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‘DI Flynn is getting our director to put pressure on Her Majesty’s Court and Tribunals Service to release the names of jurors but I’ll talk you through it.’

He held up a finger.

‘One: crown court’s in Carlisle and jury service lasts for two weeks.’

He held up a second finger. ‘Two: Tilly’s checked with the MoD and they don’t require employees to take leave for jury service, which explains why Rebecca had nothing on her leave card. Howard was self-employed and Amanda did have to take leave.’

‘And when court’s in session you have to have your mobile switched off,’ Nightingale said.

‘You do, ma’am,’ Poe said. ‘It also explains the irregular times their phones were switched back on. In a crown court trial the jury are often dismissed while a point of law is being discussed. If it’s going to be a while, the usher will allow mobiles to be used while they’re in the jury room.’

‘And because you have to hand them in while you’re deliberating,’ Nightingale added, ‘it explains the longer period they were all off at the end.’

Poe hadn’t considered that. He nodded as another piece of the puzzle fell into place. ‘And finally, although you can’t serve on a jury with a criminal conviction, the trial period predated Howard Teasdale’s sex offence.’

‘All trials are public record,’ Nightingale said. ‘I assume you’ve formed a theory on which one they were on?’

‘There were a few during that two-week period but one in particular stands out. I think you’ll remember it, ma’am.’

‘Why’s that?’ she asked. ‘Who was on trial, Sergeant Poe?’

‘It was Edward Atkinson.’

Nightingale gasped.

‘Oh my God. The man …’

‘The man in the mask,’ Poe confirmed.

And then the room went quiet.

Chapter 54

‘The Curator exists then,’ Flynn said.

‘Seems that way,’ Poe said. ‘Too many similarities for it to be a coincidence.’

‘And who the hell is Edward Atkinson? Why’s he called the man in the mask?’

After Director of Intelligence Edward van Zyl had confirmed that Howard Teasdale, Rebecca Pridmore

and Amanda Simpson had been on the jury for the Edward Atkinson trial, it had been organised chaos. People had phone calls to make. The rest of the jury had to be identified, located and made safe.

They’d assembled in a corner of the incident room. Nightingale had only just returned. She looked exhausted. Coughlan put a steaming mug of coffee in front of her. She sipped at it gratefully.

‘Ma’am, do you want to tell DI Flynn who Atkinson is?’ Poe asked.

‘You do it,’ she replied, her mobile pressed against her ear. ‘I’m trying to get your lot to tell me what his new name is.’

‘You weren’t informed at the time?’ Poe asked, surprised.

She shook her head. ‘You know what happened. Can you blame him? If it had been me, I know I wouldn’t have wanted … hello, this is Detective Superintendent Nightingale from Cumbria Constabulary; I’d like to speak to your operations manager, please … yes, I’ll hold.’ She turned to Flynn and said, ‘I’d better take this in my office.’

After she’d left, Flynn asked again, ‘Who the hell is Edward Atkinson?’

‘I was working for SCAS when it happened but for a while Edward Atkinson was the most hated man in Cumbria,’ Poe said. ‘He worked for a waste management and recycling business. One of those companies who securely dispose of the hazardous materials some industries create.’

As he spoke, Bradshaw was typing furiously. ‘J. Baldwin Limited? Based in Workington?’