The Art of Murder

Chapter 50

Brick Lane, Stepney, Thursday 29 January, 2.05p.m. 'Jack, this is the first breakthrough we've had.'

Pendragon listened to Superintendent Hughes's enthusiastic tone dispassionately. He was on his mobile hands-free in the car, heading back to the station.

'You don't seem very upbeat about it,' she commented.

'Well, I'm not. If Hickle is as clever as everyone thinks he is, he'll be a long way from here by now. He has almost three hours lead on us. He and his accomplice must have everything well planned.'

'Okay, we can't get into a time machine. But I've already got top-level support on this. I'll put road blocks in place. Close the ports. Get ID to the airport authorities. I'll even shut down the airports if I have to!'

Five minutes later, Jack was pulling the car into one of the bays outside the station, and forty-five seconds after that he was in Hughes's office.

'A team are due to arrive at Hickle's flat any moment now,' the superintendent said. 'I'm sure he won't be there but we have a warrant to search the place, see what nasty secrets the man's hiding.'

'They won't find anything.'

'Probably not.'

'What about Chrissy Chapman's place?'

'Grant and Vickers are on their way.'

'What do we do?'

'We wait.' Pendragon forced himself to deal with the pile of paperwork that had been steadily building up all week, but he was finding it almost impossible to focus. Then the first of a succession of calls came in. It was from the team at Hickle's flat. The doctor was not there, and as predicted the flat had revealed nothing incriminating at all.

The second call was from Inspector Grant. They were driving away from Chrissy Chapman's place. Hickle was not there and the apartment was exactly how the police and cleaners had left it after Forensics, Pathology and the photography department had finished there the day before.

Pendragon had just looked at the clock displaying the time as 18.03 when the third call was patched through from the front desk.

'Inspector,' said Colette Newman.

'Interesting news, I hope, Doctor.'

'There were literally dozens of prints in the ICU, and a fair bit of DNA. I managed to get several good, clear prints of Hickle's as well as some skin flakes and hairs matching his DNA.'

'Well, that's all useful.'

'I guess so, but you realise, of course, that it doesn't mean that much. The doctor was often in the ICU. It would have been more unusual if there had been no trace of his DNA or prints there.'

'Yes, I realise that, Dr Newman. But every bit of evidence helps. Thanks for processing things so fast.'

There was a rap on the door. Pendragon could see Turner's familiar outline and the door opened immediately. 'Sergeant,' Pendragon said. 'You have a DVD in your hand.'

Turner held it up and waved it in the air. 'Took a lot of persuading, I can tell you.'

Pendragon followed the sergeant into the corridor and through the third door on the left, the Media Room. Turner flicked on a few machines and pulled a chair close to a pair of monitors on the desk. Pendragon sat back a little, watching the computer boot up and the video analyser go through its litany of sounds as it analysed the DVD. Turner found the part of the film he was after. 'I haven't seen it myself yet,' the sergeant began. 'They have a master control centre for all the cameras – there're seventeen of them inside the hospital and another fourteen on the outside of the building. The operator gave me all the films from nine until ten, along with the numbers of the cameras that we'd be interested in – three of them inside and one outside. I can programme the analyser to search just those films. Shall we start with the camera nearest the ICU, sir?' he asked, swivelling in his chair.

Pendragon nodded. 'Probably best.'

Turner's fingers skittered over the control panel in front of the two flat-screen monitors and an image appeared on the left hand. It was a shot of the corridor leading from the main building into the area around the ICU administration desk. People passed in and out of shot. First, a nurse, then a pair of doctors. A patient using a Zimmer frame took several minutes to walk along the stretch of corridor covered by the camera. The clock in the corner of the screen clicked on. At 9.08 an orderly in a green hospital one-piece suit and tight-fitting cap appeared, head down, moving quickly along the corridor. As the orderly reached the edge of the camera's field, they lifted a clipboard to obscure their face even more. Then they darted through a door.

The clock ticked along. At 9.14 the orderly emerged from the room, clipboard again held in front of their face. They walked back along the corridor, and at that precise moment the improvised bomb went off. There was a dull thud through the speakers, and on the screen Pendragon and Turner could see smoke billowing out of the door the orderly had left ajar. Several members of staff ran quickly towards the source of the explosion. The only person moving in the opposite direction was the orderly. Glancing around furtively, they stepped into the ICU.

The clock moved on. At 9.17, the figure emerged from the ICU, clipboard held in front of them. Turning right, they walked quickly along the corridor towards the camera, head down. It had been obvious from the moment the orderly had appeared that it was not Dr Geoff Hickle. The person on the screen was slightly built and at least six inches shorter than the man they had suspected.

'Stop there, Turner,' Pendragon said. 'So this must be his accomplice.'

'Reckon so, guv.'

'I need some time to think. You must have some paperwork to be getting on with.'

The sergeant nodded.

'And, Turner, can you switch off the lights as you go out?'