Clean Cut

Chapter Fifteen

Rashid Burry’s photograph, pinned on the board, now had a red cross over his face. He had been garrotted, the thin cord still left around his neck, and had been dead for around forty-eight hours. They would have to wait for further information until the post mortem and the forensic examination of the Range Rover were complete but, as everyone gathered for an update, there was a much more positive feel.

Langton appeared, refreshed and energized, as he gave the details of the discovery. He then discussed his interaction with the voodoo doctors; he made them laugh, with some funny stories about the cranks and timewasters he’d had to interview. He then moved on to the one meeting he felt might have been beneficial.

‘Okay, we have a doctor calling himself Elmore Salaam — whether that’s his real name or not, who knows? He has a pretty substantial practice in the East End, with certificates plastered all over the waiting room. He has worked in Haiti and Jamaica, and is originally from New Orleans. He’s married to a woman called Esme, who acts as his receptionist and nurse; she is the one who shepherds his patients in to see him. He works on what appears to be a mostly cash basis, but it looked legit; he assured me that he pays his taxes, and I believe him. He looks the business: long white robe, heavy crucifix and a lot of gold rings, but I noticed he had pretty expensive loafers on underneath! He was very eloquent and gave me a long diatribe about his work as a healer. His patients are often suffering from anxiety and simple afflictions, for which he prescribes herbal remedies.’

Langton paused to sip his coffee before he continued. ‘To get him on to voodoo took some time, as he was at pains to explain that it was not his practice; that said, he is an authority on its rituals and has written a number of paperbacks.’

Langton held up a few thin volumes that looked as if they had been printed off his own computer.

‘He was very serious, explaining that some of his patients have been scared rigid. Many of the people who come to him are illiterate, and it takes many sessions using his knowledge of psychology — in which he has a degree — to calm them into understanding that whatever curses or hexes have been put on them can be eradicated.’

Harry Blunt stifled a yawn. Anna knew that he didn’t believe in any of that crap and would be impatient to know where it was all leading, but just then, Grace Ballagio joined Langton.

‘Okay, whilst the Gov was getting the info from the doctor, I spent some time with Esme. She was not very forthcoming to start with, but opened up when I did a bit of Pinocchio, saying my aunt lived in New Orleans and that, unlike my boss,’ she grinned at Langton, ‘I was a believer.’

Grace continued, explaining that they were interrupted every so often by patients with their so-called prescriptions, so Esme was kept busy, measuring out powders and counting out pills by hand in a small anteroom, which gave Grace the opportunity to have a quiet look around. There was a desk with a diary and a chart, with a list of names. When Esme returned, Grace asked her about this, as she would be very interested in learning about her husband’s work. Esme told her that she would have to talk to the doctor himself, as this was a private practice.

‘I tried to get her to open up and explain what the private practice was. She was very edgy and said that she didn’t approve, but running the practice cost money, and some of the patients didn’t have any, so they did what they had to do.’

Langton placed his hand on Grace’s shoulder. ‘Doctor Salaam is a voodoo practitioner: he teaches it to specially chosen students and does not — and he took great care to emphasize this — does not go into the “darkness”. That’s his word, by the way.’

Grace continued. ‘The students obviously pay a lot of money. I asked if Esme could give me names, but she refused. I then changed the subject and asked her if she had something for a migraine. She went into the anteroom, so I nipped back to the diary — but she caught me and snatched it back.’

Langton took over again. ‘This was the moment I came out of Elmore’s office. His wife said something to him, in I dunno what language, and the friendly priest-cum-doctor-cum-psychiatrist got very nasty. He accused us of being there on false pretences. I had to show my ID again, calm him down, but he was very unpleasant. I got a bit heavy about how he was running his business, but said I didn’t want to cause trouble: I was there because I needed his help.’

At this point, Harry Blunt got up and walked across the incident room. Langton glared at him. ‘Where you going?’

‘I need to take a leak. To be honest, Gov, I dunno where all this is leading, but you’ve taken a hell of a long time to get to the point.’

‘Sit the fuck down!’ Langton snapped. He stared around the room. ‘Anyone else think this is a load of shite? I am going into the details of what went on for a fucking reason. You want to hear it or not? Right now, we’re still flailing around like arseholes. You want to carry on taking a piss, Harry, go do it — and don’t come back.’

‘For Chrissakes, Gov, it’s eleven o’clock. I’m up to my ears in coffee.’

Langton ignored him, then crossed to the board and slapped the name Camorra with the flat of his hand. ‘This bastard has been paying Elmore for years. He’s obsessed, to such an extent that the doctor started to get uneasy. The only thing the fucker was interested in was the “darkness”, for want of a better word.’

Anna sat straight-backed; she couldn’t believe it. Langton had not even mentioned this to her. Brandon and Lewis shot covert glances at each other; they, too, had been left in the ‘darkness’!

The incident room fell silent.

‘Camorra gave them a false address and numerous mobile phone numbers; he changes them frequently, almost weekly. He had sessions with Elmore until his wife said he should not continue: the bastard scared the shit out them, culminating when he brought in a shrunken head and two claws. A child’s hands! You want to take a piss now, Harry?’

Harry sat down, sheepishly.

‘We need Doctor Salaam, because the one lead we might have is the Krasiniqe kid in Parkhurst who believes he’s got a hex on him and is dying. Okay, Harry, if I continue?’

‘I’m sorry, Gov.’

Langton outlined the arrangements for Dr Salaam to come in and discuss what he could or could not do to help Eamon Krasiniqe. Time was running out; the boy was dying, so it had been arranged for Elmore to come in and talk to them that same afternoon. They would then make the journey to Parkhurst.

It was after twelve when the briefing ended. Langton had slammed into his office, leaving everyone taken aback. There was quite a lot of ill-feeling from the team, especially Anna, who felt that she should have been informed. She was also somewhat jealous that Grace appeared to have taken her place beside Langton: it was obvious that he no longer wanted her as his sidekick.

At one o’clock, Rashid Burry’s post-mortem results came in. He had been injected with a horse tranquillizer, so when he was garrotted he had been unable to move a single one of his massive muscles to save himself. The forensic reports from the search of the Range Rover were also coming, but in dribs and drabs. So far, they had discovered a great number of dog hairs in the rear of the Range Rover, possibly from a longhaired breed, like a German shepherd. The hairs had been sent to a different lab to be tested by an expert in canine DNA. They had found saliva and blood inside the black plastic bags that covered Rashid’s body, which were being matched with his DNA. The bags were also being matched to the bag containing the dead boy in the canal, since each roll of bags would have distinctive markings.

They had also found blood and hair in the right-hand rear seat. This was being tested as a match for Carly Ann North. The steering wheel and dashboard had been wiped clean, but fingerprints were being recovered from the rear door and the passenger door. More hair and fibres were found in the front passenger seat, plus mud on the carpet. They were also testing mud from the wheels and the chassis. The teams were working flat out and they hadn’t even removed the seats or carpet yet.

Langton read down the list from the forensic report. At long last, the case felt as if it was moving, albeit in many directions. These developments renewed his energy and he hoped that Dr Salaam could move them on a stage further; the Camorra connection had spurred him on and he was getting to feel like his old self, adrenalin buzzing. They still had not been able to trace the property in Peckham linked to Camorra; Langton surmised he had long gone and taken up residence elsewhere.

Early that afternoon, there were further press conferences and interviews, at which the police asked if anyone had seen the Range Rover parked up and, yet again, requested information from the public in connection with Joseph Sickert and Gail’s missing children.

The team had been given various tasks, but the main focus of the day was the arrival of Elmore Salaam, to discuss how they would approach Eamon Krasiniqe. They were getting regular bulletins in from the prison authorities: the young man was fading fast. He had been transferred to the hospital wing and was in isolation. The usual medical staff had been overseeing his progress and had called in various different specialists, in an attempt to keep him alive. Sick as he was, he was still able to rip out any attempt to feed him intravenously. They had put him in an oxygen tent, as his breathing had become laboured. According to the prison doctor, he still lifted his right hand to point to the opposite wall and make a slow circular movement, but even these gestures had become less frequent, as he was so weak. Krasiniqe just lay with his expressionless eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

Anna had been given the assignment of contacting Missing Persons, in case they had any information regarding the children. It was a time-consuming and depressing job; the number of young children missing was heartbreaking. Many of them had been kidnapped by one parent or the other and taken abroad; others had simply disappeared. Seventy per cent of the children were of ethnic origin and aged between two and eight years old. She was also in contact with immigration, getting lists of children who had been brought into the country under new legislation that allowed family members residing in the UK to act as guardians. There had already been a shocking case of a little girl shipped to a so-called aunt and uncle, and subsequently found brutally abused by both. The child was dead and the adults were now in prison. Anna skimmed the reports to see if any of the social workers had come into contact with Camorra. He was known to be a trafficker, so there was a glimmer of grim hope that perhaps one of these missing children had been part of his vicious trade.

Langton walked out of his office; he motioned to Anna and Grace. ‘The doctor and his wife are on their way. I don’t want them brought through the incident room; we’ll use an interview room. I will need the photographs of the Krasiniqe brothers, medical reports from the prison and so on.’

Grace moved off; he remained by Anna’s desk and looked at the mound of paperwork she was dealing with.

‘Anything?’

‘No, not yet. It makes very depressing reading.’

He nodded and went over to Harry Blunt, who had returned from trying to gather information on Rashid Burry.

Harry wafted his sandwich towards Langton. ‘The fucker was only claiming benefits. Gave the same address we had for him at the halfway hostel — bloody unbelievable. We have this bastard’s face plastered over the newspapers, in every police station, and he just walks in and picks up his fucking benefits!’

Langton sighed; sometimes Harry’s tirades irritated him, but he had to agree with him on this one. ‘What you got?’

Harry opened his notebook. ‘Last seen Wednesday at the hostel. Social worker — and she was fucking brain dead not to contact us — says he gave her this bullshit about starting work on a building site. She gave him the benefit slips, and asked for a forwarding address; by rights, he was no longer under a probation order, but somewhere ticking in her brain was the fact that we had been there half a dozen times asking about him. Anyway, he gives her a load of bullshit and walks out. She called the local cops to say he had been there; according to them, they were in the process of contacting us! She also said — and this I could believe — that he scared her; one of the reasons she didn’t want to get into a confrontation with him was that he was built like a brick shithouse.’

Harry thumbed through his notebook and bit into his sandwich. ‘There was a kid there with probation order and tag — probably have that cut off in a few days — anyway, I’m asking around if anyone saw the hulk Rashid, and this boy—’

‘How old is he?’ Langton interrupted.

‘Sixteen: done for aggravated burglary and threatening a police officer — got two years and out on probation for six months.’

Langton gestured for Harry to continue.

‘Rashid asks the boy if he wants some extra cash; kid said he was up for anything and Rashid gives him this mobile number.’ Harry passed over a Post-it note. ‘We’ve been trying to track it down, but it’s another pay-as-you-go bugger, so we might not get much luck; it was over two weeks ago.’

Langton asked whether, when Rashid’s body was found, they had also found a mobile.

‘Nope, pockets stripped, nothing on him; surprised they left his gold teeth.’

Langton sighed. ‘Okay, keep on pushing.’ As he turned away, Grace informed him that the doctor and his wife had arrived.

‘I’d like to sit in on that one,’ Harry said, his mouth full of the last of his sandwich.

Langton smiled and walked out of the incident room, gesturing to Anna to join him.

She was on the telephone and signalled for Langton to wait. ‘I’ve got something,’ she mouthed.

‘Can’t it wait?’ he snapped.

‘No, it can’t.’ She had to take a deep breath. ‘Two children have just been dumped at a playground in Tooting. Teacher said a black guy was seen at the gates, holding the kids by the hand; then he walked off. They’re white — and their ages match those of Gail Sickert’s missing children.’

‘Jesus Christ, get over there!’ He then stopped, frowning. ‘No, I need you in with me.’ He nodded over to Harry. ‘Give him the details, then come into the interview room.’

Anna returned to the caller. ‘Have they been able to give their names?’ She listened, then said, ‘Someone is coming over there straight away.’

It took a while longer for Anna to take further details, before she was able to send Harry to pick up a Family Liaison Officer to accompany him to the Tooting nursery school.

‘Fingers crossed, Harry, we might have found Gail Sickert’s kids, but neither is talking and both seem traumatized. Pick them up and arrange for a counsellor. You know what to do.’

Harry nodded and sat down to make sure he had all the details as Anna hurried to join Langton, Dr Elmore and his wife Esme.

Anna was taken aback by the stature and appearance of the doctor. He was way over six feet tall and wore an immaculate charcoal grey-suit. His wife Esme was in traditional African wraparound skirt and flowing loose top, with a matching cotton turban. They were a quiet and unassuming couple, with excellent manners. The doctor waited for Anna to sit down, helping her move the chair closer to the table, before he sat down opposite her. Esme did not meet her eyes, but kept her head bowed and her hands folded in her lap.

Langton had already described in detail the murder of Arthur Murphy and the resulting condition of Eamon Krasiniqe. He said that the boy had refused food and was now in isolation, with an oxygen tent helping him breathe.

Anna said nothing as she opened her notebook, listening to Langton.

He explained how Anna had subsequently interviewed Idris Krasiniqe, the sick boy’s brother. Dr Salaam asked her to give as much detail about Idris as possible — how he had behaved towards her, and whether she had any more information about the boys’ backgrounds. Both were illegal immigrants, she told him; the police were not even sure if their names were real, as they had come into the UK on fake passports.

‘Are they twins?’ was his next question.

Anna looked to Langton, and they both shrugged; not according to their passports.

Langton continued, moving on to the murder of Carly Ann North. Dr Salaam made no further interruptions. He occasionally glanced at his wife, but she never raised her eyes. Langton went on to outline the death of Gail Sickert and her small child; even though there was now a possibility the other two children might have been found, he implied that they were dead, or being used as sex objects. Esme looked up at the details of the children, then turned away, shaking her head. Langton kept his voice low; in the bare room, the silences when he paused hung in the air. Anna watched him draw on the emotion and aim it especially at Esme.

Langton showed the children’s photographs, placing each one down slowly. Elmore Salaam took out a case and put on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. Next Langton brought out the hideous mortuary shots of Gail Sickert’s body and the skull of her dead child, followed by the photographs of Carly Ann. Lastly, he opened the envelope containing pictures of the torso of the dead boy found in the canal.

‘We believe that all these murders have a link to Camorra. We have also just discovered this man, Rashid Burry. His body was found in the rear of a white Range Rover. He had been garrotted and stuffed into black plastic bin-liners; the vehicle was to be crushed.’

Elmore peered very closely at Rashid Burry’s photograph; his wife, by now, was sitting well back in her chair, her head averted from the appalling array of death laid out on the table.

Langton gave a small nod to Anna.

‘Doctor Salaam, Mrs Salaam,’ she began, ‘we are very much in need of someone to help with the boy Eamon Krasiniqe. If we are able to save him, his brother Idris has promised me that he will give us information. We believe that both the brothers were involved with Camorra, but Idris is too afraid to speak to us. He is in prison for the murder of Carly Ann North. He admitted the murder, and when first arrested he—’

Langton interrupted her. ‘He gave us two names — men he said were part of the murder — but we were unable to trace them.’

Anna looked at him. He made no mention of his attack and, by interrupting her, made sure she did not bring it up either.

‘Idris pleaded guilty to the murder, but retracted his statement,’ she went on. ‘He said no one else was involved, and that he alone committed the rape and attempted mutilation of her body. We have two samples of DNA taken from her body, so we know Idris was not the only man who raped her or had sex with her before she died.’ Anna looked nervously at Langton, wondering if he wanted her to give even these details.

Amongst the array of mortuary shots and pictures of Gail Sickert’s children was the computer e-fit of Joseph Sickert. Dr Salaam, who, unlike his wife, had shown no emotion, pointed to it, and Langton passed it to him. He stared at it, then turned to his wife. Side by side, the couple gave the picture their full attention, then placed it down on the table in front of them.

‘Do you recognize this man?’ Langton asked.

The doctor gave a slow nod of his head, and his wife seemed to agree.

‘I think it is the same man,’ he said. ‘He came to see us about ten months ago. He was very sick, suffering from a blood disease. It was advanced: his eyes were yellow with kidney infection. Esme said she was certain he had sickle cell anaemia, but we would require blood tests. We arranged for another appointment and gave him some herbal remedies to help his condition.’

Esme spoke up. ‘We do not have the facilities to carry out blood tests; that would have had to be done at the local hospital, as with any medical practice. With advanced sickle disease, if not given the correct medication, the organs begin to fail. This man was very sick.’

‘So what happened?’

Esme looked to her husband. ‘He never kept his appointment. He was also unable to pay for the treatment. We never saw him again.’

Dr Salaam placed the e-fit picture of Joseph Sickert to one side, almost on the edge of the table away from all the other photographs. He then drew forwards Rashid Burry’s picture. ‘This man brought him to my surgery — the man found in the car; he was very unpleasant and threatened my wife. He said that he would pay for the treatment. Correct?’ He turned to Esme and she nodded.

‘Was he a regular patient? I mean, did he bring other people to your surgery?’ Langton asked, hardly able to contain himself. Rashid Burry’s photograph had been plastered all over the newspapers and on television crime shows, along with Joseph Sickert’s, and yet here were this couple, calmly identifying them.

‘No, he did not. As I said, he was very unpleasant and threatened my wife. I told him he was not welcome to come to my place of work again and that if he did, I would call the police.’

‘So you were never paid?’ Anna asked Esme.

The woman glanced at her husband, her eyes half-closed; she had the faintest of smiles on her full lips. ‘Yes — yes, he did pay. Some patients we do not even ask for money; others, especially men like that one, do eventually pay — sometimes a lot more than we have asked.’

Dr Salaam reached out to gently cover his wife’s hand, as if warning her to keep silent. He then picked up Gail Sickert’s photograph.

‘I do not know this sad woman.’

He left that photograph in front of him; next, he took the picture of the headless corpse of the little boy and placed it on top of Rashid Burry. The child’s skull he moved aside, as if not interested. He collected Idris and Eamon’s mug shots and stacked them on top of the Rashid Burry picture. Lastly, he passed the picture of Carly Ann North to Esme, who looked at it very carefully and nodded as he added it to the pile.

Langton and Anna watched in fascination, no idea what he was doing or why, as Dr Salaam then placed his hands gently on top of the stack and bent his head. His deep voice was even lower.

‘They are connected,’ he said.

Langton waited and glanced at Anna, who sat staring at the massive man’s beautiful hands spread over the pictures. Grace, who had not said one word throughout, but sat silently listening to everything, was as nonplussed. The three of them were unsure what to say next.

‘We will need protection,’ Elmore Salaam murmured. He then sat bolt upright, picked up the mug shot of Clinton Camorra and placed it to one side.

‘The link between these souls is this man. His real name, I believe, is Emmerick Camorra. He uses many aliases, but the name by which he is known to me is Emmerick Camorra. If I help you with this tortured boy Krasiniqe, if it is known that my wife and I are involved, we will be targeted by Camorra. He has an army of crazed, dependent soldiers. They will do anything he asks, and if it is to cut my throat, rape and murder my beloved wife, they will do it. If we agree to see this Krasiniqe boy, it must be kept secret; if it isn’t, then we cannot help you. Remove him from the prison, remove his brother to somewhere safe, and we will attempt to help you; if this cannot be done, then we cannot place ourselves at risk.’

Langton was speechless. He half-rose out of his seat and then sat down again. ‘Doctor Salaam, I assure you that I will arrange round-the-clock protection for you and your wife. We have been unable to track down Camorra, but if you could help us and assist—’

Elmore Salaam leaned over the table. His voice boomed. ‘I do not think you have any understanding of how dangerous this man is. I do, because he learned from me; but then he became obsessed, and not with the good. Camorra has embraced the devil and worships Satan; he uses terror and threats to naive innocent souls who believe that he is a high priest.’

Salaam eased himself away from the table and walked to the far wall. He pointed, just as they had seen Krasiniqe do. ‘This is someone controlling time; when they stop, you die. This boy is trying to keep the hours to live. If he can no longer lift his hand, the finger of death has stopped his heart.’

Esme quietly rose from her chair and went to her husband’s side. For the first time, they could see that he was close to weeping. She held his hand, and it seemed to soothe him.

‘We have to go now,’ she said.

Langton remained sitting, staring over the table covered in photographs, while Grace took the doctor and his wife out. They refused to leave in an unmarked patrol car, but had chosen a circuitous route of trains, buses and taxis, afraid lest anyone should find out about the police interview.

Anna began to gather up the photographs. She felt really shaken. ‘What do you think?’ she asked Langton.

He yawned and stretched his arms above his head. ‘What I think is, why the fuck didn’t they come forward before? We’re months into an enquiry. Don’t they read the fucking newspapers?’ He mimicked the doctor. ‘Oh, this is Joseph Sickert, he came as a patient.’ He banged the table. ‘We’ve been hunting that bastard for fucking weeks: he’s been on the front page of all the papers, on the TV news, on TV crime shows. Oh, and yes, we’ve got the wrong name for the bastard. They call him Emmerick not Clinton.’ Langton held up the mug shot of the man they knew as Clinton Camorra. ‘And they fucking know him! Taught him his sicko voodoo shit! Yet God forbid they know where he is now. It makes me wanna strangle the pair of them. This bastard Camorra’s gonna do my fucking head in. That’s what I think.’

‘Well, maybe they were scared.’

Langton picked up the dead boy’s photograph. ‘Tell that to this little child, his head and hands cut off; don’t give me that shit about them being scared. That bastard has been shipping in Christ knows how many kids, and they’ve been doing their crap stuff out of their make-believe surgery with all those bullshit credentials.’

‘What about giving them protection?’ Anna asked.

‘Oh, they’ll get it; it’ll look like we’ve got Bin Laden under fucking wraps! My budget’s already through the bloody roof.’

The door opened midway through his tirade. It was Grace.

‘Harry just called in. We have found Gail Sickert’s children.’

Langton’s reaction surprised Anna: he put his hand over his face and almost wept. ‘Oh, thank Christ!’