Page 36

THIRTY-FIVE

Brigstocke had not been in his office when Thorne and Tanner arrived at Becke House.

He was on his way back from Wood Green, he’d said when Thorne had called, where he’d been liaising – as per their agreement – with Jeremy Walker.

Thorne had too much else on his mind to further voice his reservations about the need to involve Walker at all, so he kept them to himself.

Instead, with the call on speaker and Tanner listening in, Thorne asked Brigstocke to meet them in the coffee shop opposite Colindale station as soon as he got back.

‘Something I should know?’ Brigstocke asked.

Tanner looked at Thorne and shook her head. This was a conversation they needed to have in person.

‘I’m buying the coffee,’ Thorne said.

‘Good enough.’

Thorne and Tanner were already on their second round when Brigstocke finally walked in, looking ready for some caffeine of his own. As soon as he’d had a shot, he sat back and looked at them.

‘Before you say anything, yes I’m well aware that Walker’s a bit of a knob, but these things have to be done and, luckily for you, I’m the mug that has to do them.

’ He waited, clearly a little surprised that the response he’d been expecting – from Thorne at least – was not forthcoming. ‘Christ, this must be serious.’

‘Just a bit,’ Thorne said.

Tanner leaned across the table. They were not the only customers, so she lowered her voice as she told the DCI exactly what she’d told Thorne late the night before. The horrifying story that Emily Mead had told her.

Brigstocke looked as if he was struggling to find the right words, so settled in the end for one simple expletive.

‘Sounds about right,’ Tanner said.

‘So, it wasn’t an accident that Emily came up with that story when she was trying to get Brightwell to meet her,’ Thorne said. ‘About there being another man. Because she knows there is.’

Brigstocke shook his head like he was trying to take it all in. ‘She told Brightwell that she knew about another rapist, right? Specifically, another copper who was a rapist, but this man you’re talking about, he’s not . . . ’

‘No, not a rapist, not literally . . . but what that man did to Emily Mead was worse.’ Tanner’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the disgust was clear enough. ‘He directed it.’

‘When she messaged Brightwell, she gave him a name which she knew wasn’t kosher,’ Thorne said. ‘Because she needed a name to make it sound credible. The rest of it she wasn’t making up at all, and that’s how you make a good lie convincing, isn’t it? You make sure there’s an element of truth.’

‘And Brightwell believed it,’ Tanner said.

‘Hang on—’

Thorne cut Brigstocke off. ‘Which makes me think he already knows there’s someone else. Maybe several someone elses. Brightwell agreed to meet up with Emily because he knew that basically, she was telling the truth.’

‘Why didn’t he show up, then?’ Brigstocke stared at them both. ‘If Brightwell thought Emily was being straight with him, if he had no idea what we were up to, why wasn’t he there in the park last night?’

Thorne glanced at Tanner. Now, Brigstocke would understand just how serious things were and why they weren’t having this conversation in the office.

‘I think he knew exactly what we were up to. Not when Emily sent him that message, but later on, before it all went down in the park. He knew, because somebody told him.’

Brigstocke sighed and slowly removed his glasses. He wiped them with a serviette, put them back, then stood up. ‘I think I’d best get another coffee.’

Ten minutes later, Thorne and Tanner had laid out their suspicions; suspicions that had been simmering since the Cresswell operation a week before.

When Brightwell had known exactly where PC Christopher Tully would be and where to leave those fatal doughnuts.

When Thorne had suggested that the killer might even be a police officer.

Suspicions that had grown into the belief that their suspect was in possession of far more intelligence than could simply have been gathered online, or from close observation, or from monitoring sensitive police communications on some high-end piece of kit he’d picked up at Argos.

Brigstocke asked the obvious question. The same question Thorne and Tanner had immediately asked themselves. Why would a police officer, or even a civilian working for the Met, provide assistance to someone who was targeting coppers?

Beyond the possibility of blackmail which he and Tanner had already discussed, Thorne still had no answer, but fumbled for one.

‘It’s not quite as ridiculous as it sounds when you remember that these were not exactly good coppers.

We know Brightwell’s got a personal motive, but maybe whoever’s helping him has just got a thing about .

. . I don’t know, getting rid of the bad apples. Callaghan and Tully.’

‘It wasn’t any kind of police source that led Brightwell to Callaghan,’ Brigstocke said. ‘We know that information came from Emily Mead, and, in case you’ve forgotten, there’s still no evidence to prove Tully was a rapist.’

‘We just haven’t found it yet,’ Thorne said.

‘What about the three innocent coppers he poisoned? Bobak, Hussain and Holloway. How does that fit in with your bad apples theory?’

Thorne was starting to flounder a little. ‘Well, if I had to take a guess, I’d say that whoever tipped Brightwell off didn’t know he’d be willing to kill them just to make sure he got Tully.’

‘That’s possible, of course, but this unknown informant, who for reasons of their own is just trying to clean up the Met, was still willing to carry on feeding him information, even after that?

To tell him Emily Mead was working with us?

’ Brigstocke shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Tom, but I’m not buying it. ’

‘We’re just thinking out loud,’ Tanner said.

‘Well, you might need to think a bit more clearly.’

Thorne had to concede that his boss had a point, that they still hadn’t come close to working out what Brightwell’s source was up to, but it did not shake Thorne’s conviction that there was one.

‘Listen, Russell . . . I know you don’t want to believe that someone’s passing on information—’

‘Too right I don’t.’

‘Even so—’

‘Like this isn’t enough of a nightmare.’

‘A bit worse for Emily Mead, I would have thought,’ Tanner said. ‘For all the other victims.’

Brigstocke nodded, reddening a little. ‘Yeah, course.’

‘It is happening, though,’ Thorne said. ‘There’s a leak . . . so I just think we need to be careful about who we’re “liaising” with.’

‘ Walker ? You’re seriously—’

‘No, I’m not suggesting it’s him, because it’ll be someone who isn’t obviously such a twat, but it’s definitely someone close to the investigation. I mean, it’s got to be, right?’

Brigstocke’s glasses came off again.

‘Maybe even someone on the team.’

‘Jesus . . . ’

‘We need to tighten the circle a bit, that’s all, choose who we share important information with. Until we catch Brightwell or manage to ID his source, we can never be sure who we’re talking to.’

‘We should start with exactly who has access to the safe house,’ Tanner said. ‘You saw the message Brightwell sent to Emily after what happened at Whittington Park. I’m sure she’s in no danger, but even so, I reckon it should just be the three of us.’

‘Fine, I’ll get it sorted.’ Brigstocke sat back and stared into his mug for a few seconds. ‘Taking all that on board, where do we go next?’

They thought for half a minute or so.

Beyond exploring all the usual and as yet unproductive avenues in the hunt for Alex Brightwell, Thorne was not altogether sure what their next move should be.

‘I think we should look a bit closer at the other rape cases that are connected to this,’ Tanner said. ‘Maybe what happened to Emily Mead wasn’t a one-off.’

‘Sounds reasonable,’ Brigstocke said.

‘I’ll see if I can track down Siobhan Brady, find out exactly what happened when she was attacked by Peter Brightwell, maybe tap up a few other people who worked that case.’

‘Be careful.’ Brigstocke nodded at Thorne. ‘Like Tom says, you’ll never know who you’re talking to.’

Tanner assured him that she would remain cautious. ‘And I’ll try and talk to the woman who was raped by Craig Knowles.’

‘The wife, you mean?’

‘Wasn’t there an earlier case?’ Thorne asked. ‘I seem to remember he’d been accused before.’

‘Really?’ This was news to Nicola Tanner.

‘Three years earlier,’ Brigstocke said. ‘Knowles was accused of rape and arrested for it. That case was dropped early on, though, which is why, when he was on trial for raping his wife, he could legally be described in court as a man “of previously good character”.’

Thorne scoffed. ‘Right.’

‘I think I should talk to that woman then,’ Tanner said. ‘The one who accused him first time round.’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ Brigstocke said.

‘Why not?’

‘It’s . . . complicated. Well, you’ll see, but I’m fairly sure you’ll be wasting your time.’

Tanner waited, but Brigstocke did not elaborate.

‘Look, I know Knowles is safely banged up, and as of now there’s no obvious link,’ she said, ‘but we know he and Tully were at Hendon together, and Brightwell did mention his name in that first message, so I think any rape he was accused of is worth looking at, whether he was convicted or not.’

Thorne nodded. Peas in a pod .

‘Priya Kulkarni,’ Brigstocke said. ‘That’s the name of the woman you’re talking about, but I’m betting she won’t talk to you.’

Tanner waited.

‘I wasn’t anywhere near that case, so I don’t know all the details, but I do remember it being something of a shitshow. For her, I mean.’ Brigstocke downed what was left of his coffee. ‘I’m not sure she’s very keen on the police.’

‘I’m starting to wonder if anyone is,’ Thorne said.