What interested me when we talked about crossbows is that anyone can learn to use them easily and quickly. You may not become a champion in a couple of hours, but you can learn enough to hit a target at thirty metres. There’s no strain on the muscles, as there is with a longbow. The length of draw is fixed and the release is mechanical. The modern bows have telescopic sights. It’s rather like shooting a rifle, except that there’s no recoil. There’s that disadvantage-and it was a major problem in ancient warfare-that it takes time to reload. But one shot should be enough.
I wouldn’t mind DCI Jimmy Barneston showing me how to hold a crossbow. He’s the SIO I’ve been itching to write about. Tall, a smart dresser, broad-shouldered, mid-thirties (I’d say), with amazing blue eyes like Peter O’Toole’s. Long, elegant fingers. If he only knew what I was thinking when I looked at those fingers! I just know he’d be sensational in bed. Watch out, Ken. There’s someone else for me to fantasise over now.
It’s not just his good looks. He’s got to be a crack hand to have been picked as SIO on this one. I like his confidence. Predictably, this hunky cop wanted an instant opinion and I had to tell him sweetly that certain things can’t, and shouldn’t, be rushed. I fed the poor lad a few first thoughts to keep him sweet, the idea that the killer was challenging the police and this could be a motive in itself. I warned him to expect surprises and gave him a bit of a look. I’m sure the blue eyes twinkled.
I drove back to Gt Pulteney St still thinking about it all. Didn’t even bother to garage the car, I was so hyped up. I really want to make a contribution here. This, I feel strongly, has the hallmarks of a groundbreaking case, certain to be written up in the literature for years to come, and I don’t want to put a foot wrong. There’s huge pressure, with the lives of two named people at risk. True, the pressure isn’t all on me. It’s up to my new friend Jimmy to see that Porter and Walpurgis are given protection. There’s a double bind here. They’re public figures. If they’re kept under wraps for long, they’ll die a professional death anyway. In their lines of work they have to show themselves, and the Mariner will be waiting.
He may not use a crossbow next time. He’s obviously intelligent and capable of devising an even more ingenious method. Having killed once and got clean away from the scene, he’ll be confident. With an inflated sense of his self-worth and a total lack of conscience, he’ll throw himself into this challenge of his own making and try to show us up as incompetents. I’m scared, as well as excited. I fear thee, ancient mariner! Yes, Computer, I’ve found a copy of the poem, and I’ve read the whole thing again. It has more than enough scenes of horror in the text, without the added dimension this murder brings.
Too soon yet to start on a profile. I want to weigh up all the information I have. It’s tempting to assume this is a serial killer before he carries out a second murder-and that may be a mistake. Am I dealing with a boaster or is he a committed killer? Obviously there’s pressure on me to provide a profile before someone else is murdered.
So let’s assume the Mariner intends to kill again. I can’t duck the perennial question any longer: is this a psychopath? How I hate this word with all its colourful associations, suggesting, as it does, a biological propensity to kill, a pathogenic drive, when in reality there’s no organic or psychotic explanation for such behaviour. All we can say for sure is that certain individuals who persistently commit violent crimes are able to function at two contradictory levels. They appear ‘normal’ with an ability to understand and participate in human relationships. Yet they have a detachment that allows them to carry out random acts of violence without pity or guilt. If the Mariner fitted this profile I would expect him to have a history, a trail of cruelty, broken hearts and suffering. They don’t suddenly take to murder. It’s part of a process that begins early. I keep saying him, and I ought to remind myself that a woman could fit this crime. Harder to imagine, but not impossible.
Then there’s the other kind of serial killer, equally as chilling, acting not on impulse, but from a clear motive such as revenge, or ambition, or greed, probably deriving from some seminal incident in his life. He has an agenda and the killing of his victims is purposeful. He’s not at all the same as the random killer who may claim to have a ‘mission’ to kill prostitutes, or gay men, or people of a certain racial group. He has made decisions to deprive certain individuals of life. He creates a role for himself in which he has the power to rectify what he sees as personal injustices.
I don’t know yet where to place the Mariner.
This evening I cooled off in the bath and drank lager from the fridge and lolled around in my Japanese dressing gown listening to Berlioz and thinking. Just before ten the phone went and I jumped up and grabbed it. Only Ken, making sure I was still on for Popjoy’s tomorrow. Couldn’t get too excited about the prospect. I mean, I knew we had a booking already, and I suppose it showed in my voice. For him it’s a very big deal. I could tell he was disappointed in me, but I told him I’d had a trying day and I’d be more like myself tomorrow night. He’s getting clingy and I’m not sure I like that.
And now it’s another day and I’m spending the morning at home with my books checking on the kinds of serial killers who choose or need to communicate information about their crimes. I just want to see if it’s an indicator. Jack the Ripper-if his letters are to be believed-must have been an early example of this type. ‘You’ll hear about Saucy Jack’s work tomorrow. Double event this time.’ Another was David Berkowitz, self-styled ‘Son of Sam’, who wrote to the police in 1976 claiming that he felt on a different wavelength than everybody else-‘programmed to kill’. About the same time in Wichita, Kansas, the so-called ‘BTK Strangler’ killed a family of four and followed it up with more murders of women. ‘How many do I have to kill before I get my name in the paper or some national attention?’ he demanded in a letter to a local television station. There’s a sinister element of showmanship in each of these cases. Unwise to draw conclusions from so small a sample, especially as two of them were never identified.
I’ve been through all the data I have on serial killers and I’ve yet to find any who actually named their victims in advance. This must be arrogance without precedent. Can it mean, I keep asking myself, that the Mariner is really only a bluffer? I’d like to answer yes, only my gut feeling is that he’s deadly serious. Many of these people I’ve been reading about were pathological liars, but their statements can’t be dismissed when they amount to boasts. This man is too self-centred, too full of his own importance, to bluff about the one thing he’s getting attention for. He has published his agenda and I fear he’ll carry it out unless he is stopped in time.
The police are looking for links between the victim, Summers, and the ‘targets’, Porter and Walpurgis, in the hope that this will lead them to the killer. I wish them luck, but I fear they may be wasting their time. These are media people, never out of public attention. There will be parties two or more of them attended, charities they supported, journalists who interviewed each of them. What matters is their link to the Mariner, if any.