‘Unbelievable.’ Tony shook his head. ‘But even if the arm wasn’t obvious, how did he manage to fool everybody?’
Lambert groaned. ‘God knows. What I’m hearing is that the prisoner in question has a shaved head, glasses and distinctive tattoos on his arms and neck. All of which Vance had copied. Someone obviously brought in custom-made tattoo sleeves or transfers with the appropriate designs. The person most likely to realise it was the wrong man was the social worker, and she wasn’t in work today.’
Tony gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘Don’t tell me. Let me guess. Something completely unpredictable happened to her. Her boyfriend was kidnapped or her house blew up or something.’
‘I have no idea, Tony. All I know is that she wasn’t there, so in their infinite wisdom the officers sent him off in a taxi to his work placement. I’m told it’s standard operating procedure in cases like this. Don’t forget, the prisoners who get sent on these placements are on a trajectory towards release. It’s in their interests not to mess up.’
‘This is the most terrifying news I’ve heard in a long time, you know that? There’s going to be bodies, Piers.’ An involuntary shudder rippled across Tony’s shoulders. ‘How’s the taxi driver? Is he still alive?’
‘He has head injuries, but I’m told they’re not life-threatening.’ Lambert sounded dismissive. ‘What concerns me most is that we recapture Vance as swiftly as possible. And that’s where you come in.’
‘Me? I haven’t spoken to Vance since before his first trial. I’ve no idea where his head’s at these days. You’ve got a prison psych who apparently knew him well enough to put him in a Therapeutic Community – talk to her.’ Tony let out a sharp breath of exasperation.
‘We will, of course. But I have huge respect for your abilities, Tony. I was very much on the sidelines when you put a stop to Vance all those years ago, but I remember the impact your work had on the Home Office attitude towards profiling. I want to send you the files on Vance and I want you to provide us with as detailed an assessment as possible of what he’s likely to do and where he’s likely to go.’ Lambert had recovered his poise. His request had all the force of insistence without being obvious.
‘It’d be guesswork at best.’ When it came to the big beasts of officialdom, Tony knew better than to offer any shred of hope that could be used later as a stick to beat him with.
‘Your guesswork is better by far than the considered opinion of most of your colleagues.’
When all else fails, Tony thought, wheel out the flattery. ‘One thing I will say, even without the benefit of the files … ’
‘What’s that?’
‘I don’t know where Micky Morgan is these days, but you need to track her down and tell her Vance is on the loose. In Vance’s world view, she’ll still be his wife. It doesn’t matter that it was never a marriage in the first place, or that she had it annulled. As far as he’s concerned, she let him down. He doesn’t like being thwarted.’ Tony stopped pacing and leaned his forehead against the door. ‘As we all found out to our cost the last time. He’s a killer, Piers. Anyone who’s ever crossed him is at serious risk.’
There was a moment’s silence. When Lambert spoke again, there was a gentleness in his voice that Tony had never heard before. ‘Doesn’t that apply to you too, Tony? You and DCI Jordan? You’re the ones who brought him down. You and your team of baby profilers. If you think he’s going after the people he blames for his incarceration, surely you’re at the top of the list?’
It was a measure of Tony’s lack of narcissism that Lambert’s concern had genuinely not occurred to him. Years of clinical practice had taught him to bury his own vulnerability so deep he’d almost lost sight of it himself. And although he knew plenty about the chinks in Carol Jordan’s armour, he was so accustomed to thinking of her as her own worst enemy that he’d all but forgotten there were other threats out there, threats that could undermine her far more comprehensively than her own weaknesses. ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ he said now, shaking his head, not wanting to believe himself a possible target. Because once he admitted that, everything he did would be tainted and skewed by the fear of who Vance might destroy next.
‘I think you ought to be aware of the possibility,’ Lambert said. ‘I’ll have the files uploaded and send you the codes to access them. As soon as we hear anything from the police in North Yorkshire, I’ll be in touch.’
‘I never said—’
‘But you will, Tony. You know you will. We’ll talk soon.’
And he was gone. For a split second, Tony thought about phoning Carol. But news like this was always better delivered face-to-face. He grabbed his car keys and jacket and headed for the door. He was halfway to Bradfield Police HQ when he remembered he’d had his own reasons for talking to Piers Lambert. But even though he thought he truly believed that no individual life was worth more than another, he had to acknowledge that, when it came to it, saving Carol Jordan was always going to trump anything else.
It wasn’t an entirely comfortable conclusion, but it was inescapable.
11
Tony advanced into the room, his eyes fixed on Carol. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But I have to speak to you now. In private.’ Seeing how serious he was, Carol’s expression shifted from annoyed to perplexed. Tony had never cried wolf in all the years she’d known him. Whatever the issue was, this was clearly no frivolous interruption. ‘My office,’ she said, gesturing with her head towards the open door. Tony didn’t even break stride. Carol sighed and spread her hands wide in a gesture of helplessness towards her officers. Her team was well used to Tony’s eccentricities, but it was still infuriating to have him walk in as if he owned the place. And whatever happened in it. ‘As I said already: Kevin, talk to Suze Black’s flatmate. Take Paula with you, I think. Sam, talk to Dr Shatalov about a photo we can use to ID her. Chris, work with Stacey to get the whiteboards up to speed with the files. And don’t forget the tattooing machines.’ She glanced over her shoulder and saw Tony was already pacing. ‘I shall return,’ she said wearily.
Carol shut the office door behind her but didn’t bother to close the blinds. She wasn’t expecting the conversation to go anywhere that needed that kind of privacy. ‘This had better be good, Tony,’ she said, dropping heavily into her chair. ‘I’ve got three murders on the board. I don’t have time for anything less than life or death.’
Tony stopped pacing and leaned his hands on her desk, facing her. ‘I think this more than qualifies,’ he said. ‘Jacko Vance escaped from prison earlier this morning.’
Carol’s face blanked with shock. ‘What?’ It was an automatic response. Tony didn’t bother repeating himself. She stared at him for a long moment then said, ‘How could they let that happen?’
Tony made a dismissive noise. ‘Because Vance is smarter than anybody else in a Cat C prison.’
‘Cat C? How could he be in Cat C? He’s a convicted killer.’
‘And the perfect prisoner, according to the Home Office. He hasn’t put a foot out of place all the years he’s been inside. Or rather, he’s covered his tracks so well, that’s what it looks like.’ There was anger in his voice, but he couldn’t be bothered trying to suppress it. If he couldn’t show some emotion with Carol, then there was nowhere in his life he could open a door on what lay within. ‘Not only was he Cat C, he’s been on a Therapeutic Community Wing. Can you believe it? Free association, cells like hotel rooms, group therapy that he can stage-manage like the master manipulator he is.’ He pushed off from the desk and threw himself into a chair. ‘I could lay my head on your desk and weep.’