Paul Finch: Stalkers

Heck shrugged. ‘You don’t have to listen to me. Whoever their insider was, his details will be in that filing cabinet in Eric Ezekial’s attic.’

Gemma glanced uncomfortably at Palliser.

Heck noticed this. ‘What?’

‘You haven’t heard about that then?’ Palliser said.

‘Obviously not.’

‘Well …’ Palliser cleared his throat. ‘Owing to the … shall we say confused issue of what exactly happened to Mr Ezekial …’

‘I fully explained that,’ Heck said.

‘Yes well, it wasn’t as easy explaining it to a magistrate. However, we finally managed it, and the search-warrant for Ezekial’s premises was issued this morning.’

‘And?’

‘The filing cabinet in the attic is empty.’

Heck rose slowly to his feet. ‘You are joking?’

‘Sit down, Heck,’ Gemma said, ‘before you fall down.’

‘What do you mean it’s empty?’

‘All these files you described, with the names and coded reference numbers. They’ve gone.’

Heck slumped back into his chair. ‘That proves there’s some bastard on the inside.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Gemma argued. ‘If there are any more of these Nice Guys knocking around …’

‘Why would they take the risk of going there?’ Heck said. ‘They’re going to prison for life, whatever happens. The only people those files would have implicated are the dozens and dozens of men who used their services. If we wanted to know who their grass was inside this department, his details would’ve been right there. So naturally he’s got there ahead of us, and pinched them.’

Palliser’s doleful expression suggested that he didn’t disagree.

Gemma pondered. ‘Wasn’t there a security camera inside the house?’

‘Yes,’ Palliser said, ‘but Ezekial’s hard drive has also been removed. If the camera was still recording at the time of the burglary, it was uploading onto nothing.’

‘So let’s get this straight,’ Heck put in. ‘Just so we’re absolutely clear on the matter. You’re telling me that the details of maybe a hundred men guilty of rape and murder, currently living in Britain — have disappeared? Right from under our noses?’

Palliser made a helpless gesture.

Heck banged his one good hand down on the desk, though it wasn’t quite that good, and he grimaced in pain.

‘Chill out, Heck,’ Gemma said. ‘This is still a major result.’

‘You know something, you’re right.’ Heck got to his feet and lurched towards the door. ‘I should have kept you fully informed … all the way, about every single thing. Then you could have pulled me off the job the first time you got nervous, and we’d have got nowhere near the Nice Guys. So at least now we wouldn’t know what we’d lost.’

‘Heck, wait a minute!’ she said. ‘I want to talk to you.’

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, ma’am, but I’m on sick leave until next year.’

‘Of course you are.’

‘You’ve seen my doctor’s note? I’m not skiving, I’m not malingering — I am completely unfit for duty.’

‘So?’

‘So, if you want to talk to me, book your appointment for next January.’

‘Heck, don’t you dare …’

But he’d already left the department and was now out in the corridor, which was where he met Commander Laycock. The commander, looking cool and preened as ever, was clearly surprised to see him.

‘Afternoon, Sir,’ Heck said.

Laycock eyed him up and down. ‘Looks like there wasn’t a beating you didn’t take.’

‘All in a day’s work.’

‘And how’s your sister?’

‘She’s recovering. It’s mainly shock. Could’ve been a lot worse than it was. She wasn’t physically harmed.’

‘That’s a relief.’ Laycock sounded sincere. ‘Look Heck, I’m sorry you ended up going it alone on this.’

‘Shit happens.’

‘You heard that we’ve lost all the evidence from the assassin’s house?’

‘Yeah, well don’t worry. I’ll find something else.’

‘I think you’ve done enough for the time being. You can leave the rest to us.’

‘If only I could, Sir. The problem is there are a lot of men scattered around the UK who are probably thinking that, thanks to the secret dirtball we coppers currently have hiding in our midst, they’re home and dry. Well … they aren’t. And he isn’t either. And I already have strong suspicions about who he is. All I need to do now is prove it.’

‘Well done anyway,’ Laycock said with a bland smile, offering his hand.

Heck took it, and held on to it just a fraction of a second longer than was absolutely necessary. ‘You can trust me on that, Sir,’ he said intently. ‘As long as I’m in this job, someone else in this job is going to need to be looking over his shoulder. Every minute of every day, for the rest of his life.’

Laycock nodded, smiled again and walked away.

He didn’t look back.