expect everything .’
Chapter 5
It was another of those mid-September nights that left you in no doubt autumn had arrived. Darkness came early, and with the darkness an unseasonal chill. The trees were still in plumage, but strengthening winds rattled their dank branches, whipping their leaves, sending black, cavorting shadows along rain-damp city streets.
Heck saw none of this as he drove his white Citroën DS4 into the personnel car park at New Scotland Yard. He’d travelled all the way from Sunderland that afternoon without taking a break: nearly two hundred and fifty miles.
Sallow-faced and unshaved, wearing jeans, trainers and a sweatshirt, he made his way upstairs to the Serial Crimes Unit offices, which, as he’d expected at nine o’clock in the evening, were largely unmanned.
The first person he met was DCI Ben Kane, who, having recently been promoted from DI, was now second-in-command at SCU. While overall boss, DSU Gemma Piper, was engaged on other matters, he was currently running all day-to-day operations, including the delegation and supervision of routine assignments. He was a squat, bespectacled forty-year-old, whose sensible short hair, tweed jacket and chequered bow-tie gave him a nerdish air. Heck had always regarded Kane sceptically, thinking he seemed more like a teacher than a senior investigator in one of the Yard’s frontline units – his unofficial nickname in SCU was ‘Schoolmaster Ben’ – but on the upside, as deputy-gaffer, Kane’s role here was now mainly administrative, which meant he’d be out of their hair a lot more.
Kane was closing up his briefcase when he spotted Heck approaching along the central corridor. He regarded him quizzically. ‘You back already?’
Heck shrugged. ‘Cooper’s on remand, guv, awaiting trial … all my arrest papers are in. Job done.’
‘Yeah, I’ve read the file. Not your most straightforward arrest.’
‘No … got there in the end, though.’
‘This lad, Jerry Farthing. You’ll be on the witness stand with him. He up to it?’
In his arrest report, Heck had downplayed PC Farthing’s loss of control on the day in question, but there’d been no way to hide the Sunderland bobby’s ineptitude when it came to the cat-and-mouse game they’d been forced to play with Ernest Cooper, not to mention the actual arrest.
Heck shrugged again. ‘He’s a bit of a headcase, if I’m honest. Not sure he’s long for this job. But I’ve had a couple of sessions with him … to get the facts straight. Think he’ll be okay.’
Kane shoved his briefcase under his arm. ‘Do you always have to do things the hard way?’ It wasn’t as harsh a question as it sounded. Kane seemed genuinely fascinated to know.
‘We pull them in any way we can, guv. You know that.’
‘Well … Northumbria are happy. These are the results we want, I suppose. Well done.’
Kane nodded and continued down the corridor to the lifts. Heck slouched on through the department. One or two individuals were around, finishing paperwork, waiting on phone calls and such, but the Detectives’ Office, or ‘DO’ as SCU members preferred to call it, was deserted.
He humped his sports bag, currently stuffed with miscellaneous toiletries and unwashed clothing, over to his desk, dumped it in the aisle and slumped into his swivel chair, which, having moulded itself neatly to his buttocks over so many years, was such a relief that it induced an audible sigh.
Heck stretched, switched on his anglepoise lamp, then unlocked one of his lower drawers and rummaged through the bric-a-brac for the half-full bottle of Chivas Regal he usually kept in there . Grabbing a mug from the tea-making table behind, he was about to pour himself a couple of fingers when he noticed Gemma Piper leaning in the doorway.
‘Ma’am …’ he said, making to stand up.
Gemma gestured for him to sit. She looked as tired as he felt, which was not her normal form. Her top two buttons were undone, her sleeves
Chapter 5
It was another of those mid-September nights that left you in no doubt autumn had arrived. Darkness came early, and with the darkness an unseasonal chill. The trees were still in plumage, but strengthening winds rattled their dank branches, whipping their leaves, sending black, cavorting shadows along rain-damp city streets.
Heck saw none of this as he drove his white Citroën DS4 into the personnel car park at New Scotland Yard. He’d travelled all the way from Sunderland that afternoon without taking a break: nearly two hundred and fifty miles.
Sallow-faced and unshaved, wearing jeans, trainers and a sweatshirt, he made his way upstairs to the Serial Crimes Unit offices, which, as he’d expected at nine o’clock in the evening, were largely unmanned.
The first person he met was DCI Ben Kane, who, having recently been promoted from DI, was now second-in-command at SCU. While overall boss, DSU Gemma Piper, was engaged on other matters, he was currently running all day-to-day operations, including the delegation and supervision of routine assignments. He was a squat, bespectacled forty-year-old, whose sensible short hair, tweed jacket and chequered bow-tie gave him a nerdish air. Heck had always regarded Kane sceptically, thinking he seemed more like a teacher than a senior investigator in one of the Yard’s frontline units – his unofficial nickname in SCU was ‘Schoolmaster Ben’ – but on the upside, as deputy-gaffer, Kane’s role here was now mainly administrative, which meant he’d be out of their hair a lot more.
Kane was closing up his briefcase when he spotted Heck approaching along the central corridor. He regarded him quizzically. ‘You back already?’
Heck shrugged. ‘Cooper’s on remand, guv, awaiting trial … all my arrest papers are in. Job done.’
‘Yeah, I’ve read the file. Not your most straightforward arrest.’
‘No … got there in the end, though.’
‘This lad, Jerry Farthing. You’ll be on the witness stand with him. He up to it?’
In his arrest report, Heck had downplayed PC Farthing’s loss of control on the day in question, but there’d been no way to hide the Sunderland bobby’s ineptitude when it came to the cat-and-mouse game they’d been forced to play with Ernest Cooper, not to mention the actual arrest.
Heck shrugged again. ‘He’s a bit of a headcase, if I’m honest. Not sure he’s long for this job. But I’ve had a couple of sessions with him … to get the facts straight. Think he’ll be okay.’
Kane shoved his briefcase under his arm. ‘Do you always have to do things the hard way?’ It wasn’t as harsh a question as it sounded. Kane seemed genuinely fascinated to know.
‘We pull them in any way we can, guv. You know that.’
‘Well … Northumbria are happy. These are the results we want, I suppose. Well done.’
Kane nodded and continued down the corridor to the lifts. Heck slouched on through the department. One or two individuals were around, finishing paperwork, waiting on phone calls and such, but the Detectives’ Office, or ‘DO’ as SCU members preferred to call it, was deserted.
He humped his sports bag, currently stuffed with miscellaneous toiletries and unwashed clothing, over to his desk, dumped it in the aisle and slumped into his swivel chair, which, having moulded itself neatly to his buttocks over so many years, was such a relief that it induced an audible sigh.
Heck stretched, switched on his anglepoise lamp, then unlocked one of his lower drawers and rummaged through the bric-a-brac for the half-full bottle of Chivas Regal he usually kept in there . Grabbing a mug from the tea-making table behind, he was about to pour himself a couple of fingers when he noticed Gemma Piper leaning in the doorway.
‘Ma’am …’ he said, making to stand up.
Gemma gestured for him to sit. She looked as tired as he felt, which was not her normal form. Her top two buttons were undone, her sleeves
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