Sitting in the garage’s small waiting area, Anna read newspapers left on a small table for the customers. She yawned and tossed aside one paper after another. It took three quarters of an hour for her Mini to be returned polished and buffed, its interior hoovered and wiped down. By this time it was after nine and she picked up a takeaway Chinese, stopped at an off-licence and bought a bottle of wine.
The Chinese noodles were soggy, so she ate little, but drank two large glasses of wine. After taking a shower and blow-drying her hair, she watched the TV news as it covered the escape and the ongoing search for Henry Oates. Aerial shots of the quarry appeared, showing the massive search the Met had organized, and although the media were not yet privy to how many bodies had been uncovered or their identities, it was stated that Henry Oates was a serial killer on the run. They repeated clips of the news conference, stressing that an officer remained on the critical list after being shot by Henry Oates. Anna, feeling depressed, couldn’t be bothered to watch any more so she turned off the TV by remote, switched off her bedside light and snuggled down under her duvet.
In the darkness she let her mind wander over the events of the case, recalling that Eileen Oates had said that her husband had attempted to join the Army, but had been kicked out. She wondered if he’d had enough time to learn how to use a gun. He had certainly fired off enough rounds, but she doubted he had intended to shoot Barolli. But then again, maybe he had.
Anna didn’t give a moment’s notice to how lacking in emotion she was. Of course she felt bad for Barolli; everyone did. There was also the depression they all felt at the escape, which would, she knew, have repercussions within the team. It was normal procedure for the Met’s Department of Professional Standards to investigate the type of incident that had occurred, and she had no doubt the Independent Police Complaints Commission would be all over it as well. Every single moment of the entire operation would eventually come under scrutiny and be investigated. She was satisfied that nothing she had done could be held against her as unprofessional. On the contrary, if her part in the enquiry was to be reviewed she was satisfied she had handled herself with integrity at all times. She thought that Mike would probably be the scapegoat – someone had to take the blame, and not only within the Met. The public would want to know how a serial killer like Oates could have managed to not only get away but also with a police officer’s gun. One by one she went through the incidents that had culminated in Oates’s escape.
The relentless storm followed by the crashing down of the arc lamps, the mayhem and confusion that had ensued, Kumar blowing his car horn, the howling of the sniffer dogs and the sudden discovery that there were bodies in the woods. All of it combined together, followed by a brief few seconds of such chaos that Oates had used the opportunity to make a run for it. Barolli, although attempting to stop Oates, had left the patrol car with the keys in the ignition, and it was parked literally within yards of the top of the quarry, ready to head for the woods.
Anna yawned again and curled up on her side, confident that no blame could be cast in her direction. The selfish clinical appraisal made her realize how different she had become. The protective shield was in place: her only concern was for her own career position. The Anna who had been unable to hide her distress at a victim’s injuries earlier in her career was buried deep. Her feelings were now totally under control, her vulnerability would be difficult to detect. She had been consumed by the loss of her beloved fiancé Ken Hudson, she had suffered such lacerating pain that she was determined to never allow the possibility of it ever happening again.
The press were surrounding the station waiting for news, so Anna muttered ‘No comment’ as she hurried inside, to where Mike was waiting for everyone to gather. He looked terrible; his eyes were red-rimmed as if he hadn’t slept. Anna, coffee in hand, looked refreshed by contrast and was wearing one of her smarter black suits with a ruffled white shirt beneath it. As she had washed her hair the previous night she wore it loose and had even put on some make-up.
Mike told everyone that Barolli was on the road to recovery and was very fortunate that the two bullets had missed vital organs.
‘Not hit his head then?’ someone joked.
Mike smiled and suggested they have a whip-round to send him some flowers and then it was on to business.
They were waiting for the post mortem report on Rebekka Jordan and the four other bodies that had been recovered. The pathologist was finishing off the examination of Rebekka’s body and would start on the other victims later that morning but to complete all the post mortems would take at least two days and he would need another week to write up his report.
Top priority was the hunt for Oates. Officers had been put on surveillance outside Oates’s squat in case he turned up. Mike went through the possible areas Oates might run to, commenting that it was possible he’d try and contact his wife in Scotland.
‘What we know is he has no money so he’s got to steal, burgle some place, and with his face plastered over every newspaper we’ll maybe get lucky and someone will recognize him. To date we have had twenty sightings, believe it or not, but none have proved valid, so it is basically a case of following every lead we get.’
Joan signalled to Mike that there was a call for him.
‘Who is it?’
‘Area Commander.’
‘I’ll take it in my office. Anna, you want to take over for a minute?’
Mike hurried into his office as Anna stood up.
‘He’s very used to living off the streets, but I think the locations we should check are those of the two known associates, Ira Zacks and his other boxing pal, Timmy Bradford. They appear to be the only two friends he has had any contact with in the last five to six years. I doubt he would get much help from his ex-wife – he would also have to travel some distance to get to her with no money for train or coach. He could thumb a lift, but again, as Mike says, his photograph is plastered everywhere and there’s been a lot of TV coverage. He’s also desperate, so as we have surveillance on his basement, double-check with the neighbours as he could be holding them hostage.’
Anna moved to the board to indicate the address of Ira’s flat close to Hammersmith Bridge. ‘We know the bird has already flown from there along with his girlfriend, so that would mean it’s empty. He maybe could have broken in. They found the police car Oates stole abandoned in Hammersmith by the flyover. Sad as it may seem, we need to check on the Jordans and Markhams; again this is all down to where we know he knows. The other location is Kingston, the housing estate were Timmy Brad ford lives with his mother. There are also numerous empty flats there that are being done up to be sold. Double-check the health club he used, any place we know Oates frequented.’
Anna hesitated and crossed to the large section of the board with the quarry pictures.
‘He knows this area, quote, like the back of my hand – who knows, he might return there. There’s also the gypsy camp – I don’t know whether or not they’d allow him to hide out, but he’s doing just that, he is hiding out. Oates can’t risk going out amongst the public so he will probably move about at night. We need reports of any house break-ins in London. Prioritize the night ones, particularly where food, cash or clothing is stolen. He worked for Andrew Markham, so check the Cobham area as well. There are barns and outhouses, stables, lot of places to lie low. Mrs Markham had a greenhouse. We get as much manpower as we can to cover the known possibilities.’
Mike had been given clearance for a huge team of officers to coordinate and carry out the searches. Anna went into his office to ask if he wanted to join up with any of the crews, but he shook his head. Orchestrating the search would be very much down to her. He himself had been kept busy with Scotland Yard and the press office, not to mention that the incident room was being virtually deluged with potential sightings. Hundreds of phone calls were coming in, most from idiots, but every one of them had to be investigated and cleared. Four more clerical workers had been brought in to handle the calls and record the details of the alleged sightings on the HOLMES computers. Everyone was working flat out, but they were beginning to flag as one possible sighting after another proved unproductive.