Off the Rails

∨ Off the Rails ∧

34

Surveillance

Early on Friday morning, London was buffeted by storm-winds from the east bringing ever darker threats of rain. Two days now remained before the Unit had to present its caseload closed and ready for official review.

Meera stood outside the Tottenham Court Road coffee shop and watched as, on the other side of the glass, Nikos Nicolau consumed yet another breakfast, this time a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich. So far he had searched three locations for discount computer software, purchased a new cell phone and stopped at three different coffee shops. While he ate, he fired up the new phone and discarded its packaging on the floor. He seemed to shed litter wherever he moved. At least he was totally absorbed by his tasks and took no notice of his surroundings. That made him easier to follow.

Meera was bored and cold. Usually she could find a way to enjoy surveillance, but Nicolau was an uninteresting subject, and she had not dressed warmly enough. In between snacks, the student wandered mesmerised around the software shelves. He seemed in no hurry to get to class, or anywhere else for that matter. The only other stop he’d made was at the Karma Bar, where he cupped his hands over the window and peered inside, looking for someone.

She huddled down in the doorway next to the Mac World store, and waited for him to finish stuffing himself. Nikos did not look like he was capable of murdering anyone, but he was certainly on some kind of mission. Every now and again he extracted a pen from his top pocket and scribbled urgent notes on a scrap of paper. He had screwed up the first pages and shoved them in his jacket pocket.

Nicolau wiped his mouth and rose to leave, stepping out of the detritus he had created as if shucking off an old skin. Meera raised her collar and dropped back into the shadows as he passed. Boring and obnoxious, she decided, but not a killer. Even so, the intense look she caught on his face as he passed disturbed her.

♦

Further up the road, Rajan Sangeeta threaded himself quickly and nervously through the morning crowds. He had attended an early lecture on ‘Light-Density Retail Building; Creating Urban Downtowns’, before heading for the British Library. But he had then stopped dead in the middle of the deserted library square to take a phone call. Colin Bimsley, who had been following a few paces behind him, was brought up short and had to hastily divert behind a tree; being inconspicuous had never been his strong point. He tried to listen as he passed, but caught only a few words: “It just feels wrong…more careful in future.” Taken out of context, the phrases sounded sinister. He strained to hear, but a garbage truck was drawing up outside the library gates and drowned out the rest of the conversation.

Sangeeta headed for the library coffee shop and worked on his laptop, but there were flickers of anger within him. At one point he suddenly shut his eyes and pressed a palm across them, as if to try and relieve a pain he knew he could not control. Bimsley ordered a coffee and settled himself, knowing he was in for a long wait.

♦

Longbright’s shoulder was sore, but the dense padding of her jacket had prevented the skewer from penetrating more than a couple of centimetres. She had cleansed and swabbed the small wound, and was now staking out Theo Fontvieille. He, too, had attended the ‘Urban Downtowns’ lecture – Longbright had spotted Bimsley outside the college – but he had left early and was standing on the corner of Gower Street and Torrington Place, obviously waiting to meet someone.

She wasn’t surprised when Ruby Cates turned up. After all, the pair were sharing a house. But the lingering kiss that followed changed the nature of their relationship, and sent Longbright’s thoughts in a new direction. Everyone assumed that the killer was a man, but suppose Ruby had told Matthew Hillingdon she was breaking up with him? What if he had taken it badly and threatened her? What if she had needed to get rid of his attentions?

Theo was smiling, holding her eyes with his. Ruby didn’t exactly seem to be in mourning for her missing lover. They talked, and as Longbright watched from the doorway of the Japanese restaurant opposite, she sensed something else, an anxiety that darted across Theo’s face. It seemed he had said something Ruby felt strongly about, because now they were sniping at each other, and this quickly turned into a full-blown argument.

Suddenly, Ruby Cates didn’t seem so friendly and helpful. She looked downright lethal.

It was raining hard, but neither of them seemed to notice. Ruby stabbed her finger at Theo, who tried to laugh off her anger, and now he was asking her to please come back as she stormed off along the pavement with damp shoulders and furiously dark eyes.

Longbright was about to go after Theo when she saw Dan Banbury in the next doorway, from where he had been watching Ruby Cates. “What was all that about?” he asked, coming over.

“I’ve no idea. Has she been dating both of them? Quick, go after her, you’ll lose her.”

Banbury chased after Ruby Cates, and Longbright headed off into Bloomsbury behind Theo Fontvieille.

♦

Meanwhile, Sergeant Jack Renfield was running surveillance on Toby Brooke. The problem was that Toby knew he was being followed. Renfield had no idea how he knew. He’d been careful, keeping well back as Brooke headed to the UCL canteen, drank tea, exited and searched the Gower Street Waterstone’s bookshop, emerging with a textbook in a plastic bag. But Brooke knew he was there all right. He caught sight of the sergeant in several store windows, and even seemed to be waiting for him.

When the rain started falling harder, Toby unfurled a rainbow-coloured golfing umbrella and continued on in the direction of the house in Mecklenburgh Square. But when the traffic lights changed between them and Renfield briefly lost him, Brooke waited for the sergeant to catch up. At the gates of Bloomsbury Square he seemed to be toying with the idea of actually coming back to talk.

I’ll make it easier for him, thought Renfield, cutting off the corner of the square and beating Brooke to the fountain at the centre of the park. He stopped in Toby’s path, bringing them both to a halt.

“Hi,” said Toby awkwardly. “You’ve been following me for over an hour. Aren’t you soaked?”

“Part of the job,” replied Renfield. “How did you know I was behind you?”

“I just had a feeling. So, what happens now?”

“Yeah, that’s a bit of a problem, my cover being blown,” Renfield admitted. “I used to be better when I was still on the beat. Desk copper, y’see, you lose the practise.”

“Matthew,” said Toby suddenly, his face changing oddly.

“Mr Hillingdon, yes.” Renfield knew the detectives had found the boy’s body beneath the Thameslink station, but was aware that the other students had not yet been told. He wondered if he should raise the subject. Better to let Toby speak first; he looked as if he had something to get off his chest. Renfield waited. The rain lashed at them both. Toby finally broke.

“I’m not – safe.”

“What do you mean?”

The young man looked up into the dark sky, and for a moment Renfield was sure he was fighting back tears. “I’ve had to hide things. I can’t control myself. I know it’s nobody’s fault but my own. I’ll deal with it, okay – but it has nothing to do with any of you.”

He turned and ran off, dashing through the puddles on the path. Moments later he had turned a corner and there were only wet trees and veils of falling rain.

How the rain fell.

♦

Looking out across the garden square, the dripping plane trees, the buckling plumes of the wind-battered fountain, the few passers-by fighting to control their umbrellas, it was easy to think I hate this city and everything it’s driven me to. The fear had begun as a small but insistent pain, gnawing and nagging like an ulcer, but it had grown each day and now consumed every waking hour.

They’re watching us, and if anything else breaks now the game will be up. I have to be stronger than I’ve ever been before. This will soon be over.

It was like a cracked pipe that was leaking under pressure, and the more the crack grew, the more attention it drew to itself. You had to treat it like any other emergency, seal it off, mend it quietly and invisibly, then get as far away as possible. There was still a chance to do that, wasn’t there?

The nightmare that had begun on Monday afternoon seemed as if it would never end. It made you want to screw up your eyes and scream with the pain of it all. How much could you age in a single week?

The cliché is true: Money really is the root of all evil. If I hadn’t been so broke and desperate for cash, if I hadn’t needed status and respect so badly, none of this would ever have happened. It’s my own fault, all of it, and now I have to grow some balls and see it through.

The thought of more violence to come was sickening, but it was too late to turn back.

One more day should do it. I can still get out of this in one piece. Stupid of me to give the game away like that. Sometimes I don’t think clearly – that’s when I behave like an idiot. I can cover the damage, but I have to stay ahead of the others and keep my nerve.

Some children splashed past on the path, shrieking and howling, without a care in the world. This time next week I’ll be like that, said the voice inside. I’ll be laughing about what a nightmare it all seemed. I just have to get through the next twenty-four hours.

Even though it means killing again.