Peter James - Need You Dead

Grace filled him in on the history and the sensitive nature of the issue. Then he added, ‘It has always been my method of operating to include my whole team. We have a briefing scheduled for 6.30 p.m. I’d like you to view the footage before the briefing, and then I’ll introduce you to the team so you can educate them on what resources are available. We might have an unknown talent with Super Recognizer abilities on this team. But what I would appreciate is that if you are able to make a positive ID on DS Exton when you initially see the footage, that you don’t mention it to the team.’

Weatherley frowned. ‘It’s your call.’ He shot a glance at his watch.

‘I’ll make sure you’re on your way by 7 p.m. You’ll be in Battersea by 8.30 p.m latest.’

‘Do you have some images of this DS Exton for me to get familiar with?’

Grace showed him a photocopy of Exton’s warrant card, and a series of images of him from the internal CCTV at Malling House. Then he took him out into the corridor to the board on the wall where there were photographs, with their names beneath, of all the members of the Major Crime Branch, and pointed out Exton.

As he was standing there his phone rang. It was Ray Packham.

‘Roy, some good news. I think you’re going to like this.’

‘Tell me?’

‘It’s drying out well — I’m standing here like a twat, with a hair-dryer! But in the meantime I’ve got a result from tracing the serial number. The computer was bought from the Apple store in Churchill Square in Brighton last November 22nd — by Lorna Belling.’

‘Bloody hell, that is brilliant, Ray, well done.’

‘Thought you’d like that. I’ll call you as soon as it’s up and running.’

‘Brilliant.’

As Weatherley studied the photographs of the team on the board, Guy Batchelor walked along the corridor. ‘Boss, just wanted to check the time of this evening’s briefing.’ Then he hesitated, looking at the visitor.

‘Oh, Guy — this is Tim Weatherley, from the Super Recognizer unit.’ He turned to Weatherley. ‘DI Batchelor is the Deputy SIO on this case, Tim. Feel free to share anything with him.’

The two men shook hands. ‘Nice to meet you,’ Weatherley said.

‘Likewise. Thanks for coming down, we really appreciate it,’ Batchelor said. ‘I’ve heard great things about your unit.’

‘Feel free to spread the word! Not enough forces know about us yet.’ Weatherley smiled warmly.

‘Absolutely!’ Batchelor said.

‘We’ve a development,’ Grace informed him. ‘Ray Packham’s just called me, he’s identified the owner of the Apple MacBook Pro.’

‘He has?’

‘Lorna Belling.’

‘Bloody hell.’

‘This could be dynamite for us!’ Grace said enthusiastically. ‘He hopes to have it up and running tonight.’

‘Fantastic,’ Batchelor said, but he looked uneasy.

Grace felt uneasy too. The thought of seeing Exton brought down and imprisoned for murder was not something any of them relished, and Batchelor, despite his tough appearance, had a deeply sensitive and caring side that Grace had noticed often in the past.

‘As DS Weatherley has to get away by 7 p.m., I thought we’d bring the briefing forward. Could you tell everyone we’ll have it in fifteen minutes’ time.’

‘Yes, boss. I’ll get right on it.’

‘Good man.’

Grace led Weatherley back into his office, and left him alone to watch the footage, before joining him in the briefing.

At 6.20 p.m., minus Glenn Branson and Kevin Hall, who were down in Portsmouth with Jon Exton, Grace’s entire team was assembled in the conference room. He cut to the chase by introducing Tim Weatherley, who had just entered the room, and asking him to give a brief outline of the work of the Scotland Yard Super Recognizer Unit.

When he had finished, the Detective Superintendent said, ‘We’re now going to view one still from a camera in a fortuitously parked vehicle on Vallance Street, on the night of Wednesday, April 20th — the date that Lorna Belling died. The image is very blurry, partly because it is through a windscreen on a wet night, and partly because of the darkness—’

He was momentarily distracted by a ping from Velvet Wilde’s phone. Then he went on.

‘If any of you think you know the identity of the person in this image, who may or may not be the offender, let us know immediately. Let’s see if any of you have Super Recognizer abilities!’ He nodded at Weatherley and he switched on the projector.

All of them turned to look at the blurry image of a figure on the flat screen on the wall, who appeared to be carrying two rubbish bags.

‘I recognize him, chief,’ Norman Potting said.

‘Yes?’ Grace encouraged.

‘Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s Super Binman!’

There was laughter.

‘Thank you, Norman,’ Grace retorted, acidly. ‘Not terribly helpful.’

‘He would be in my neighbourhood, chief. With the bin strikes we’ve had.’

‘Norman!’ he cautioned.

‘Sorry, chief,’ Potting said, blowing on his new designer glasses and wiping them with one of his shirt fronts, exposing his flabby belly.

Grace looked at Weatherley. He seemed pensive.

‘Reminds me of Blackadder , chief,’ Norman Potting suddenly said.

‘ Blackadder? ’ Grace queried.

‘That bit when Rowan Atkinson says, “A blind man, in a dark room, looking for a black cat that isn’t there.”’

‘Your point being, Norman?’ EJ Boutwood asked.

‘My point is, young lady, that we’re being asked to identify Mr Blurry , when the only thing we can see clearly is a bin bag. Unless you’ve got better eyesight than me. Eh?’

Roy Grace looked at Weatherley. The Super Recognizer had a strange expression. As he caught the Detective Superintendent’s eye, he gave him a discreet glance. No one else in the room, other than Guy Batchelor who was looking intently at the man, could have spotted it.

With none of the team having anything useful to offer on the image, Grace ended the meeting, aware that Weatherley needed to get back to London.

He led the Super Recognizer back to his office, followed by Batchelor, and the three of them sat down.

‘So, tell us?’ Grace said.

Weatherley looked awkward. ‘I can tell you it’s not DS Exton. I’m afraid the images were not brilliant, as you said. If it’s OK with you I’d like to take them back to my office and see how much further we can enhance them.’

‘Yes, we can burn them on a disk or email them to you.’

Weatherley glanced at his watch. It was 6.45 p.m. ‘Email is fine and I’ll work on them first thing in the morning.’

‘Thanks, Tim, I really appreciate your help.’

Batchelor stood up. ‘Tim, I’ll show you back out to your car. When you get to the gates the barrier will open automatically.’

‘Thank you,’ he said.

As the two men left his office, Grace sat down at his desk, puzzled. Weatherley had definitely seen something in the footage, but why, he wondered, was he being so reticent?

Five minutes later he got an answer, but not the one he was expecting. A text pinged on his phone that stopped him in his tracks. It was Weatherley’s number, he recognized it from earlier.

Roy, you asked me to be discreet, which is why I said nothing after the meeting. Call me as soon as you are alone in the office.

Grace read it with growing panic. What did he mean by this? Did he mean that it was someone else he had seen here at Police HQ — or, God forbid, one of his team?

He immediately dialled Weatherley’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. He left him a message asking him to call him very urgently, and sent him a text as well.