Crossing the Line (Kerry Wilkinson) (19 page)

until they’d settled and then Izzy started the projector, flashing up a passport-type image of the man

Jessica had seen in the Arndale toilets. He had short dark hair but his hairline was already receding,

despite him only being in his twenties. He looked like the bottom of a plimsoll: rubbery grey-brown

pockmarked skin, a flat nose and thick lips – one of those faces you’d never tire of punching.

‘Three days ago, Victor Todd was attacked in the toilets of the Arndale centre—’ Jessica began.

‘So he was approached by a man from behind in the toilets and there was a prick involved?’ PC

Pen-Thief seemed particularly proud of his remark but Jessica didn’t flinch, despite the smattering of

sniggers around the room.

‘I’ll make the jokes. Anyway, it’s taken us almost this long to piece together everything that

happened. At first the Arndale gave us footage from the wrong day, then the bus company got the arse.

Despite every bus, train and tram in the city being fitted with CCTV, it seems that any time something

happens, they’re either broken, not set up correctly or – in this case – they lost the bus.’

Joy Bag’s turn to pipe up: ‘How do you lose a bus?’

‘They hired it out to a tour group who’d gone to Torquay for two days. By the time they figured out

it was the bus we were looking for, it was three hundred miles away. In the end, it wasn’t worth it

anyway.’

Izzy started the footage, which showed Victor getting onto a bus, paying his fare and then sitting at

the back. Directly behind him, a figure with his hood up paid and sat in the seat slightly hidden behind the stairs that led to the top deck.

‘Todd and his assailant got onto the bus at the stop closest to Todd’s house in Moss Side. We’re

assuming this is the same person responsible for the attacks on Luke Callaghan and Alan Hume

because of the clothing, build and the other things you’ll see. They rode the bus to the centre where

they both got off at the same stop. Our guy in the hood then followed Todd for a few hundred metres

into the Arndale.’

The next set of images from the camera within the shopping centre showed Todd entering, walking

around a clothing shop as the other figure waited on a bench outside, and then heading into the toilets, closely followed by his attacker. As the person looked directly at a camera, the screen froze on a shot

of the mask with the A-shaped anarchy logo on the front.

‘At some point between getting off the bus and attacking Todd,’ Jessica continued, ‘our hoody put

this mask on. Usually you might think a figure walking around a city centre wearing such a thing might

attract some attention but our guy wasn’t the only one.’

The projector changed to show images of five other people sporting similar masks and then

finished on a top-down map of the area.

‘On the day Victor Todd was attacked, there were four separate stalls between the bus stop and the

toilets selling these masks. We’ve checked with the stall-holders but they don’t remember anyone

specifically buying one – perhaps not surprising considering it seems to be the hottest new accessory

at the moment.’

Flash, flash, flash: two dozen more images flickered across the screen.

‘These things are everywhere, selling for a quid each not just in Manchester but across the country.

With this story in the news, it’s made them more popular. Our hoody might have been concealing his

own mask anyway before putting it on but the wider point is that we have no clear image of him.

We’re assuming a man because of the height. He walks a little awkwardly but that might be because

he’s slowing himself to keep pace with his target and not stand out. We’ve spoken to the driver of the

bus, plus the passengers we traced, but no one remembers any details – perhaps not surprising for

anyone who’s been on public transport recently, it’s a zoo out there.’

Jessica nodded to Izzy, who took over, standing and reading from a sheet of paper. ‘Victor Todd

was at a urinal when he felt somebody standing close behind him. He says he felt something puncture

his neck and then the person said something like, “Enjoy getting HIV”. He says it was a gruff male

voice, which backs what we’ve been assuming for a while. There were no traces of anything alien in

Todd’s system, other than cannabis – which he denied using at first. Eventually he admitted he’d been

smoking some the previous evening but it does seem likely the syringe was either empty, or filled

with water or saline. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t tainted with HIV – but the blood tests aren’t back

yet.’

A male PC’s hand went up. ‘Why didn’t he fight back if there was nothing in the syringe?’

Izzy continued: ‘Probably because he was still weeing at the time he was attacked. Not having a

penis myself, I can’t say for sure but I suspect you’d put it away before fighting anyone.’

There were a few more sniggers around the room.

‘There are obviously no cameras in the toilets but on the footage, the attacker moves quickly out of

the toilets and away from the shopping centre. There was someone locked in a cubicle who heard a

commotion but no specific words and then two people who entered in the immediate aftermath. All

we have is Todd’s statement and it’s fair to say he was in shock – and possibly had piss down his

leg.’

Izzy sat and Jessica took over again. ‘We’ve spent the last couple of days looking into every aspect

of Victor Todd’s life. He has no criminal record, not even a speeding ticket. That doesn’t mean he’s

whiter than white. In short, it’s not just the Arndale toilets where he’s been flapping his naughty bits about.’

The screen flicked back to the initial snapshot of Todd.

‘If you can restrain yourselves, ladies, this thin-haired, rubber-faced twenty-four-year-old

Casanova is such a catch that he’s already got six kids by five different mothers. If his ravishing good looks aren’t enough to make you throw those rabbits away then the fact he left school at fifteen and

now works in a chicken-processing factory might just tip you over the edge. He is apparently single

but with the sheer number of relations he has, it’s been a nightmare checking everyone out. We’re still

getting there, so some of you will be out today talking to the supermodels he’s got up the duff over the years. There’s clearly some animosity towards him but it’s a bit of a step up from shagging around to

all of this.’

Jessica waited to see if anyone had anything to add but no hands went up, so she continued. ‘Victor

Todd’s out of hospital and back at his house awaiting his blood test results. Obviously if he
has
been infected with HIV, then it is worryingly serious. We’ve kept it away from the media so far, giving

them the line that there was an assault at the Arndale and leaving it at that. We’ve been in contact with local clinics to see if they’re aware of anyone who might have particular grudges relating to the

disease, or who might match the description of our hoody, but we’ve had nothing solid. For now, that

leaves us chasing the same lines.’

Jessica nodded to the sergeant at the back of the room who had been drafted in from East

Manchester CID to help out as the DS recruitment process dragged on. He was in his early forties and

a bit too normal for Jessica’s liking but she had given him the job of trying to connect everything

together.

He stood and coughed loudly, clearing his throat and pulling his coat tighter. ‘Morning, everyone.’

An awkward pause as nobody said anything. They must be bloody wet out east. ‘Er, okay . . . right . . .

we’ve cross-reffed everything we’ve got on the other two victims with our most recent one and

there’s nothing to connect them. Different ages, different family members, interests, schools attended,

everything. At best, we’ve got that they’re all from around Manchester. The previous link we had

from Luke Callaghan to Alan Hume was that they had both annoyed Michael Cowell.’

Izzy pressed a button on the laptop to change the screen’s image to one of Cowell.

‘Cowell was Luke Callaghan’s former business partner and Alan Hume’s tenant – but he has no

connection we can find to our third victim. As well as our failure to link them, they deny knowing

each other.’

A hand went up: ‘Could this be a copycat?’

The sergeant sat and Jessica took over. ‘Perhaps – but our forensics team working on enhancing the

video frames are convinced it’s the same assailant for all three attacks. They say it’s less than a two

per cent chance of it being someone else. We’ve got to assume it’s the same guy – but if Cowell is

nothing to do with this then we need something, or someone, who connects our three victims. After the

“Gang War” fiasco, we’ve checked Victor Todd’s possible connections to extreme groups but he has

no links to anything. Having spoken to him myself, I think he’s too stupid to understand the difference

between right-wing and left-wing if he’s not talking about football.’

She paused for breath, wanting to make the point extra clear.

‘We need that link between our three victims. The alternative isn’t worth thinking about – random

attacks in public on total strangers. We’ve been lucky with the media so far because they’re taking our

line of one attacker, motives unknown, blah, blah, blah – but if they start reporting these are random

attacks, we’re going to have a panic.’

She couldn’t help but think of how Niall had described the media pressure building up to his

capture of the Stretford Slasher. Public attacks, few leads, a police force seemingly inept and a

worried community. This wasn’t there yet but it could go the same way.

Izzy turned the projector screen off and the team began fidgeting as Jessica handed out the day’s

roles. As they all headed to the exit, Jessica called back Izzy and Dave, who sat opposite her. When it

was just the three of them, she turned to Rowlands: ‘Let’s hear it then.’

His eyes flicked left and right. ‘What?’

‘You obviously got some while you were off gallivanting – so who was she?’

His eyebrows curved downwards. ‘What?’

‘Come on, I can read you like a book – and not a good book. One with pictures and a rambling plot

that doesn’t go anywhere.’ He tried his best to look innocent but Jessica was on a roll. ‘Right, was

she blonde or brunette?’

Rowlands shook his head. ‘Haven’t you got work to do?’

‘Brunette – your right eye twitched.’

‘It did not.’

‘There – you raised your hand, a classic sign that you’re lying.’

Dave lowered his hand slowly, chewing the inside of his mouth, rattled. ‘You’re making this up—’

‘Right, is she older or younger than you?’

‘There is no she!’

‘Ooh, older. How much older? Forties? Fifties?’ Rowlands’ chair rocketed backwards as he stood

too quickly. ‘She’s in her fifties? You’re a sly one.’

The constable stared at Jessica, one eye cocked, confused.

Izzy was stunned: ‘How did you know all that?’

‘Because I know him too well – coming in here all cocky and relaxed because he’s shagged a

granny.’

‘She’s not that old.’

Jessica turned back to face him. ‘Aha! But she
is
old. Who is she?’

Rowlands didn’t know where to turn, even though he couldn’t stop the sheepish grin from sliding

onto his face. ‘All right, sod off, I’ve got work to do. I’m putting in a workplace bullying complaint.’

‘You do that.’ Before he could leave, Jessica turned to Izzy. ‘Right, I want the name and number for

the head of the Majorcan police on my desk within the hour. One way or the other, I’m going to find

out the name of the granny that Dave copped off with.’

As they left, Izzy clapped an arm around Dave’s shoulders. ‘You all right, Romeo?’

He sounded dejected: ‘I’ve only been back for an hour and it’s like I never left. How did she

know?’

Jessica hid the heater underneath the desk in case anyone came looking for it and then headed along

the hallway to DCI Cole’s glass-fronted office. He was on the phone but waved her in, jabbing a

finger at the chair on the other side of the desk as she couldn’t help but hear his half of an irate

argument over a direct debit payment. He slammed the phone down with a plastic-sounding clatter.

‘British Gas really are useless.’

‘So I’ve heard. We’ve still got nothing linking our three victims, by the way. I gave ’em a bit of the

old bum-booting but we’re flagging.’

‘I’ve been onto Serious Crime but they’re convinced the gang link was a red herring.’

‘Any chance they’re saying that because they don’t want us to jeopardise any of their ongoing

investigations?’

‘No, the assistant chief constable’s been onto them too. Stop being so cynical. How is everything?’

‘Not too bad. We could do with an extra sergeant but we charged a guy for the Eccles off-licence

robbery yesterday and our guy was remanded for the Salford arson attempt. Everything’s ticking over

except for this.’

Cole twisted his head away but couldn’t stop himself from yawning.

‘You look tired,’ Jessica said.

‘The job isn’t what it used to be.’

‘That’s what Niall told me.’

‘Aah . . . DSI Hambleton.’ Cole took a deep breath, fighting back another yawn. ‘He had just been

promoted when I moved in here. It was a different time then.’ It sounded as if Cole was going to add

something before he stopped himself mid-word. ‘That’s not exactly what I meant. Since the divorce, I

think I’ve been preparing to get out.’

‘Sir?’