Page 34

THIRTY-THREE

Whittington Park was a relatively small green space at the north end of Holloway Road, midway between Archway and Upper Holloway tube stations and, as it happened, only two miles from Thorne’s flat in Kentish Town.

On a side street opposite one of the park’s entrances, Thorne sat next to a unit driver in the front of a people carrier with blacked-out windows.

Emily Mead was next to Tanner in the seat behind and, at the back of the car, a tactical firearms commander named Chowdhury sat marshalling his officers via a laptop computer.

This was the operation’s command post from where all movement would be monitored and all orders given.

‘That’s supposed to be his cat, right?’

Tanner turned round. ‘What?’

Chowdhury looked up from his laptop and nodded towards the large, leafy cat that had been sculpted from a bush at the park’s entrance. ‘Like in the pantomime. Turn again, Dick Whittington, all that.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Yeah, but that’s just a story,’ Emily said. ‘He was actually a real person, you know, a merchant or something. I don’t think he even had a cat.’

‘But there’s a statue of the cat up the road, outside the hospital.’

‘Like I said, mate, he was a real person.’

‘Yeah, I get that.’

‘He was Lord Mayor of London.’

‘Probably because he helped get rid of all the rats.’ Chowdhury nodded to himself. ‘Well, his cat did.’

‘I already told you, that was just a story.’

‘Can we forget about the fucking cat?’ Thorne said.

Emily took a final look at Chowdhury, then leaned close to Tanner and whispered. ‘I can’t say I’m overly confident about him .’

‘Don’t worry,’ Tanner said. ‘He’s here because he’s good at his job, not because of what he knows about local folklore.’

There were several other entrances to the park, with a plainclothes officer stationed to have eyes on each.

Further officers, each armed with a concealed Glock 19 pistol had been positioned in or around the playground at which Emily had arranged to meet Alex Brightwell; two undercover as a young couple, with a third playing the part of an evening dog-walker.

There were more firearms officers hidden in the trees on either side of the playground.

These carried Sig Sauer carbines with night scopes and, along with every other officer taking part in the operation, were in permanent radio contact with the TFU commander as well as Thorne and Tanner.

‘It’s all going to be fine,’ Tanner said. She hadn’t needed to hear Emily snapping at the firearms commander to know how nervous she was. ‘I promise. You’re doing brilliantly.’

‘I haven’t done anything yet.’

‘Just getting this far.’

Emily nodded, shrinking a little inside her silver Puffa jacket.

‘I mean it. The way you got him here was seriously smart.’

‘If I have got him here.’

Thorne turned round to look at her. ‘Nicola’s right.

Whatever happens, it was bang on, how you handled him.

’ Having seen a transcript of the conversation she’d had with Brightwell first thing that morning, he had no doubt that Emily Mead was very smart indeed, and not just because she knew Dick Whittington didn’t really have a cat.

I know about another copper like Callaghan.

How?

Because Callaghan told me. They were mates. Used to compare notes on the women they’d done it to. Mark them out of ten. Fucking animals.

What’s his name?

Is this place really safe? Throwing names around.

You weren’t worried when you told me about Callaghan.

His name’s Marsh, works out of Clapham station. He’s a sergeant, I think.

Emily had explained that Marsh was actually the officer she’d first spoken to when she’d turned herself in five days before. ‘I thought I’d better give Brightwell a real name,’ she’d said. ‘In case he checked.’

Thorne and Tanner both agreed that Emily had been right to play it safe, although knowing how quickly Brightwell had moved in the past, the officer she’d named had been immediately taken off duty.

I want to help.

I don’t need any help. You should know that by now.

I can be involved though. Let’s meet up and talk about it at least.

. . .

I won’t freak out again I swear. I already said sorry about that.

Fair enough.

Same place as last time? The park.

Not there. Might still be filth around.

Fine, you pick somewhere . . .

Thorne looked at his watch. ‘Five minutes,’ he said. ‘You should go.’

Emily nodded, breathing a little more heavily than she had been.

‘Don’t worry.’ Tanner leaned across to give the woman a hug.

‘We’ll be with you the whole time and if you’re worried about anything, anything at all, just say the word.

’ Like everyone else, Emily had been fitted with a hidden earpiece and microphone.

‘We’ll call it off and pull you out straight away. ’

‘OK.’ Emily reached for the door then stopped. ‘Do you know any more about what’s going to happen to me when it’s over? If he does turn up and you catch him, I mean.’

‘I’m afraid we don’t,’ Tanner said. ‘But I can promise we’ll be fighting for you. Just try not to think about it.’

‘Oh yeah, course.’ Emily looked at Tanner as if she was mad, then took a deep breath and opened the door.

Thorne and Tanner watched her waiting at the pelican crossing, bouncing on the balls of her feet, before walking quickly across the Holloway Road and into the park. They saw a plainclothes officer move to follow her fifteen seconds later.

‘All units from TFC,’ Chowdhury said. ‘Standing by . . . ’

‘She’ll be grand.’ Thorne turned around. ‘Nic . . . ’

Tanner said nothing, peering through gaps in the traffic at Emily Mead’s silver jacket as it shrank into the distance and then disappeared from view.

Emily walked fast, but not too fast, like they’d told her.

It was a reasonably straight path with tall trees on either side and she could see the outline of buildings up ahead in the distance.

It was seriously cold. She asked herself why the hell she was doing this, why she was on her way to meet up with a murderer, especially when she might well end up in prison for her trouble anyway.

Fine, so there were coppers everywhere, but she knew how dangerous the man she’d arranged to meet was.

What he was capable of.

‘Don’t think about it, just keep walking.’

‘Everything OK, Emily?’ Tanner’s voice was tinny in her ear.

‘Sorry, talking to myself.’

‘No problem. Just try and keep calm. I know that probably sounds stupid.’

‘I just wish it wasn’t so dark.’

‘Not for long,’ Tanner said. ‘Where you’re supposed to be meeting, there’s spill from the football pitch up by the playground and there are some outside lights at the community nursery.’

‘Hang on . . . ’ Emily watched as a figure loomed into view. ‘There’s a man coming towards me.’

‘Don’t worry, it’s not him. We’ve got officers watching every entrance and he hasn’t been spotted.’

The figure got closer, his face illuminated by the light from a phone screen. ‘It’s fine,’ Emily said. ‘It’s just an old bloke. Sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry,’ Tanner said. ‘You’re nearly there, OK?’

Tanner had been right about the lights, and by the time Emily reached the bench at the edge of the playground she could see her surroundings much more clearly.

She spotted the young couple sitting together on the slide.

She knew they were coppers, same as the man with the dog mooching around by the nursery.

‘OK, I’m in position,’ she said.

‘Still standing by,’ Chowdhury said.

Each of the armed officers quickly acknowledged the message.

Ten minutes later, Emily was starting to shiver, jumping at shadows and struggling to breathe normally. ‘How long are we going to give him?’ she asked.

‘Just hang in there,’ Thorne said.

‘That’s easy for you to say.’

‘I know.’

‘It’s bloody freezing out here.’

‘I think we should wait at least—’

Thorne was cut off by a message from one of the officers manning the park’s perimeter. ‘IC2 male matching suspect’s appearance has just entered park via the west entrance next to the community centre.’

‘Shit,’ Emily said.

‘Try not to panic,’ Tanner said. ‘We’ve got officers on him every step of the way.’

‘All units, move to code amber,’ Chowdhury said. ‘Suspect approaching playground . . . ’

Emily turned to see the man walking towards her. He was wearing a dark jacket over a hoodie, his face obscured.

She stood up and raised a hand.

The figure was no more than twenty feet away from her. It was still possible, of course, that he was going to walk past, that he was simply someone out for an evening stroll through the park. She didn’t even know if she wanted it to be Brightwell or not.

What she wanted was to turn and run.

‘All units from TFC. Prepare to move to code red . . . ’

Then the man lurched suddenly across to her side of the path and quickened his pace, heading straight for her.

‘All units go!’

‘Armed police! Stay where you are and put your hands in the air.’

Emily looked to see the young couple running towards her with guns in their hands; the dog-walker doing the same.

‘Hands in the air!’

The man stared for a few seconds as if he couldn’t see them, then slowly raised his arms. ‘Yeah, all right, I’m doing it. I’m doing it . . . ’

Thorne and Tanner were out of the people carrier and sprinting into the park as soon as the firearms officers took their weapons out.

Within thirty seconds they had reached the playground to see one of the officers standing close to the suspect, while the others kept their guns trained on him from a few yards further back.

Emily was watching from the bench, her hands across her mouth.

‘Fuck’s going on?’ the man asked.

‘Lift your hood up so we can see your face.’

Still looking somewhat dazed, the man did as he was told.

‘It’s not him,’ Emily said.

Thorne and Tanner stepped forward and Thorne told the armed officers to put their guns away.

‘All units stand down,’ Chowdhury said.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ Thorne asked.

‘I’m Billy,’ the man said. ‘How you doing?’

He sounded slurry and, even from several feet away, Thorne could smell the alcohol on him. ‘What are you doing here?’

The man lowered his arms. ‘I’ve got something for her , haven’t I?’ He pointed at Emily. ‘Some bloke came up outside the tube and paid me twenty quid to give her a message.’ He reached into his jacket and the armed officers immediately produced their weapons again.

‘I’d do it slowly if I was you, Billy,’ Thorne said.

‘I mean . . . twenty quid’s twenty quid, right?’ The man gingerly produced a crumpled piece of paper and Thorne moved quickly to snatch it off him.

Tanner watched as Thorne unfolded it and leaned in to look.

‘What is it?’ Emily asked.

‘Can I keep the money?’ Billy asked.

‘It’s nothing,’ Thorne said.

‘I want to see.’ Emily walked across and held out a hand.

Thorne turned to Tanner, who took a few seconds then nodded. Thorne handed the message across.

Emily stared down at the elaborate drawing and stifled a scream.

A butterfly, splayed and mounted on a bloodied pin.