London
4 a.m.
April 19th
The smash of the door had woken Aliesha from a sweet dream. She didn’t have time to get out of bed before an armed policeman with an MP5 shone his barrel torch in her face and screamed at her not to move. There were shouts of ‘clear’ all over the house and she was dragged, wrapped in her duvet down to the lounge. They’d let her dress, cuffed her and taken her to Albany Street. She was left alone in the interview room for half an hour. Tony Deany, Ellie and Liam had been called back to Euston Tower, where they gratefully went to their rooms and slept. Tony didn’t even take his clothes off he just laid down on the bed and fell asleep.
The wait at Albany Street station for Aliesha was for Diane Peters and the DIC psychologist Else Patrick to arrive. Else wasn’t happy at being woken up and called out in the early hours.
Else was a PhD in Psychology, Masters in Psychotherapy and had numerous qualifications in Occupational Health. She was a sixty year old short blonde woman from Lancashire. Her short, neat stature, belied a giant mind, but she was a woman of regular habits and disliked being woken at odd hours.
She and Diane were let into the locked interview room. They both sat down opposite Aliesha. Diane put, stereotypically, a brown cardboard docket on the table.
“Who are you two, you don’t look like police?”
“I’m Mrs Peters and this is Mrs Patrick, we’re from a government agency.”
“Oh spooks eh?” Else raised an eyebrow.
“We’d like to know about Peter Mason, the man you took home from the nightclub.”
“There’s nothing to tell. He came to the hair salon, where I work, I cut his hair, and I fancied him so I told him the night club I was going to. When I got there he was sat at the bar, I got off with him and he wanted to go back to my place. We went to my house had sex and when I woke up he’d gone.” Aliesha spread both hands out in ‘a that’s it’ manner.
“Did he tell you anything about himself?”
“Not much?”
“He told you his real name at the salon though?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t lie!” Diane’s voice was like a whiplash in the room and left a thick echo for a moment.
“I’m not lying.”
“He booked and paid for his hair cut in the name of Marc Townshend, but you knew he was Peter Mason. So he must have told you later. That tells me there’s some connection between you that’s more than casual sex for both of you.”
“Clever bitch aren’t you.” Aliesha folded her arms and stared into mid distance.
“If Peter Mason told you his name then you’re either lucky to be alive or you mean something to him and I’d bet on the latter and as that’s true it means you can tell me about him.”
“I’m telling you nothing. You have nothing on me and you’ll have to let me go in twenty four hours.”
“That’s not true. I’ve got a link between you and Mason and that means I can hold you on the prevention of terrorism act. I can hold you here for 42 days, well when I say here I mean I can have you put in a prison cell and transported between there and here every day, so don’t get cocky with me Miss Jones!”
“I haven’t done anything. I just met him and… he was a bit rough, he scared me… he even told me his name… but I don’t know anything else I swear…” Aliesha’s switch to a half pleading earnest, innocent victim from a confident young woman would have drawn sympathy in most people, but Diane knew her job and she looked left at Else, who was sitting, hand over her mouth thoughtfully gazing at Aliesha.
“She’s lying.” Else said slowly.
“What?” Aliesha stood up. “What the hell is she, a psychic or something?”
“She’s an insecure young woman, probably fell out with her parents, the usual East West clash, her brothers got all the attention. She’s changed her name by deed poll to ‘Jones’ to make the break complete, probably at seventeen, it’s usual when legally free for the unhappy to do that. The black clothing and pseudo anarchic culture of Goths and metal appeals to her because of the occult links which fly in the face of the gentle and respectable values of what would have been a Hindu upbringing, but being genetically inclined to seek adventure the family life didn’t appeal and drove a wedge. Now she thinks she’s a night life good time girl, but really she’s just a naughty little girl inside. If she didn’t know who Mason was when she met him, she does now and she’s protecting him because he’s like the father figure she wants…”
“You Bitch!” Aliesha went to slap Else, but Diane had risen and executed a neat block, grab and twist, spinning ‘Leash’ into the chair.
Else continued, “… he’s lied to her and she believed him. It’s typical really and somewhat predictable. He’ll have known they’d find her so why didn’t he kill her…?”
“He wouldn’t have killed me. He loves me! We’re in love!” Diane looked at Else again.
“Hmmm yes that is a sensible suggestion. Though he more likely likes the idea of having a girl with him, perhaps he’s getting past his prime. She does love him though or rather she’s smitten, little girls can’t tell the difference.”
“ off you bitch.” ‘Leash’ hugged herself and yet managed to look like a cornered cat.
“That hit home. Okay Else thanks you can go. Sorry to wake you, but this was crucial.”
“Don’t make a habit of it Diane.”
“Is that it?” ‘Leash' asked stunned.
“No.” She paused as Else left the room. “She’s something of an expert. Rarely wrong. Now I know the situation we can get down to what you can tell me… oh and before you say you haven’t committed a crime you’re an accessory to the theft of a motorcycle okay.”
“He had the keys how was I supposed to know it wasn’t his.”
Diane ignored her. She opened the brown file and spread pictures on the desk. There were crime scene photos from Beech Bottom Dyke, The crushed Volvo 440 with clear images of the dead officers’ lifeless bodies at odd angles in the blood spattered carnage of the dumped vehicle. The shots were enough to turn anyone’s stomach over. ‘Leash’ turned her head away.
“Look at them!” Again the whiplash voice which this time pulled her head round, but there was no trace of shame.
“He said you’d lie to me. Say he was a murderer”
“Really, we’ve got his DNA off your bed and any minute now I will be able to link it to the bodies and when we’re done we’ll have him for any other assassinations he’s done here or abroad.”
“He’s going where you won’t be able to get him.”
Diane laughed.
“Really?” She said drily.
The door opened and a plain clothes detective came in and put a sheet in front of Diane. She looked down and the looked up with clear hard eyes. Then she dealt out what she knew would be the winning hand.
She slid the sheet with the DNA results in front of ‘Leash’.
“Look at it!” Even the plain clothes man winced when she spoke.
‘Leash’ looked at it.
"Pick it up Aliesha and read it.”
'Leash' picked it up and read it. The two bars of data on the sheet matched. Her eyes rose slowly from the paper and then she went to place it on the table to see two pictures, family pictures, a man with two children, a girl and a boy, and a woman and a her husband in portrait with a cute blonde two year old boy.
Diane’s voice was soft and motherly, tender and emotional.
“That’s Stewart Mitchell and his two kids. His son Antony is fourteen and his daughter, that’s her with her dad’s hand on her shoulder, she’s eleven; she’s twelve this Saturday coming.”
Diane paused. ‘Leash’ stared at the picture then watched Diane’s manicured finger point to the second photo.
“That’s Moira Brown with her husband and their two year old son.” ‘Leash’ unable to bear it looked away. Diane slid the photos of the Stewart Mitchell’s blood coated face, neck twisted when his body was pitched around by the dumping of the police Volvo and Moira’s bloodied face with the bullet wound clear and grim where her eye should have been.
“Look at it!” ‘Leash' didn’t respond. “Look what he did because they’d tried to stop him. Two unarmed police officers and he killed them. He’s here for a reason, he doesn’t love you he just wants to use you and he’s going to kill at least one more time, now you’ll be responsible for the next person he kills as well if you don’t help me stop him…”
‘Leash’ had begun to sob.
“I’ve got a daughter about your age. How old are you Aliesha? Twenty, twenty-two?”
“I’m twenty.”
“My daughter’s a year older. She goes to clubs. I’d hate to think of her being tricked so badly by a killer. He used you and he lied to you Aliesha. What do you know?”
“Will you call my dad?”
“Yes love. I’ll call him.” She turned to the officer.
“She named him as next of kin on the checking in form. You’ve got a number.” He left the room.
“Well?” Diane asked in a once again harsh voice.
“I think he got attached to me, he seemed friendlier in the early hours when he left. I thought his name was Marc. He had a gun…”
“Probably the one that belonged to one of my men; he’s in hospital, lucky to be alive by all accounts..” Diane interjected.
“I was excited, he’s very manly. He said he had a job to do, big money then he was going to a non extradition country. He said he’d call for me… he said you’d lie… that he’d been a soldier… that people die all the time…”
“They’re good at deception Aliesha.”
“I think he meant it though, really I do.”
“Yes perhaps he did. Perhaps he wants to settle down with his ill gotten gains and you appealed to him. You are attractive and to a man his age… well… but what do you think would have happened when he got bored with you or a settled life?”
“I know. I… I’m sorry for those people really I am.”
“Did he say anything else anything at all?”
“No… I ‘m sure… wait, in his sleep he said some name like ‘Jon’ and the word ‘Priory’… twice… I wondered if he’d killed a priest in the past, he was having a bad dream…”
“Guilty conscience and wounded psyche does that. Else counsels our people who have to kill anyone. They get checked. Killing’s unnatural.”
The officer came back in.
“He’s on his way.”
“Did he say anything?” ‘Leash’ asked.
“Just that he was on his way.”
Diane collected the photos into the file and got up.
“Let her go, but have her watched and by armed police, protection,” she turned to ‘Leash’ ”and you young lady build some bridges with your father. Family life is important and it’s what good society is built on, the bedrock. Make the most of your time with your father.” She tapped the brown folder. “There’s a girl in there that’ll long to see her father every day from now on, but especially Saturday next. He won’t be coming home though. Make the most of the time you have, it may run out much faster than you expected.”
When Diane got outside the cell she leant against the wall, took a hankie out of her sleeve and wiped away the tears that she had controlled in the room. She blew her nose, pushed the hankie into her sleeve and got out her ‘sat phone’.
“It’s Diane. Run the word ‘Priory’ through the computers and compile a list of places. It may be nothing, but there’s not much to go on… yes she did…silly little mare… she’ll be fine… daddy’s on the way to make it all better for her.”