Authors: Peter Lovesey
‘If he always wears the same pair of trainers, yes.’
Moving on, Diamond asked, ‘Did you find anything more after I was taken to hospital?’
‘In the woods, you mean? Less than I hoped for. Some boot prints, a few tyre prints, no use until we find the boots and a bike that match them. I’m assuming he buried the rifle somewhere in the wood, but you saw what the ground is like. We could have fingertip searches for a month and still not find it.’
‘He may be back to collect the gun.’
‘I thought of that,’ Gull said. ‘Told the Wiltshire guys to keep a twenty-four watch for the whole of next week. They’re not happy. The chief inspector talks about resources and calls it an Avon and Somerset crime, as if his county has no stake in it. The point is that the sniper isn’t fucking interested in who polices what. He’s as likely to strike next in Wilts as he is here.’
‘That’s if he spots a copper on the beat at night,’ Diamond said. ‘What are we going to do about that?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Are we going to send out more guys to be shot at?’
Gull frowned. ‘We can’t abandon the streets. The public wouldn’t stand for it.’
‘The public isn’t risking its life. The public can lock its doors and go to bed in safety.’
This flew in the face of modern police procedure. After a pause, Gull said, ‘I don’t know if I’m hearing right. It’s your job and mine to keep the streets safe at night.’
‘We can do that in patrol cars,’ Diamond said. ‘Personally, I’ve never been all that impressed by foot patrols.’
‘You’re on a loser there. Community policing. It’s government policy. Every politician who gets elected calls for a bigger police presence on the streets. The papers scream for it. The public wants it. That’s democracy.’
‘This argument was going on when I first joined the police. Joe Public may feel comforted by the sight of a bobby walking up the high street, but what happens when a crime is committed? They call 999 and expect quick action. That guy on the beat isn’t there before a response car.’
‘Yes, but we can’t measure the deterrent effect. You can’t say how many villains were put off robbing old ladies by the sight of bobbies on the streets.’
‘Not many,’ Diamond said. ‘When old ladies are robbed, it’s in their homes mostly, not outside.’
‘You’re missing the point,’ Gull said. ‘The public sleeps easier at nights knowing we’re out there.’
‘And up and down this country a police officer is assaulted on the streets every twenty minutes.’
‘Don’t quote stats at me, Diamond. Up and down this country includes the West Midlands, Strathclyde and the Met. We’re Avon and Somerset, remember.’
‘Peaceful old Avon and Somerset where upwards of a hundred and fifty officers have been victims of assault over the last year. And what is more –’
‘A hundred and fifty-one.’
Diamond was halted in mid-flow, but not by Gull. John Leaman had spoken again.
‘What?’
‘A hundred and fifty-one, guv. We’ve got to add you to the list.’
Without intending to, Leaman had defused the argument.
Gull gave a rare smile. ‘He’s right. Some people will do anything to prove a point, even flinging themselves under fucking motorbikes.’
‘In point of fact, gentlemen,’ Diamond said with all the dignity he could muster, ‘I wasn’t in Avon and Somerset at the time. I was in Wiltshire.’
The neighbourhood policing debate stopped there. Fortunately the adrenalin rush of clashing with Gull had stopped Diamond thinking about his injuries. His brain was functioning again.
‘Look at this from the sniper’s point of view,’ he said, getting back to the issue that mattered. ‘The first two shootings, in Wells and Radstock, appear to have been carried out without a hitch. He gave nothing away except a few shoe prints and the inevitable, the calibre of the bullets he used. Today was different. He managed the killing okay, except for losing a cartridge case in the undergrowth, but after that things went belly up. For some reason he got trapped in that garden and could have been caught by Lockton and Stillman. He got lucky when Lockton thought he could act alone, but he was forced to clobber Lockton, which was never in the plan.’
Gull took up the narrative. ‘Yes, and after that, he gets on his bike and drives off to the woods and has another close call. He didn’t reckon on us getting onto him so soon.’
‘By his high standards, today was a mess,’ Diamond summed up. ‘He won’t be feeling so chipper. If, as we believe, he hid the gun in Becky Addy Wood, he’ll be worried that we’ll make a search and find it. He knows that’s difficult, but not impossible. With metal detectors we may locate it. And if he intends to carry out more shootings, he’ll need that gun.’
Gull wasn’t comfortable when Diamond was doing the talking. ‘He’s an expert marksman. He may well have other guns. If so, he could afford to leave it buried, rather than risk going back.’
‘I’m not so sure, Jack. That rifle has served him well. Gunmen get attached to their weapons like snooker players with their cues. Bearing in mind that it’s a tell-tale piece of evidence with his prints and his DNA and maybe some of Ken Lockton’s blood and hair adhering to the stock, plus the fact that he wants to use it again, I’m sure he’ll run the risk of going back for it.’
‘If he does, we’ll collar him.’
‘You’re talking about the stake-out?’
‘Right.’
‘Which we’re asking Wiltshire to provide, but with their limited resources. It’s a bigger area than it first appears, that wood, and he seems to know it well. He’ll back himself to outwit a few coppers on a twenty-four hour watch. The question is when does he return? He’ll go by night, when he has the advantage of knowing the terrain. But does he play the long game and leave it until he’s ready to stage another murder, or will he want to collect his gun before then?’
‘He’s cool. He’ll play the long game,’ Gull said.
‘Can’t agree. Every hour that gun is in the wood it will prey on his mind that we’ll find it.’
‘In his shoes, what would you do, then?’ Gull clearly resented having to ask.
‘Go back tonight or tomorrow. I’d approach the wood on foot and be armed, maybe with a handgun, in case I was spotted.’
‘You’d need a torch.’
‘That goes without saying. And a backpack.’
‘What time would you go?’
‘Well after midnight. All of the shootings have occurred not long before dawn. He’ll need some shut-eye after last night. I expect he’s catching up right now, while we agonise over what he does next.’
Reluctantly, Gull was persuaded. He chewed at his thumbnail. ‘Are you recommending we step up the numbers on watch in Becky Addy tonight?’
Diamond shrugged. ‘Put out as many men as we can spare. The odds are still stacked in his favour.’
John Leaman made a point of his own. ‘Especially with local knowledge.’
‘We’ll stake out all the footpaths leading up to the wood,’ Gull said.
‘He’ll have thought of that,’ Leaman said.
‘What’s he going to do, then, smart-arse? Parachute in?’
‘He’ll avoid the footpaths,’ Diamond said before Leaman got into a slanging match. ‘He’ll cut across country. We’d do better looking at the map and deciding where he might leave the motorbike. I’m assuming he’ll arrive on wheels and park it somewhere out of earshot. That’s the biggest risk he takes. Does he leave it
along a country lane where it would stand out or in a street with other vehicles?’
‘The street option sounds more likely.’
‘Agreed. Shall we look?’
The map of Becky Addy Wood was already pinned on the incident board. ‘You’ve got Avoncliff down in the valley with the canal, the river and the railway acting as barriers,’ Leaman said, spreading his hand across the features he mentioned. ‘Above the wood you’ve got the village of Westwood and quite a few small streets.’
Diamond weighed the options. ‘This morning he escaped down the hill and presumably along the towpath. He’ll figure that we’ll have that route covered. I doubt if he’ll come by way of Avoncliff.’
‘Westwood, then?’
‘It’s more likely.’
‘What’s this?’ Gull asked. He traced his finger along the fine double line that snaked from Westwood eastwards to the edge of the town of Bradford on Avon, about a mile off. At the top end it passed close to Becky Addy Wood.
‘Jones Hill.’
‘We should stake that out.’
‘Fine, but I don’t think he’ll come that way,’ Diamond said. ‘There’s no obvious point where he can change route if he’s seen. You know what local lanes are like, with high sides. He’s got better options through Westwood.’
‘You’re really getting into this guy’s head,’ Gull said.
‘He almost got into mine, literally.’
‘Right, then.’ Needing to assert himself, Gull inflated his chest and jutted his chin in a posture reminiscent of Mussolini. ‘We warn Wiltshire Police Authority that we expect the sniper to return to Becky Addy tonight or tomorrow, so they can get a strong presence there, and we tell them we’re blanketing Westwood with our own people. Cross-border co-operation. Will you take care of that?’
‘I was thinking in view of these …’ Diamond lifted one of his crutches a few inches off the floor.
‘Are you in pain?’
‘Not acute pain. I took something for it.’
‘My role as head of serial crimes is to decide the strategy,’ Gull said, regardless that Diamond had been deciding it for the past ten minutes. ‘It’s up to you to implement the action. If you’re unfit, you’d better say so and we’ll appoint a deputy.’
‘I’m okay.’
‘Good. I’ve been on the go some hours and I’m going to leave you in charge for the time being.’ He noticed Leaman checking the clock. ‘No need to log my comings and goings, by the way. The SCU is free ranging.’ He stalked out.
‘Free-range, as distinct from battery birds, like you and me,’ Diamond said to Leaman.
‘If you want a rest, guv, I can set things up for tonight.’
‘You heard me say I’m okay,’ Diamond said. ‘Would I lie to Jack Gull?’
No response.
Diamond eased the crutch from his right arm and let it fall to the floor. ‘I don’t need both of these any longer. I can manage with one.’ He hobbled a few steps to the board plastered with photos of all three shootings. ‘Gull and his people are convinced these attacks are random. They say they researched the murdered officers and there’s no reason anyone would want to shoot them for who they were.’
A frown from Leaman suggested he, too, had taken this as gospel.
Diamond continued, ‘They made up their minds before Harry Tasker was killed.’
Leaman scratched the back of his head, unsure where this was leading. ‘They must have gone into it carefully.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘But you think they could be mistaken?’
‘Put it this way, John. They’re the Serial Crimes Unit. Serial killing is their business and serial killing is usually random. After two shootings they look at the history of the victims and can’t see any link between PC Hart, the Wells guy, and Richmond, the Radstock guy. So it’s random. And when shooting number three occurs – same weapon, same time of day, same MO – their suspicion hardens into certainty. They’re so sure that they don’t even consider checking whether victim three has anything in common with victim one or victim two – apart from being a cop.’
Leaman’s eyes widened. ‘Is that possible?’
‘It ought to be looked at. We have Harry Tasker’s file here and more importantly we have people who knew him. Personally I know sweet FA about Hart and Richmond.’
‘Their records will be at headquarters. Must be, if Jack Gull and his team were studying them. I can ask them to share them.’
Diamond shook his head. Some craft was wanted here. He didn’t want headquarters thinking he’d pulled the rug from under Gull. ‘Rather than dealing with Portishead, I’ll speak to Wells and Radstock, where these guys were based. Their personnel units must have supplied the profiles. They can supply us as well. I’ll tell them we have an incident room here and we need everything in our system. We’re not dealing with one case in isolation.’
In twenty minutes, he had the information he wanted. Leaman brought it up on the screen. Diamond wheeled his office chair closer.
PC Hart, Martin, aged 31 at death, had joined the police only four years before, after a short career teaching physical education. Born in a village near Wells, he had attended a local comprehensive where he had excelled at sport, notably basketball and fencing. As a fencer, he’d been on the fringe of international selection and this had helped him to a sports course at Bridgwater in spite of mediocre exam results. He’d trained as a teacher and taken up water sports. While still at college he’d met Juliet Strang, from Portsmouth, a swimmer, and they lived together until after obtaining their degrees, when they married. He was appointed teacher of PE at a state school in Minehead. His wife gave birth to twin daughters in the first year. Schoolteaching hadn’t suited Martin Hart’s temperament. He found working to a timetable restrictive, preferring games and leading school teams to the daily routine of lessons. But there had been no problems over discipline. If anything, he was too demanding of the students and expected standards they were unable to match. After six years of teaching, he decided on a change of career and applied to join the police. He was regarded as a good candidate, physically fit and with satisfactory references from the school. He’d completed the training and joined Wells as a probationer and impressed everyone with his communication skills and confidence dealing with a variety of situations. Confirmed as a fully fledged constable he was tipped to get promotion to sergeant within another year. His home life appeared good. After the twins, another child, a son, had been born, and the family lived in a rented house in a well-regarded estate north of the city. His wife Juliet worked part-time as a lifeguard at the local sports centre and coached the swim team.
‘A sheltered life, really,’ Leaman said in summary
Diamond nodded. ‘Family man, lived in Somerset all his life. How would a country boy like this give offence to a gunman?’
‘Are we assuming it wasn’t a random killing?’
‘That’s the point of this exercise,’ Diamond reminded him.