An elderly man at the front of the queue was having trouble hearing the desk clerk. This was his moment. He closed the gap between them and noticed a station guard clock him from the nearby ticket turnstile. He was no longer inconspicuous; he was a sizeable unit wearing black leathers and a jet black helmet. He came to within inches behind the female detective and quickly dug a blind-sided hand inside his pocket and pulled out a folded note, sliding it into her outer coat pocket without her noticing. He immediately turned and made against the flow of commuters.

  Foster sensed movement behind and turned around. She saw a mass of people waiting behind her to be served and other people coming and going, but she didn’t see Kershaw.

  Foster opened the door to her office and Chilcott and Chowdhury filed in behind. ‘Take a seat,’ she said as she pulled out the chair behind her desk and sat down, still dressed in the long navy blue anorak she’d travelled in.

  ‘The IOPC aren’t happy bunnies at all,’ Chowdhury said, taking a seat. His face was taut and stressed.

  ‘Well that’s just tough. I’ll handle them, don’t worry about that. I’m sure you managed to occupy them in my absence.’

  Chilcott smirked as he lowered his frame down next to Chowdhury.

  ‘They’ve now gone for the day; you’ll be pleased to hear. They’re staying in the Holiday Inn.’ He leaned across and handed the DCI a business card. ‘They said to call them on your return.’

  The DCI slid the card towards her and peered momentarily at it before tossing it to the side. ‘How did the press release go?’

  Chowdhury lifted his chin – exuding satisfaction. ‘It was fine. No problems, thank you.’

  ‘No tricky questions?’ Chilcott asked.

  ‘None, that I hadn’t already anticipated.’

  ‘Good,’ the DCI said. She looked at her watch, it was seventeen minutes to 6 p.m. ‘We can all watch you on the news shortly.’

  Chowdhury pursed his lips together and rolled his eyes towards Chilcott who gave him a Clint Eastwood-type narrow stare. Are you feeling lucky, Jaz?

  ‘Anything from Cardiff yet?’ Foster asked giving her DIs a once-over.

  ‘Nothing,’ Chowdhury replied.

  ‘What’s he doing? Do you think he’s aware of our operation?’ Foster asked.

  ‘Hard to tell, Ma’am,’ Chowdhury said.

  ‘Who knows, Julie,’ Chilcott countered his voice far more familiar and relaxed.

  Foster leaned back against the spring of her chair looked at them both individually and sighed despondently. ‘It’s about time you two sorted your shit out. We can’t afford to have you two scoring points off one another, or seeing who can piss the furthest up the urinal wall—’

  ‘We have individual stalls, not—’

  ‘I don’t give a toss what you have, Robbie. This nonsense between you ends right now.’

  ‘Probably sits down anyhow…’ Chilcott muttered beneath his breath.

  Chowdhury squirmed in his seat as anger built to bursting point.

  The DCI drove her hands deep into her pockets and glowered at Chilcott. ‘Don’t push me, Rob…’ She paused and looked down at her left hand, pulling out a folded envelope. ‘What’s this?’ She lifted the envelope in front of her eyes and lowered it onto the table in front of her. ‘Either of you know what this is?’

  They both shook their heads.

  ‘What is it?’ Chilcott asked.

  ‘A sealed envelope.’

  ‘Open it.’

  The DCI gave them both a suspicious glance and then slid her finger beneath the flap, removing a handwritten note: Don’t try to stop me. I can no longer be responsible for anyone getting in my way.

  ‘If this is some kind of sick fucking joke, Robbie—’

  ‘What? I don’t know what it is?’ he pleaded with open hands.

  She tossed the paper through the air in his general direction, the note flipping out of control before falling short onto the floor. ‘Right, I’ve just about had a gut full of your games, Robbie…’

  As she spoke, Chilcott picked the crumpled sheet from the floor and read it. He suddenly stood up. ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘Oh, come on. You can drop the act now. It’s really not funny and not the slightest bit—’

  ‘Seriously,’ he shouted taking Foster by surprise with his strong tone. ‘Where did you get this?’ His stare was fierce and Foster instantly knew that he wasn’t joking.

  Her face quickly melted and she rose up from her chair.

  ‘We need to get this to forensics,’ Chilcott said urgently. ‘It may have his DNA… and the envelope,’ he said pointing to the discarded standard white envelope crumpled up on the DCI’s desk. ‘Quick,’ he said to Chowdhury. ‘Get me some gloves and forensic bags.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Chowdhury said dismissively. ‘Like I’m gunna—’

  ‘Just get the fucking bag, Jaz,’ the DCI snapped.

  As Chowdhury scurried out of the door, Chilcott and Foster locked eyes.

  ‘He got close enough to you to plant this on you?’ Chilcott questioned aloud.

  Foster shook her head. ‘He couldn’t have. I can’t think of a moment when he’d have the chance. We were together the entire time.’

  ‘Shit!’ Chilcott spat. ‘He’s not in Cardiff… he was in Nottingham.’

  ‘His wife!’

  ‘Bollocks!’ Chilcott ran for the door. ‘I’ll get on to Nottingham CID.’

  Foster stood rigid staring down at the note. Chowdhury came back through the door wearing a pair of blue latex gloves, holding two clear evidence bags in front of him like a fresh out the box probie at his first drugs raid. ‘Where’s he going all in a hurry?’

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chilcott came back into the DCI’s office ten minutes later. ‘It’s okay, she’s fine and their daughter’s fine too,’ he reported.

  The DCI was sitting at her desk, arms tight in to her body like a naughty school girl waiting to be reprimanded by the head teacher.

  ‘They’ve got the house on overt surveillance – an armed response unit is parked right outside and detectives are speaking to Tina-Marie as we speak. He’d be mad to make an attempt to get inside,’ Chilcott continued.

  ‘She’s okay?’ Foster asked with a timid voice.

  ‘Teary, but holding up well, by all accounts. She’s obviously made of stern stuff.’ He narrowed his stare and noted the fear emanating from his boss. He’d never seen her this way before.

  ‘Hey, come on,’ he said squatting down beside her chair, placing his hand on her arm. ‘If he was going to hurt you, he’d have done it already.’

  ‘Oh, that makes me feel much better,’ she glowered.

  ‘You know what I mean, I’m sorry if it came out…’ he stopped talking, seeing her tears. He stood up slightly and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Come on, Julie,’ he said calmly. ‘We’ve got protection from the firearms unit. Kershaw can’t get to us.’

  ‘He got to you, Rob, and he’s got close enough to me to put something in my pocket without me knowing.’

  Her tear-ridden eyes didn’t lie. He had.

  The DCI looked distantly ahead. ‘How can we stop him?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, but we will.’

  ‘Will we? Do you really believe we can?’

  Chilcott didn’t answer.

  Foster pressed a hand to her forehead. ‘This changes everything. How can we be the protectors if he can get to us so easily?’ She searched Chilcott’s face. ‘How can one man cause so much disruption? Christ! This is now a national incident; it’s crossing constabulary boundaries, it’s the main news story across the channels! This has got far bigger than we can manage.’

  Chilcott stood up easing his knees that had been screaming in pain since he squat down next to her. ‘We need Chamberlain. We need his connections. We need the military to work with us,’ he said.

  Foster turned in her chair and stared out of the window into the darkness and the floodlit carpark below. ‘You’re asking for one of the most secretive military organisations to turn on one of their own, Robbie.’

  ‘One of their own who is targeting and killing his own people, Julie. I don’t imagine for one minute their loyalty stretches that far.’

  She didn’t answer and kept looking outside. ‘What if he is out there now? We’d never know. This is a living bloody nightmare.’

  The landline broke into life with a shrill ring making them both jump. Foster picked up the receiver and listened to the voice on the other end. She listened for a long moment and locked eyes with Chilcott as she rose from her seat. ‘Where?’ she asked. She broke away from Chilcott’s gaze and looked at her watch. ‘When?’

  ‘What is it?’

  Foster held a hand up to stop Chilcott interrupting. ‘Got contact details?’ She waited for the answer. ‘Good – email them through to me.’

  She gently lowered the receiver and perched herself down on the lip of the desk.

  Chilcott didn’t ask. He already knew what was coming.

  ‘Middleton’s dead.’

  ‘Portsmouth?’

  Foster nodded.

  ‘Argh!’ Chilcott groaned. ‘It’s like he’s everywhere at the same time. How did Middleton die?’

  ‘Garrotted.’

  Chilcott winced.

  ‘They had to peel the wire out of his neck.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Home address.’

  ‘We need to be smarter. This is turning into a disaster.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay?’ Chilcott repeated.

  ‘Let’s get Chamberlain back in. This has gone beyond our control. If we can’t think like Kershaw then we’ve no chance of capturing him, he’s just too damn slippery.’ She puffed out her cheeks in resignation. ‘I’ll get back on to Special Branch and see what they can do to assist.’

  ‘They may even view it as a terrorist crime and take it on, considering he’s targeting military operatives.’

  Foster inclined her head and stared back out of the window.

  Stephen Chamberlain followed Chilcott through to the main briefing room. He was still displaying the bruises from his confrontation with Brian Kershaw and wasn’t expecting to walk into a room filled to the brim with detectives, if he had, he may not have agreed to come. DCI Foster was stood front and centre and greeted him with a handshake and introduced Chamberlain to the assembled detectives.

  ‘We’ve brought you here, because we can’t do this without inside help,’ she said. ‘So far, we believe that Barry Kershaw is responsible for the murders of five people associated in some way to your old unit, including your daughter, Samantha. He’s a step ahead of everything we are doing, so we need to start thinking like him. You know him as well as anyone and you want him captured as much as we do.’

  Chamberlain wiped beneath his nose with the back of his thumb and looked at the faces of the officers staring intently his way. ‘And if I help you?’ he asked turning to Foster.

  ‘Then we’ll make sure the judge is fully aware of your invaluable cooperation in helping capture someone who is rapidly becoming one of the most wanted men in the United Kingdom,’ she replied stoutly.

  ‘And you’ll have the satisfaction of seeking justice… a lawful way,’ Chilcott added.

  Foster shot him a dumfounded look. If it wasn’t for Chilcott, they wouldn’t be in this God-awful mess in the first place.

  Chamberlain thought for a moment and then asked, ‘What do you need?’

  Chilcott answered. ‘We need you to put yourself in his shoes. Think like him. Act like him. Pre-empt his next moves.’ Chilcott shook his head. ‘We can’t. We don’t have your ability or skills to think like the Special Forces. You do.’

  Chamberlain bit his lip. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay,’ Chilcott repeated. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘On one condition,’ Chamberlain said standing taller.

  ‘Go on,’ Foster said.

  ‘I do it my way, without the shackles of the law.’

  ‘We can’t act above the law—’

  ‘Then you won’t catch him.’

  ‘We cannot and will not act in a manner that is above the law,’ Foster repeated in no uncertain terms.

  Chamberlain shrugged. ‘Then you’ve already lost.’

  ‘Show him the note,’ Chilcott said to Foster.

  She scratched the side of her face and looked at the collaboration of detectives. ‘After briefing,’ she said noticing the team reacting with interest to the news they so far hadn’t been privy to hearing.

  ‘Okay everyone,’ she said. ‘You’ve got your enquiries to continue with—’

  ‘Tell them,’ Chilcott spoke loudly over the top of her.

  Foster rubbed her face again.

  ‘Tell them. They all need to know.’

  Foster eyeballed Chilcott and then looked away. ‘I agree,’ she whispered. ‘But you tell them.’

  Chilcott cleared his throat. ‘Okay everyone, listen in hard. This is important. This is for your own safety.’ He glanced at his boss who was looking down at the floor. ‘As you know, my caravan was destroyed by fire earlier this week. We now suspect that Barry Kershaw was responsible and deliberately set it alight.’

  Murmurs and gasps of shock rippled through the seated detectives.

  ‘And today…’ he paused and checked on his boss again. ‘Barry Kershaw came close enough to DCI Foster to place a note inside her coat pocket. We simply didn’t know he was there.’

  Everyone stared in total horror at the update.

  ‘What did the note say?’ an officer in the audience asked.

  ‘It was a threat,’ Foster said finally looking up. ‘It was a threat to cause harm to anyone who got in his way.’

  ‘That means all of us then?’ the same detective said.

  ‘Yes it does,’ Chilcott said boldly. ‘All of you must take extra vigilant care. Change your routines at home, park somewhere different each night. It will be a pain in the arse, but until we get Kershaw in, we are potentially all in his way.’

  ‘He’s changed his mission,’ Chamberlain announced.

  Chilcott, Foster and the entire room hung on those words.

  ‘Meaning?’ Chilcott asked.

  ‘Your caravan. The note. He’s given warnings, but he won’t give them twice.’

  Chilcott felt unease building rapidly in the pit of his gut. ‘Explain, please,’ he asked.

  ‘Assuming no one else has received a note or some kind of sign, he’s going for the hierarchy. Cut the head off and the body will fall.’ He peered menacingly at the DCI and her DIs. ‘He’s got a second mission.’

  ‘Jaz,’ Chilcott said. ‘Anything unusual happened to you or your family?’

  ‘No,’ Chowdhury answered, his face displaying clear alarm.

  ‘Good. I think the best practice is to carry on as normal, but be aware.’

  ‘I’m going to speak to the ACC and escalate this with firearms,’ Foster said. ‘We need twenty-four hour protection when we’re outside of this building.’

  ‘He must be staying somewhere, has to be,’ Chowdhury said. ‘Find out where and we’ll have him.’

  ‘No,’ Chamberlain corrected the DI. ‘He’s accustomed to long missions deep behind enemy lines. He won’t need a base.’

  The detectives fixed their stares upon Chamberlain.

  ‘So what now?’ Chilcott asked him.

  ‘You’re trying to catch a professional killer,’ Chamberlain said. ‘And this one has fuck-all to lose – he’s already dead.’

  ‘Where do we start?’ Chilcott pressed.

  ‘You don’t. He’s in control.’

  ‘So how the bloody hell are we meant to stop him?’ a frustrated Foster bit back.

  ‘You change his mission.’

  ‘How exactly?’ Chilcott asked.

  ‘You become his main focus and draw him out.’

  ‘What?’ Foster said incredulously.

  ‘You’ll have more control of the situation by making yourselves the main targets. You’ve got firearms support, you can almost create the mission for him, that way you can prepare and react proactively.’

  None of the detectives spoke.

  ‘You’ve riled him. That’s a good thing. Use it to your advantage.’

  The DCI stepped back with a look of utter disgust. ‘Are you asking us to be his bait?’

  Chamberlain pouted. ‘I suppose I am.’

  ‘How,’ Chilcott asked.

  ‘Has his name been publicised yet?’

  ‘No. Not his.’

  ‘Do it. Expose him. He’s currently operating below the radar. Make it known that he’s still alive. Show his face to the public.’

  ‘Jaz,’ Chilcott said. ‘Can you get on that, buddy?’

  ‘Sure. I can write a press release and disseminate it wherever and whenever.’

  ‘Go national,’ Chamberlain said. ‘All news channels, TV, radio, daily rags.’

  ‘And then what?’ Foster asked.

  ‘We wait.’

  ‘Wait for what?’

  ‘For him to neutralise you.’

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Monday 2nd March

  The press release went out as planned and in time for the waking public to see Barry Kershaw’s name linked to the murders of the five victims around the country. DI Chowdhury had been provocative enough to tempt Kershaw into some kind of reaction. Just what, remained to be seen.

 

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