here. Standing water. And I speak as one who knows.”
“Ah, yes, your little adventure through the city sewers,” said Banbury. “I’m amazed you didn’t get sick.”
“I’ve built up plenty of antibodies by eating Alma’s cooking. Do you need a hand getting him out?”
“No, Mr Hale and I can bag him and move him as far as the platform. Then we’ll need the med team to stretcher him. I’ll get some of these fibres off to Portishead, and bung out the dabs.”
“Can we afford it?”
“Only if it turns out to be murder, so we’ll have to take a gamble. They should have finished running a match on your students by now. Why don’t you go back up?”
“Come on, John, let’s get out of here.” Bryant pulled at his partner’s arm, but May remained in place, staring at the body that lay facedown in the bin. “What’s the matter?”
“He reminds me of Alex when he was a student,” said May quietly. “I’ve lost them both, haven’t I?”
“I know you and your son never saw eye to eye, but Alex moved to Toronto to follow his work. Staying with him will be a healthy change for April. She isn’t taking sides against you. She’ll come back when she’s ready, you’ll see.” Bryant was no diplomat, but he could recognise the problem from both sides. May’s granddaughter had little chance of leading a normal life while she worked at the Unit. She needed to be at peace with herself. “Come on, let’s see if we can find a pub that’s still open.”
May lingered near the corpse of the student. “We can go for them now,” he said at last. “Hillingdon’s misplaced travel card is just cause for a full property search. Let’s come down hard on those students. Get their phone records subpoenaed and their emails opened. I’ll want their laptops, phones, hard drives, PDAs, anything else they’ve got. If one of them is responsible we’ll find something that doesn’t make sense.”
“If you’re dealing with someone smart,” Banbury called back, “he’ll be using a Pay As You Go phone and keeping his texts and emails clean of evidence.”
“They’re college students,” May replied, nettled. “One of them will slip up. They won’t all manage to corroborate their stories. They’re already under stress. We need to light a fire beneath them.”
As they walked toward the surface their phone reception returned, and they received Longbright’s message, informing them that she had encountered the sharp end of Mr Fox’s silver skewer.
∨ Off the Rails ∧
34
Surveillance
Early on Friday morning, London was buffeted by storm-winds from the east bringing ever darker threats of rain. Two days now remained before the Unit had to present its caseload closed and ready for official review.
Meera stood outside the Tottenham Court Road coffee shop and watched as, on the other side of the glass, Nikos Nicolau consumed yet another breakfast, this time a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich. So far he had searched three locations for discount computer software, purchased a new cell phone and stopped at three different coffee shops. While he ate, he fired up the new phone and discarded its packaging on the floor. He seemed to shed litter wherever he moved. At least he was totally absorbed by his tasks and took no notice of his surroundings. That made him easier to follow.
Meera was bored and cold. Usually she could find a way to enjoy surveillance, but Nicolau was an uninteresting subject, and she had not dressed warmly enough. In between snacks, the student wandered mesmerised around the software shelves. He seemed in no hurry to get to class, or anywhere else for that matter. The only other stop he’d made was at the Karma Bar, where he cupped his hands over the window and peered inside, looking for someone.
She huddled down in the doorway next to the Mac World store, and waited for him to finish stuffing himself. Nikos did not look like he was capable of murdering anyone, but he was certainly on some kind of mission. Every now and again he extracted a pen from his top pocket and scribbled urgent notes on a scrap of paper. He had screwed up the first pages and shoved them in his jacket pocket.
Nicolau wiped his mouth and rose to leave, stepping out of the detritus he had created as if shucking off an old skin. Meera raised her collar and dropped back into the shadows as he passed. Boring and obnoxious, she decided, but not a killer. Even so, the intense look she caught on his face as he passed disturbed her.
♦
Further up the road, Rajan Sangeeta threaded himself quickly and nervously through the morning crowds. He had attended an early lecture on ‘Light-Density Retail Building; Creating Urban Downtowns’, before heading for the British Library. But he had then stopped dead in the middle of the deserted library square to take a phone call. Colin Bimsley, who had been following a few paces behind him, was brought up short and had to hastily divert behind a tree; being inconspicuous had never been his strong point. He tried to listen as he passed, but caught only a few words: “It just feels wrong…more careful in future.” Taken out of context, the phrases sounded sinister. He strained to hear, but a garbage truck was drawing up outside the library gates and drowned out the rest of the conversation.
Sangeeta headed for the library coffee shop and worked on his laptop, but there were flickers of anger within him. At one point he suddenly shut his eyes and pressed a palm across them, as if to try and relieve a pain he knew he could not control. Bimsley ordered a coffee and settled himself, knowing he was in for a long wait.
♦
Longbright’s shoulder was sore, but the dense padding of her jacket had prevented the skewer from penetrating more than a couple of centimetres. She had cleansed and swabbed the small wound, and was now staking out Theo Fontvieille. He, too, had attended the ‘Urban Downtowns’ lecture – Longbright had spotted Bimsley outside the college – but he had left early and was standing on the corner of Gower Street and Torrington Place, obviously waiting to meet someone.
She wasn’t surprised when Ruby Cates turned up. After all, the pair were sharing a house. But the lingering kiss that followed changed the nature of their relationship, and sent Longbright’s thoughts in a new direction. Everyone assumed that the killer was a man, but suppose Ruby had told Matthew Hillingdon she was breaking up with him? What if he had taken it badly and threatened her? What if she had needed to get rid of his attentions?
Theo was smiling, holding her eyes with his. Ruby didn’t exactly seem to be in mourning for her missing lover. They talked, and as Longbright watched from the doorway of the Japanese restaurant opposite, she sensed something else, an anxiety that darted across Theo’s face. It seemed he had said something Ruby felt strongly about, because now they were sniping at each other, and this quickly turned into a full-blown argument.
Suddenly, Ruby Cates didn’t seem so friendly and helpful. She looked downright lethal.
It was raining hard, but neither of them seemed to notice. Ruby stabbed her finger at Theo, who tried to laugh off her anger, and now he was asking her to please come back as she stormed off along the pavement with damp shoulders and furiously dark eyes.