‘I just didn’t realize,’ she said out loud. ‘About the newspaper, I mean.’
Langton murmured for her not to worry, but she did; she was so angry with herself. She leaned forwards from the back seat and tapped his shoulder.
‘I am really sorry. I wanted to tell you, but I kept on putting it off. At least now we know.’
‘Know what?’
‘That Sickert had a reason for frightening me. He is connected to your attack, or knows who did it.’
‘Yeah, but I think it’s got more to do with this Rashid Burry. We might want Sickert for the murders, but I want Rashid brought in under suspicion as well.’ He turned towards her. ‘Don’t bring up my attack. It’s too early to make any connection, and the last thing I need right now is to get the top brass worried that I might have an ulterior motive for wanting to be involved with the investigation. Anna? You hear what I’m saying?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’
Lewis called again when they were on the ferry, to say they had come up empty-handed on Rashid Burry, but were working with the probation departments, so might have more news later. Detective Constable Grace Ballagio, who was checking hospitals in the local area, also made contact: she had had no luck so far tracking down any local patient with sickle cell anaemia, so she was now going further afield, to hospitals within a twenty-mile radius of the piggery. Langton said she should also keep running with the name Rashid Burry and see if it paid off.
It was after four when they arrived at Parkhurst. The prison Governor had asked that they come directly to his office. He was a mild-mannered man, balding, with spectacles. He offered coffee or tea but they both refused.
‘I am afraid I have some rather bad news,’ he told them. ‘You asked to interview Arthur Murphy; at the time, he was available to you.’
‘But he isn’t now?’
‘No, he’s not.’
Langton frowned irritably. ‘He has refused?’
‘No, he was knifed during his exercise period. He died last night.’
‘Jesus Christ! Wasn’t he on Rule 43?’
‘Yes. The two men who were involved are child-molesters from the same wing.’
Langton put his hands over his face. ‘The attack: was it made by white prisoners?’
‘No, black. One shared a cell with Murphy. Right now, we are very overcrowded. I am not making excuses for what has happened to Arthur Murphy, and there will obviously be a full enquiry, but right now there are over ten thousand foreigners behind bars in Britain; they send to us, over here, some of the worst offenders. One of the men was waiting for a deportation order to come through. Nationals account for a mere one in eight inmates. It’s costing the taxpayer a staggering amount, almost four million pounds per year, and we are in dire need of funds to extend the secure units.’
Langton listened, but hardly paid any attention to the figures. The man obviously did need to make excuses for what had happened.
‘I would like to interview the two men involved in the murder of Arthur Murphy.’
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’
‘Why not?’
‘For legal reasons.’
‘But I need information. These two men may be connected to the brutal murder of a young woman and her two-year-old child. If you can’t let me talk to them now, then when can I gain access to them?’
‘When we have completed our investigation. They are held here in isolation, and until we have all the facts, we cannot allow anyone to interview them. We cannot afford any bad press—’
Langton interrupted, his voice harsh. ‘I am not the bloody press, but let me tell you, if you do not give me access to both these men then I will make a public statement.’ Anna could see the muscles in his neck twitching as he tried to control his rage. ‘Arthur Murphy’s sister has been brutally murdered and her child’s body fed to the pigs. Now, if you are refusing to allow me to question these two men, you are—’
‘I am sorry, Detective Chief Inspector Langton, but—’
‘No buts!’
‘I am aware of your investigation. I have your report in front of me as to why you wished to speak with Arthur Murphy, but I have to tell you that one of the men involved in his attack has been in prison for over three years and the other almost six months, so I cannot see how they could give you any details about your case. The local police have obviously been informed and these men will be held in police custody eventually.’
In all the time she had known Langton, Anna had never seen him so angry. He had his fists clenched and looked as if he might swing a punch at the Governor. He jabbed the air with his finger very close to the man’s face.
‘You have just sat there giving me a load of facts and figures. Well, my facts are this: Arthur Murphy was scum, a rapist and a killer. I don’t give a fuck about him; what I need to know is why these two men attacked him. If they are sex offenders, like Murphy, you know as well as I do that they protect each other; discuss their filthy antics with each other. Why knife him? They’re sex offenders, child sex offenders! Right now, I have a suspect on the loose and two small children at risk, a suspect who has…’
Langton suddenly went chalk-white and had to sit back in his chair. His face glistened with sweat. He took out some pills and asked for a glass of water.
Anna leaned close to him. ‘Are you all right?’
Langton nodded, taking pill after pill, gulping at the water. The prison Governor remained silent, then got up and excused himself, leaving them alone.
‘Do you want to lie down?’ Anna asked. He shook his head, then leaned forwards, bending his head down low. She watched him gasp for breath. It was some time before he slowly leaned back, his eyes closed.
When the Governor returned, he was sweating almost as much as Langton. ‘I’m sorry. I am acting on orders from the Home Office. However, considering the seriousness of your enquiry, I will allow you access to each prisoner, for ten minutes.’
‘Thank you,’ Langton said quietly.
The Governor moved to sit back behind his desk. ‘Prisoner 3457, D Wing, is called Courtney Ransford. He is here after escaping from Ford Open prison in 2001; he was picked up for murder two years later. This is his record sheet.’
Langton reached over for the papers. Anna stood up to read over his shoulder.
‘The second man involved is an illegal immigrant waiting for a deportation order, Eamon Krasiniqe.’
Langton looked up in shock. ‘What?’ The man he had arrested for the murder of Carly Ann North was also called Krasiniqe. As Eamon Krasiniqe’s file was passed over, he skimmed the pages. He turned to Anna, pointing to the name. There was no mention of siblings or family.
‘Can you check if this man is related to Idris Krasiniqe, sent down for murder? There’s no mention of family living here.’ The connection was shattering to Langton; he simply could not believe it.
‘We have no documentation on his background. He came into Britain on a forged passport, so even his name could be a fake; it’s quite possible that others are using the same name and same papers. We were in the process of trying to discover exactly how he entered the UK and from where. He was charged with drug dealing and abduction of a fourteen-year-old girl.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Langton muttered.
‘We obviously stripped both their cells, and found nothing that gave us any indication of why it had happened. There is also something that I think I should tell you. One of the reasons we have been in discussions with the Home Office about this situation, and why we cannot allow it to be made public… I mentioned to you how many foreign inmates we have, and how many are of ethnic origin.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Langton was hoping he would not have to listen to another lengthy ‘facts and figures’ monologue.