the idea about that these little men are anything special? This one – old Slaughter Man – was illiterate, as I recall. Couldn’t even read and write.’
I was still studying the clipping.
‘Nawkins got a life sentence with a minimum tariff of twenty years before parole could be considered,’ I said. ‘Is that all? Seems a bit of a slap on the wrist for four murders.’
‘Mitigating factors, weren’t there?’ John said. ‘Nawkins’ IQ level was lower than his shoe size. Possibly not his fault. He never had much formal education – him being a Romany and all. He was seventeen years old – just about. Over eighteen, they would have hit him a hell of a lot harder. And he didn’t bring the weapon with him. The murders were not premeditated – at least, that’s what his brief got the judge to believe. He was a young simpleton who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Until he killed four men.’
‘So Nawkins was a gypsy …’
‘Came from a long line of colourful travelling folk.’
‘Sentenced to a minimum tariff of twenty years in 1980. Is he out? Is he still alive?’
‘No idea. You’ll have to ask HOLMES. You don’t like him for this Highgate turnout, do you?’
I shrugged. ‘Same MO.’
‘But Nawkins didn’t steal a child, did he?
‘No, he didn’t.’
‘And the killings he did – they were
personal
. Farmer Burns didn’t like his only daughter going out with a gypsy. Made her break it off. I mean, Nawkins was a murdering scumbag, no doubt about it. But he was a murdering scumbag with a genuine grievance.’
‘We’re just looking for leads. I know murders happen with cattle guns, but not often enough for us to discount someone like Nawkins. Was this the weapon he used?’
John nodded. He picked it up.
‘It’s a cordless, gas-powered captive bolt tool. You get a thousand stuns out of one gas canister, so it gives you plenty of firepower. Primary use is on-farm culling.’
He handed the cattle gun to me. It felt strange in my hand. Somewhere between a tool and a weapon.
‘How does it work?’
‘It’s not complicated. A pointed bolt is fired into the skull by pressurised air. It destroys the animal’s brain but keeps its heart beating. This is the older, meaner type – the penetrating stunner. These days they use a non-penetrating stunner with a mushroom-shaped tip. Causes concussion rather than brain damage. Less effective, but brain matter doesn’t enter the bloodstream the way it does with this type here, so there’s less risk of contamination with mad cow disease. What did they use in Highgate?’
‘No idea. But they made a mess. How easy is it to use?’
‘Easier to kill a man than stun a cow. And you need contact pressure to activate the thing. You can’t shoot anything with it unless you’ve got it pressed right in there. So – if you’re stunning a cow or topping your girlfriend’s dear old dad – you have to stick it right against the flesh and bone, or it doesn’t fire. You’re meant to shoot down at a 45-degree angle to penetrate the brain with enough concussive impact to produce instant unconsciousness. But that’s with pigs and cattle. I imagine you don’t have to be quite so fussy when you’re killing human beings.’
‘Why kill anyone with a cattle gun? Why not just stab them? Or shoot them?’
He shrugged. ‘As a general rule, the amateur kills with whatever’s handy.’
I was looking at the face of Peter Nawkins. Seventeen in 1980. He would be a middle-aged man now, if he was still alive. He was a big, good-looking lad before he went inside. I wondered what twenty years of hard time had done to his looks.
I took a step back, still hefting the cattle gun in my hand, struggling to believe that it could be used to wipe out a family. I was in a corner of the Black Museum that I had never noticed before. Apart from the Slaughter Man, most of the exhibits in the dusty corner seemed to date from the founding of the Black Museum in 1875.
There was a
I was still studying the clipping.
‘Nawkins got a life sentence with a minimum tariff of twenty years before parole could be considered,’ I said. ‘Is that all? Seems a bit of a slap on the wrist for four murders.’
‘Mitigating factors, weren’t there?’ John said. ‘Nawkins’ IQ level was lower than his shoe size. Possibly not his fault. He never had much formal education – him being a Romany and all. He was seventeen years old – just about. Over eighteen, they would have hit him a hell of a lot harder. And he didn’t bring the weapon with him. The murders were not premeditated – at least, that’s what his brief got the judge to believe. He was a young simpleton who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Until he killed four men.’
‘So Nawkins was a gypsy …’
‘Came from a long line of colourful travelling folk.’
‘Sentenced to a minimum tariff of twenty years in 1980. Is he out? Is he still alive?’
‘No idea. You’ll have to ask HOLMES. You don’t like him for this Highgate turnout, do you?’
I shrugged. ‘Same MO.’
‘But Nawkins didn’t steal a child, did he?
‘No, he didn’t.’
‘And the killings he did – they were
personal
. Farmer Burns didn’t like his only daughter going out with a gypsy. Made her break it off. I mean, Nawkins was a murdering scumbag, no doubt about it. But he was a murdering scumbag with a genuine grievance.’
‘We’re just looking for leads. I know murders happen with cattle guns, but not often enough for us to discount someone like Nawkins. Was this the weapon he used?’
John nodded. He picked it up.
‘It’s a cordless, gas-powered captive bolt tool. You get a thousand stuns out of one gas canister, so it gives you plenty of firepower. Primary use is on-farm culling.’
He handed the cattle gun to me. It felt strange in my hand. Somewhere between a tool and a weapon.
‘How does it work?’
‘It’s not complicated. A pointed bolt is fired into the skull by pressurised air. It destroys the animal’s brain but keeps its heart beating. This is the older, meaner type – the penetrating stunner. These days they use a non-penetrating stunner with a mushroom-shaped tip. Causes concussion rather than brain damage. Less effective, but brain matter doesn’t enter the bloodstream the way it does with this type here, so there’s less risk of contamination with mad cow disease. What did they use in Highgate?’
‘No idea. But they made a mess. How easy is it to use?’
‘Easier to kill a man than stun a cow. And you need contact pressure to activate the thing. You can’t shoot anything with it unless you’ve got it pressed right in there. So – if you’re stunning a cow or topping your girlfriend’s dear old dad – you have to stick it right against the flesh and bone, or it doesn’t fire. You’re meant to shoot down at a 45-degree angle to penetrate the brain with enough concussive impact to produce instant unconsciousness. But that’s with pigs and cattle. I imagine you don’t have to be quite so fussy when you’re killing human beings.’
‘Why kill anyone with a cattle gun? Why not just stab them? Or shoot them?’
He shrugged. ‘As a general rule, the amateur kills with whatever’s handy.’
I was looking at the face of Peter Nawkins. Seventeen in 1980. He would be a middle-aged man now, if he was still alive. He was a big, good-looking lad before he went inside. I wondered what twenty years of hard time had done to his looks.
I took a step back, still hefting the cattle gun in my hand, struggling to believe that it could be used to wipe out a family. I was in a corner of the Black Museum that I had never noticed before. Apart from the Slaughter Man, most of the exhibits in the dusty corner seemed to date from the founding of the Black Museum in 1875.
There was a
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