Page 159

Chapter 88

‘Wefound this in Flat Bravo,’ Mathers said, pointing at a single-page document. ‘It hasn’t been processed, so don’t touch it.’

She told Poe it had been hidden in a cheap clip frame, one of those with an MDF back and an acrylic front. The acrylic and MDF were held together by four stainless steel clips. The document had been slipped between the board and a watercolour print of a sailing ship and a buoy. The same picture hung on the wall in Flat Alpha. It was almost certainly the stock picture that came with the frame. The landlord had probably bought them in bulk and put them in all his flats.

The diagram showed a repurposed bug fogger, a specialised aerosol can used in pest control. Sometimes called ‘bug bombs’, they were filled with pressurised insecticide and were for indoor fumigation. The diagram showed a ‘total release’ fogger, a one-shot use-and-discard can. It had a nozzle on the top like a can of shaving foam. But, unlike a can of shaving foam, once the nozzle was pressed, the fogger emptied its contents like a smoke grenade; you didn’t need to keep your finger pressed down.

The diagram had accompanying instructions. Poe read them in growing horror.

•Take fogger to Whippendell Woods. Empty safely.

•Remove valve from bicycle tyre.

•Drill 1 x 2 mm hole and 1 x 5 mm hole into side of fogger.

•Solder bicycle valve over 5 mm hole.

•Inject 200 ml of solution into fogger via 2 mm hole.

•Seal hole with spot solder.

•Using bicycle pump, re-pressurise fogger through the bicycle valve.

Poe gulped. With a single press of the repurposed fogger’s nozzle, Beck could fill a large room with whatever he wanted. And Poe knew from Bradshaw’s briefing that ricin was deadly as a mist.

‘We found a bicycle tyre in his dustbin,’ Mathers said. ‘The valve’s been removed. He’s actually made this thing.’

Poe didn’t answer. Step-by-step, Beck had detailed how he had made a device capable of killing dozens of people. Poe didn’t understand why. Beck was a precision killer. Mass murder didn’t fit with what he was trying to do, or the image he was trying to project.

‘I think I have to bring in CTC now,’ Mathers said.

Counter Terrorism Command was the Met’s anti-terror unit.

‘Before you do, ma’am, can we have a chat about what this means?’

‘Which part?’ she said. ‘The weapon of mass destruction or the fact that we’re still ten steps behind this prick?’

‘The fogger plans,’ Poe replied. ‘Why did we find them?’

‘He forgot to take them with him.’

‘Then why were they hidden? Nothing else is.’

‘He made a mistake?’

‘This guy doesn’t make mistakes,’ Poe said.

‘Well, he has now.’

‘What if he hasn’t?’

‘You’re saying he wanted us to find it?’

‘Everything else in here has been carefully staged,’ Poe said. ‘Why not this? And, while we’re on it, repurposing this fogger isn’t a complex task. He certainly wouldn’t have needed detailed instructions. What was it? Empty the can, drill two holes and fit a valve over one of them. Fill it with poison and pump it up with a bicycle pump. He’s even drawn us a picture, for God’s sake.’

‘You have a theory?’

‘I think this is his equivalent of a suicide vest, ma’am. A warning about what happens if he’s cornered.’