Chris Simms - Savage Moon

'Boss.'

Jeremy Hobson put on a pair of latex gloves then opened the fridge marked Not for human use . All the shelves had been removed to make room for a large plastic crate. Hobson picked it up and placed it on a cutting board next to a metal sink.

He peeled back greaseproof paper to reveal a pile of dead chickens, their claws poked out at awkward angles, necks and feathers bent to the side. After extricating the uppermost bird, he dropped its partially plucked carcass on to the cutting board. As he reached for a serrated knife sticking to the magnetic strip above the sink he looked into the adjoining office.

A young man was standing in front of a TV monitor, flicking between the views from various cameras mounted within the panther enclosure. 'Martin, isn't it?' Hobson asked.

The youth didn't look round. ''S right.'

'I asked you to put those carrots in the water vole runs. Could you do it please?'

'Yeah.'

Shaking his head, Hobson pierced the bird's stomach, then drew the blade up to its breast. Placing the knife to the side, he reached in and tugged out the animal's entrails before dropping them into the washing up bowl in the sink. Then he removed a cleaver from the collection of butcher's implements and brought it down on the bird's neck. After sweeping the decapitated head into the washing up bowl, he rotated the bird, then brought the cleaver down again, chopping it in half. He repeated the procedure with the next bird, then looked down. Lined up on the concrete floor were three stainless steel buckets. He dropped the four chicken halves in to the first bucket.

After dividing up the remaining birds and placing them in the other buckets he reached for a pot of powder on the windowsill.

The label said Vionate, vitamin mineral supplement . He dusted the contents of each bucket in a layer of yellowish powder.

Next he lifted up the bowl of innards and stepped over to a large bin in the corner. On the wall above a laminated notice read, All bones and waste meat must be double bagged in heavy duty bin liners.

He tipped the bowl up and the chickens' innards slid with a wet plop into the bin. After peeling off his gloves, he dropped them into the bin too then replaced the lid.

'Right,' he said under his breath, surveying the row of buckets. 'Mweru and Mara first.' As he bent down to pick up two buckets, the young man spoke from the office.

'Can I help feed the panthers?'

Hobson straightened back up. 'Feeding the panthers is a privilege that is earned. Seeing as you haven't done anything I've asked of you, no, you can't. In fact, you haven't even earned the right to watch it on the CCTV. Now, if you don't start doing some work you can go back to the Silverdale. There's plenty of others there who'd jump at the chance of a work placement like this.'

By the time Jon and Rick got back to Longsight, most of the Outside Enquiry Team were waiting for them. Summerby was also there, looking isolated and uncomfortable in a seat by Jon's desk.

'Sir,' Jon shrugged off his jacket. 'This is DS Rick Saville. We worked together earlier this year. I've brought him in because he's in between rotations at Chester House.'

Summerby shook Rick's hand. 'Accelerated promotion scheme?'

'Yes sir.'

'What did you graduate in?'

'History and Law. Exeter University.'

Jon saw Summerby beam. Here we go, time for a bit of university banter. He busied himself with a file, irked by the fact he could never join in such talks.

'My eldest son went there. Veterinary science.'

'Couldn't lure him into the job then?'

'No, he prefers working with animals,' Summerby replied. Jon's chin went up. 'He could have got a posting in Salford.' Summerby gave a light hearted tut. 'So, what developments have we got?'

Jon turned to his In tray. As requested, Danny Gordon's record was there. It ran to several sheets. Jon's hand paused before picking it up. Was now the time to express his doubts over heading the investigation? But with the discovery of Danny Gordon's DNA, things had really started moving. His fingers hovered in mid-air. If I get into tracking Danny Gordon, I know the thrill of the hunt will be impossible to resist. But then again, how long can it take to find him? There's a limit to the number of stones he can hide under.

'Oh, by the way,' Summerby's voice was little more than a whisper. 'I had a meeting this lunchtime with the Chief. He's following the media coverage on this and was anxious to know what progress was being made. I fended off McCloughlin's concerns.'

Jon looked up. 'McCloughlin was in the meeting?'

'Yes, it was a status meeting on current workloads for the Major Incident Team. McCloughlin was loud and clear about having spare capacity now he's wrapped up the post office raids.' Jon felt a flash of irritation. The bastard wasn't getting a crumb. He picked up the print-out. A photo of a sallow-faced male was at the top, shaved head tilted back, mouth hanging slightly open in a poor attempt at a sneer. 'Seems King Asbo here was the mystery assailant of Derek Peterson. One Danny Gordon, born nineteenth of March nineteen eighty-one. Cautions for shoplifting from eighty-eight. Moved on to burglary and joyriding, did time in juve centres, including the Silverdale. Finally made it to his natural abode — eighteen months in Strangeways in ninety-eight for possession of heroin, another two years in two thousand for the same thing, in and out since then.'

'How have you placed him as Derek Peterson's assailant?'

'The witness to the attack finally came forward and described what happened. Initially Gordon came at Peterson without warning, wielding an iron bar. Peterson managed to disarm him, then proceeded to sexually assault Gordon with the weapon.'

'I beg your pardon?'

Jon nodded. 'You heard right. The witness saw Peterson put the weapon under his car seat before fleeing the scene. The CSM recovered it, swabbed it and found Gordon's DNA.'

Summerby regarded his fingernails for a few moments. 'The things people do. So, you're thinking Gordon caught up with Peterson again in the car park at Crime Lake?'

'Only this time he didn't take any chances with his choice of weapon,' Rick added.

'Why was he after Peterson in the first place?'

'Gordon was in the Silverdale facility at the same time Peterson worked there,' answered Jon. 'From videos we recovered from his house, Peterson had a liking for younger men. And a record for gross indecency. My guess is he was abusing the kids at the care home while he had access to them.'

'And his motivation for killing Rose Sutton?'

Jon felt his lips tighten. 'I don't know. But it's just a matter of time before we find the link to both victims, I'm sure.'

'When are we bringing this Danny Gordon character in?' Jon dropped the print out on his desk. 'He's NFA. I'll contact his probation officer and put the word out, try the hostels, usual stuff.'

Summerby nodded. 'Anything interesting in Peterson's house?'

'Apart from the video collection, his computer. He was using a web site called Swinger's Haven to arrange his evening liaisons. Signing himself in as Mr P. There seem to be regular users of the site in this area. If Danny Gordon knew who Mr P was, he'd also know when and where Peterson was going to be on the nights he went out looking for sex.'

'Good work.' Summerby stood. 'I'll leave you to it.' Boosted by his senior officer's approval, Jon turned to the room. 'Listen up everyone. We have a prime suspect.' He'd just brought the team up to speed when DC Murray walked in with a folder.

'You wanted to know about Danny Gordon?' he announced with a grin.

Jon waved him forwards. 'We're all ears, mate.'