Crucified

Chapter 20

The station was unusually busy. Jack had arrived early to have breakfast in the canteen and hopefully catch Laura and check she was keeping her lips sealed. Today, the canteen queue seemed to go on forever as a large number of officers had been brought in for a major briefing in the boardroom. Apparently DI Armani and her team of probationary officers had gathered a lot of new information relating to gang members and their families over the weekend.

Jack had a memo left on his desk with a detailed report of the weekend’s results and instructions to familiarise himself with the contents. He’d only glanced at it before taking off his jacket and going to the canteen. Returning to the incident room, Jack saw Laura, looking very hungover, flicking through a similar memo.

‘Morning Laura, you look like you need a coffee.’

‘I’ve already had three and I’ve still got a terrible headache. I blame you, Jack.’

‘What is going on? All these extra uniforms in the canteen and a big briefing this morning.’

‘Things have been moving at quite a pace over the weekend. The probationers are knackered. They’ve been on rotation, 24-7.’

DI Armani, wearing a very smart tailored suit and carrying a stack of files, appeared at the door. ‘Five minutes before we kick off, everyone, please be prompt. We have a lot to discuss this morning.’ She headed in the direction of DCI Clarke’s office.

Jack was taken aback by the amount of information on display: photographs, addresses and other personal details and criminal record sheets took up three large whiteboards. Chairs had been arranged around the table, and more lined the walls. The room began to fill up. With a packet of paracetamol and a cup of coffee in her hand, Laura sat beside Jack.

‘My God, they have been busy,’ she said. ‘Glad it was my weekend off.’

Soon, the available chairs at the table had been taken, so the remaining uniformed officers had to stand against the wall. DI Armani entered, the door held open by DCI Clarke. She took off her jacket, putting the file on the table in front of her. She picked up a pointer stick as DCI Clarke took one of two reserved seats at the front of the room. She did not need to ask for everyone’s attention. The room had gone silent as soon as she entered.

‘Firstly, I would like to thank our terrific group of probationary detectives who worked the weekend to gain a good deal of valuable information about these two warring gangs that have dominated the area for far too long.’

Using her pointer stick, she indicated board one.

‘These are all the known members of the ZRDO gang, with photographs and, where possible, personal details and police records. These are the names of members still at school. The second board lists all the crew identified as belonging to LEPO. Again, you can see their details and records. We also have some undercover footage to show you from gang territories, occupied streets, fresh no-go areas including tags and coded graffiti warnings.’

Lastly, she moved to the third board. She stood, arms folded, with the pointer beneath her arm like a sergeant major. ‘These are the addresses and contact numbers for parents and families of as many gang members as we’re able to find. The names with a star denote single parents, and the ones with a black cross indicate family members incarcerated. As you can see, there are high levels of single parents and imprisonment, meaning parental control is going to be low.’

There were scattered murmurs of dissent, which Armani quickly dismissed: ‘Targeting gang members and making arrests is one thing, but if we’re going to have any chance of getting control of this situation in the long term, we need to get the families on board, working with us...’

Hands shot into the air as the officers started to voice their opinions. Jack exchanged a meaningful look with Laura and two other officers they worked with. What DI Armani was talking about felt like community outreach, not the sort of policing they were committed to, dealing with serious crimes.

The doors opened and a trolley with tea and coffee was wheeled into the room. Armani announced a five-minute break, grabbed her mobile and strode from the room. Jack waited for a couple of minutes then did the same. But he had no intention of returning. If asked, he would point out that someone of rank should be monitoring the incident room.

As Jack walked into the incident room, he immediately saw Armani. She looked as if she was about to ask him why he’d left the meeting but before she got a chance, the door banged open and Detective Sergeant Ed Burrows, an old hand who manned the intelligence cell on the ground floor, gestured urgently to her.

‘Yes?’

‘Mrs Barras has been taken to St Thomas’s, and they’ve made an arrest, Ma’am,’ he said, breathlessly.

She hurried over to him and conducted a whispered conversation.

‘Everything all right, Ma’am?’ Jack asked, approaching nearer so he could hear.

‘Yes, yes,’ she said dismissively.

‘This is my case,’ Jack said forcefully. ‘If George Barras has been arrested, I should be the one to interview him.’

Armani nodded for Burrows to leave, then closed the door, and turned to face Jack. She took a deep breath. ‘George has attacked Maria again. She’s been taken to St Thomas’s hospital and is in a critical state. He ran off, but a uniform quickly tracked him down. He’s now in custody at Fulham station.’

Jack was fuming at this wholly avoidable situation. ‘I warned you he was bloody dangerous. If you’d let me continue the investigation, I could have got Maria to change her mind, make a statement and press charges. George would have been in custody pending trial and none of this would have happened.’

She faced him angrily. ‘I made the decision I felt was right at the time, with the information available to me.’

Jack quickly changed his attitude. ‘I’m sorry. My tone was uncalled for, Ma’am. But let me go to the hospital and check on Maria. It’ll mean you can continue your briefing. I can catch up on everything on my return.’

She considered her options before nodding. ‘Yes, please do that. I will explain everything later.’

As she walked off down the corridor, Jack smiled to himself. An official visit to the hospital to see Maria would also give him the opportunity to check on the victim from the frame shop. As he grabbed his jacket from the back of his desk chair, Laura walked in, prizing open a pack of aspirin, popping two in her mouth and grimacing as she forced them down.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

‘That domestic I was looking into. The victim has been assaulted again, and Armani wants me to deal with it, so I’m not going back to the briefing room.’

Before Laura could ask anything else, he was out of the incident room and hurtling down the stairs to talk to Burrows. He learnt that the police had been called to the Barras house by social services, who were there to speak with Mrs Barras. As they knocked on the front door, George Barras ran out of the back door like a crazy man. They found his wife unconscious on the kitchen floor.

‘She’s in a bad way, Jack,’ Burrows said. ‘He used a fucking claw hammer on her this time.’

‘And Fulham station called us?’

‘Yeah. They wanted to talk to DI Armani. And only her.’

Jack thanked Burrows, then headed out. Burrows called out to him as he went. ‘Put your foot down, Jack. It’s a bad one.’

Jack took the unmarked CID car, turning on the sirens and concealed blue lights as he left the yard. Arriving at St Thomas’s threequarters of an hour later, he found a parking space and left the Met Police logbook on the dashboard to avoid getting a ticket. He went to the main hospital reception area, showed his ID and explained his urgent reason for being there. It was a few moments while the receptionist conferred with two others working on the desk. They located Maria Barras in the intensive care unit in a new building away from the main hospital. He was handed a red plastic lanyard and told he could take a shortcut by exiting and going through the staff-only entrance on the right-hand-side of the hospital.

Jack made his way along a narrow pathway and then turned into the entrance to the newly built section housing the ICU wings. He went down a long corridor, following the arrows, until he got to a midway cubicle manned by two nurses checking TV monitors. Jack identified himself again.

‘The patient you’re making enquiries about is being prepared for surgery,’ one of the nurses told him. ‘I’m afraid I am unable to give you any further detail.’

Jack tried to mask his frustration. ‘Is there an area I could wait until the surgeon can speak to me?’

‘Yes, we have a private visitors room. A duty nurse can take your details and give you information when there is an update. It may be quite a while as the team is only just preparing for surgery. Go down this corridor and take the third door on your right.’

Jack followed her directions, passing several white-coated doctors and nurses who paid him no attention. He stopped by a large glass-fronted map of the ICU with directions to theatres, private wards and the visitors’ waiting room. Reaching the waiting room, Jack found a young man sitting in the corner reading a medical journal. Jack sat down. After a couple of minutes a nurse opened the door.

‘Miles, you’re wanted in X-ray. Like now.’ The man dropped his journal and darted off.

‘Things a bit hectic?’ Jack asked with a smile.

The nurse nodded. ‘We’ve got a lot of extra security around terminal one at the moment.’ She glanced down at her beeper, then hurried out herself. Jack stood in the empty room for a couple of minutes, then made his way back to the map. If terminal one had extra security, it was a good bet that’s where the frame shop victim was.

Jack studied the map for a moment, then took off at a brisk pace down the length of the corridor, turning into a large mushroom-shaped area. There were banks of monitor screens lined up on the desk, but to his relief, nobody was around. He was about to go round the desk and have a peek at the monitors when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He whipped around.

‘Jesus Christ.’

A burly uniformed officer was grinning at him. ‘It’s Ralph, Ralph Jordan. We were on a training course together a while ago. What are you doing here?’

‘I went to the loo and couldn’t find the way back. There’s a woman I need to interview but she’s in surgery.’

‘Come on in,’ Ralph said, opening a door to the right of the desk. ‘We’ve got decent coffee in here.’ Jack hesitated for a second, not wanting to appear too eager. As Jack entered the room, Ralph introduced everyone. ‘I’m relieving Tommy, and that’s DS Collingwood. This is DS Jack Warr. We were on a Met training course years back. He’s here on another case.’

The men nodded their hellos as Tommy put on his jacket. Ralph went to a table laden with sandwiches and two percolators and offered Jack a coffee, which he gladly accepted. ‘See you tonight,’ Ralph said to Tommy as he started to walk out.

‘Maybe you won’t. Word is he’s failing fast and you know the rules, Ralph.’ Tommy glanced to Jack, who he obviously thought shouldn’t have been allowed into their waiting area. Ralph waved his hand dismissively as he handed Jack his coffee.

‘I needed this, thanks. So, why are you lot here?’ Jack sat in one of the easy armchairs and looked at the bank of monitors lining one wall. Most of the screens were blank, but on one he could see doctors and nurses surrounding a bed, with a lot of complicated looking equipment around it.

‘It’s that bloke found in Portobello Road,’ Collingwood said. ‘We’ve been on round the clock since he was brought in.’

‘Oh yeah. I think I heard something about that,’ Jack said, taking a sip of his coffee.

‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Collingwood continued. ‘He was stripped naked, nailed to a bloody great cross, his face shattered. Knife wounds to his chest, punctured lungs.’

‘Who is he?’ Jack asked.

‘Dunno. There were no clothes, identifying items or fingerprints. His palms and fingers had been scraped raw, and there were no teeth because they’d been hammered out. His jaw was hanging loose.’

‘It’s a wonder he’s still alive,’ Jack said.

Collingwood sighed and got up to refill his coffee. ‘The only thing working, and it has to be bloody strong, is his heart. He’s in an induced coma; can’t breathe by himself. The machines are pumping day and night.’

‘Bet you’re chomping at the bit to talk to him.’

‘Shit yeah. For now, it’s a sterile room with only the surgeon and nursing staff allowed access to him... You were on that Rodney Middleton case, weren’t you?’ Collingwood asked, stirring his coffee. The question took Jack by surprise. ‘I was at the trial, waiting to go into another court. You were very impressive, and I’m not telling tales out of school, but we could do with someone like you heading up this one.’

‘Thanks. Who is running the investigation by the way?’

‘DCI Mark Morrison. He’s running around like a headless chicken because we’ve got fuck all after almost a week. We had a nasty piece of work brought in who appeared to be running the shop. At first, he said he wasn’t the owner, then admitted he was. The shop mostly sells junk; old picture frames, that sort of shit. We had him in custody for twenty-four hours, but he’s got a solid enough alibi.’

‘Had the shop been broken into?’ Jack asked.

‘The rear door was left open, which is how he was found. Another stall owner found him... poor woman.’

‘What’s the guy’s alibi?’

‘He was in Southampton, shipping some frames out, and had missed a pick-up. So, he booked into a B&B for the night and got his girlfriend to meet him there. He was there the entire weekend.’

‘And he couldn’t help ID the victim? No identifying scars or tatts?’

‘Nope. And no face to show him either! We even tried to get a court artist to see if she could give us an impression, but she said it would be impossible. I mean, we could only show her photographs, obviously, but whoever beat the crap out of the poor guy made sure he couldn’t be identified.’

They fell silent as Jack drained his coffee and sat holding the empty cup. The monitor was still hiding the figure encased in the bed, and the nurses were standing in front of the camera.

‘Could I get a look at him?’ Jack asked.

‘Hell no. I told you, it’s a sterile unit. Any infection and he’s gone.’

Jack was thinking he might be able to identify the man based on height, weight and build. ‘What are the other monitors for?’

‘After the medics leave, we switch all monitors on. There’s a camera at the door, one showing the rest of the room, the patient. Anyone who comes and goes.’

‘How tall is he?’

Collingwood thought a moment. ‘I reckon five-ten maybe. I can tell you, he’s quite muscular, in good shape. I reckon he’d recently been abroad as well. He’s quite tanned.’

‘Age?’

‘Thirties. Forties. Hard to guess without the face.’

Jack hid his growing tension. The description could be Adam’s. ‘What about his hair?’

Collingwood looked over to Ralph. ‘See what I mean, real detective we got here. I mean, have you heard Morrison asking about any of this? If he did, it’s not in the notes. Shoulder-length, dark blond, at least it was before they shaved it all off for the operations.’

‘The reason I’m asking is that I reckon you could put out a request for information; you’ve got quite a good description, even without his face.’

‘It’s on standby, but we have checked the missing persons reports. Nothing relevant. We’ll check with Interpol next.’

Although Jack knew that Adam was at least six feet tall, the hair colour and his suntan matched. Collingwood suddenly stood up, gesturing to the screens which now showed the medics moving away from the patient’s bedside.

‘What would be your next port of call, Jack? You can see more of him now.’ Jack stood next to Collingwood as the three other screens now showed the same room. There was a cage over the lower part of the man’s body, breathing tubes attached to his mouth, but most disconcerting were the number of wires and steel rods coming from his chin, cheeks and jaw. All designed to keep his facial features in place and all covered with a fine mesh that hid his entire face and skull. But now that Jack could see the man’s toned physique for himself, his instinct was that it wasn’t Adam Border. Relief filled his body and he physically relaxed.

Jack now acted like a police officer, answering the question Collingwood has just asked. ‘Somebody wanted to inflict the utmost pain on this guy, before making sure he was unidentifiable This assault took time. So, there’s real hatred there. Your victim would have known he was going to die. He’s defied the odds, perhaps by being found earlier than the killer predicted. Also, I reckon this attack could have taken more than one person.’

Collingwood looked to Ralph, gesturing for him to stand up. ‘He was about two feet off the ground, ankles crossed and chained, the chain hammered into the wood. His arms were splayed out... spread your arms, Ralph, that’s it... wrists bound and chained. His head was held up by another heavier chain that went round to the back of the cross, and there was a big iron ring hooked up onto what we think was some kind of stand for a heavy shelf.’

Ralph stood, arms stretched wide before he lowered them and, like Collingwood, he looked to Jack for his opinion.

‘That would all take a lot of time, hours. And I definitely think it could have been two people; lifting and attaching your victim wouldn’t be easy. I’d have fought like hell even if they had a gun on me. Then the place was cleaned up. Again, that takes time. Was there a substantial amount of blood?’

Collingwood nodded. ‘Oh yes. We’ve questioned the neighbours, but a lot of the properties are used as business storage for the market, not many residents live in them, and to date, we’ve not had anyone come forward saying they heard or saw anything. I reckon we should have had a press release days ago.’

‘I agree.’ There was just a fraction of a second when Jack thought about mentioning his visits to the shop, but Collingwood looked at his watch interrupting Jack’s chain of thought.

‘I’m going to kick you out, Jack,’ Collingwood said. ‘We’ve got DCI Morrison coming in for an update. God forbid he finds out I’ve been spilling the beans to you. I trust you won’t let on that I have. He’s hard enough to work with without any further aggravation. Just in case you bump into each other, what are you doing here?’

‘Questioning a woman who’s been attacked by her husband with a claw hammer. She’s been in theatre since I arrived. I was in the visitors’ waiting room, needed to take a slash, and this place is like a rabbit warren. The next minute, Ralph slapped me on the shoulder and said he’d seen me wandering around on the CCTV monitors.’

Collingwood laughed. ‘Yeah, this place they call the new build is already outdated and understaffed. At one point, they were going to move our patient to another ICU unit, but we needed to have this area to monitor his progress. Good to meet you, Jack. See you around. Ralph, walk him back to the visitors’ section.’

Ralph took Jack back to where he had entered the mushroom-shaped section, now manned by numerous staff. As he headed down the almost familiar corridor, it was already after 2 p.m., but he didn’t mind as his day had been more fruitful than he expected. He sat in one chair and drew another over to rest his feet on. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he once again thought that the victim was not Adam Border. That horrific sight of the victim clinging to life was shocking, but now Jack had to consider that, if it wasn’t Adam... Jack swung his legs to the floor and rested his head in his hands. ‘Shit, shit’.

He remembered what Helga had said about Adam, that Jack had no concept of what he could do and that he was very vengeful. Jack also recalled her saying that Adam had many helpers; he would have used these people to clear his studio in the school. Jack needed to learn who these people were.

But Jack was really getting palpitations remembering what Helga had overheard Adam shouting to someone on the phone.

‘I’ll crucify you!’