Oliver Stark - American Devil

Since 3 p.m. the previous day, Harper had been busting everyone’s gut trying to get the operation up and running. There were many upscale stores on Madison Avenue on the Upper East Side, but the victims had made purchases at only four of the stores. They were all big, fancy names — shops where a handbag would set you back near enough a thousand dollars.

Harper made contact with the department chief of the Technical Assistance Response Unit. They needed the best support for a covert operation of this size and TARU had the capabilities. It was a difficult set-up. First, they didn’t know who they were looking for, and second they didn’t know if the killer would show up. Pattern killers worked in heat cycles. The American Devil had killed five women in quick succession, but he might have been stalking them for weeks or even longer. No one knew his range or the duration of his stalking.

There were two composite images of the killer. Both agreed that he was in his thirties or early forties and had a good smile and grey hair. The killer might be disguised, but the one thing in their favour was that he was a man and not many men visited Prada, Versace, Christian Louboutin or Jimmy Choo.

Harper set up seven teams with three mobile units sited between the stores around Madison Avenue and Park Avenue. Each team consisted of a female undercover cop and a support officer. Harper put Mark Garcia in charge of the other stakeout. Garcia set up three teams around Arrivals at LaGuardia and headed the operation at the airport. TARU’s mobile trucks could beam any video images right back to HQ.

In the precinct, there was plenty of interest in spending time pretending to shop on Madison Avenue, but Harper didn’t want a bunch of low-salaried cops scaring the killer away, so he brought in some advisers. They worked with the cops on the kind of look they needed and the kind of attitude that would help them not to stand out.

Up in the main investigation room, at eleven o’clock the previous evening, Harper had stood looking at his teams. Seven cops looking severely out of place in designer outfits and heels. He was pleased. The advisers had done a great job. Kasper stood at the side and nodded his cynical approval.

The operation was ready to get going at 12.30 p.m., and Harper and Kasper drove to where a white van was parked in the heart of the Upper East Side. Inside, Ali Maakam, the technical supervisor, nodded a hello and showed them the control centre. There was a bank of nine screens. Ali flicked a row of switches on the console and the monitors flickered into life.

‘As requested, Detective Harper, we’ve got seven mobile CCTV units covering the streets. At the moment, they’re focusing on the store entrances. Each unit can be contacted here. Just press the button and let them know what you want. They can trace individuals, zoom, or move location.’

‘That’s great, Ali, thanks.’

‘Well, I hope you find something. This is a bad one. We all want to see him taken down.’

Ali took his seat at the far end of the truck and took out a newspaper. Harper and Kasper looked at him. ‘It’s all about waiting, guys. This could be a long haul.’

A quiet rap on the door preceded the entrance of Captain Lafayette. He huffed his bulk up into the van. ‘You move quickly, Harper. I just hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘We’re watching, that’s all. If he comes we’ll see him, if he doesn’t, we won’t.’

‘It’s Zen policing, Captain,’ said Eddie. ‘Harper ’s got this new world philosophy and we’re gonna really try to pick up any negative karma.’

‘Does he never get tired?’ said Lafayette to Harper.

‘Not yet, he hasn’t.’

‘We should get us some orange robes, Captain. Imagine the NYPD patrolling like that, offering blessing and talking youngsters out of crime. You think City Hall would go for it?’

‘You know, Kasper, the problem is, I think they might.’

Harper laughed, then looked up at Lafayette. ‘No kills yesterday? Looks like the extra patrols worked.’

‘Sure, they worked on the Upper East Side.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘Meaning, we took a lot of men out of East Harlem. We found a body this morning. Some poor hooker by the look of her. You plug one hole and another opens up somewhere else.’

‘No one told me.’

‘This isn’t one of yours.’

‘How was she killed?’

‘We only just got the call. She was found in a dumpster.’

‘I should take a look. Maybe he got put off the Upper East Side by the extra cops and headed north.’

‘You just sit tight down here. If there’s anything to report, you’ll know about it.’ Lafayette patted Harper’s shoulder, said his goodbyes and headed back to the precinct.

‘What do you think, Eddie?’ said Harper, staring at the feeds from the CCTV.

‘About the homicide? Not his style, dumping a hooker.’

‘Just the right day, that’s what’s bugging me. No kills on the Upper East Side. Maybe he couldn’t get to his target. Maybe he wandered uptown feeling hungry.’

‘It’s possible. Anything’s possible.’

‘I don’t know.’ Harper took out his cell phone and called Denise Levene. ‘Guess who?’

‘I should be on your payroll, Harper,’ said Denise.

‘Listen, last night there was a kill up in East Harlem.’

‘He’s struck again?’

‘We don’t think so. I just heard about it, but it looks like a prostitute was murdered. Look, Denise, is there any way a guy like this could change victim type?’

‘Difficult to say. We don’t know this guy’s capabilities. He killed Williamson. He might have killed before. I can’t say. Tell me more about it.’

‘Got nothing more. Just a body in a dumpster.’

‘It’s your call, Harper. I can’t be certain.’

‘I want to take a look,’ said Harper. ‘Can you get up to Madison?’

‘Sure. I’ll be thirty minutes.’

Harper hung up and turned to Eddie. ‘I’m going to shoot up to the crime scene. You hold the fort here.’

‘No problem. Watching TV is my specialist area.’

Tom waited outside the van. The sidewalks bustled with shoppers jostling for space in their thick coats. It was almost impossible for the Blue Team to keep an eye on everyone and Harper hoped the stakeout wasn’t going to be an expensive waste of time.

Denise Levene pulled up twenty-five minutes after the call. She’d been working up a profile of the killer and was keen to share it with Harper. As a starting point, she had reduced the profile to seven characteristics. She could’ve given more detail but Harper had insisted that the only words he could share with the team had to be as hard as facts.

Harper was getting bustled around the crowds of rich shoppers as he headed for her car. Blue Team was just up and running at LaGuardia and Madison and the cops weren’t yet feeling the cold. But they would soon, after working all through Thanksgiving and spending hour after hour standing on the street in the ice staring at Christmas presents they couldn’t afford.

They transferred to Harper’s Buick and drove back up through the forgotten streets of Harlem. Harper was going over the case in his mind and feeling the adrenalin kick of anticipation.

‘You said you know a thing or two about this killer. Why don’t you take me through it,’ he said.

‘Okay, but I can do without the cynicism. This is my first attempt.’

‘I know you’re a rookie, that’s why I trust you. You don’t know what it feels like to be wrong yet.’

‘Well, that’s a vote of confidence I could do without.’

‘Hey, look,’ said Harper, ‘I’ve not been suspended once since I started your treatment.’

‘Yeah, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that we’re doing a lot of case work and nothing on you.’