Langton sipped a glass of water before he continued. ‘Travis and I interviewed both the prisoners involved in the murder of Arthur Murphy. The first, this guy Courtney, would give us nothing as to why Murphy was a marked man. The second, Eamon Krasiniqe, is in a stupor and unable to speak; the prison is in about the same state.’
Langton drew up a chair and sat down in front of his work. He rubbed his knee, and asked for a coffee. From the chair, he pointed to the board. ‘We have to find out what Murphy knew that warranted his throat being cut. We have to trace Sickert and Rashid: either they, or someone close to them, have or has enough power to terrify someone inside a prison so much that they would kill.’
He sighed. ‘It also emphasizes that Gail Sickert’s two missing children, if not already dead, are in a very dangerous situation. We’ve had a lot of press coverage and television news, but nothing has come from either.’
He stood up as if sitting pained him more than standing. He now turned to the room and asked for any developments.
Grace gave a report on the hospital that had seen Joseph Sickert. He had walked into the emergency department and given his name as Rashid Burry. He said he had been staying with friends locally when he was taken sick, and gave as his address the hostel in Brixton.
‘He had a very high temperature and was very obviously a sick man. The doctor advised him that he should have a Doppler echo-cardiography test, but Sickert did not want to remain there for any length of time. He was given medication for high blood pressure—’
Grace was interrupted by Langton. ‘Grace, we don’t need all this. Did you ask if there were any kids with him?’
‘Yes. Apparently he walked in alone and was seen quite quickly, as he was very agitated. He was shouting and being abusive and at one time lay on the floor, saying he couldn’t get his breath.’
‘How long did he stay at the hospital?’
‘Twelve hours. He was about to be transferred when he discharged himself and walked out.’
‘The two older kids and Sickert have now been missing for nearly three weeks! Somebody, somewhere must have knowledge of their whereabouts, so we go with another round of press releases.’
‘The doctor warned Sickert that he was heading for a crisis, as he was vomiting and, as I said before, had a very high temperature. In this state, he is very susceptible to infections. I would say, wherever he is, he will need further medical treatment.’
Mike Lewis was next up. ‘We have been checking out hostels in the Harlesden, Hackney, Brixton and Tottenham areas. Some people who live there have been ordered to move in by the courts, as a condition of bail, or are on parole. Others become resident when they have been required to do community service, as the courts believe that they need supervision. We were repeatedly told that offenders living in hostel accommodation are not free to come and go as they please, but have a strict set of rules, including a curfew, usually from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. Most hostels were manned around the clock, and staff were very keen to make it clear they were in contact with their local police and local community. If residents don’t abide by the instructions of those staff, then they stand a chance of being returned to prison or having their parole withdrawn. They are not allowed to bring in intoxicating drinks, drugs that are not prescribed by a doctor or nurse, or any solvents and so on. Rooms are, I was told, checked out on a regular basis.’
Lewis looked up. Langton sat, head bowed — bored.
Nevertheless, Lewis continued. ‘Okay, that’s what is supposed to be what goes down in these hostels and halfway houses. In reality, those places are a shambolic mess, but to get anyone to admit it was like pulling teeth. They are all understaffed and under pressure. We have here a list of offenders who have simply cut off their electronic tags and walked out — and this, you won’t believe: some of these bastards free early on release are being allowed to take foreign holidays while still on licence! Apparently, the bloody Government dropped a long-standing ban on overseas leisure travel for those under supervision. One probation officer was at his wits’ end.’
Langton yawned. Lewis turned over a few pages in his notebook.
‘He said thousands of offenders, including rapists and armed robbers, are out there, fucking enjoying themselves abroad, while technically serving out their sentence on probation — even though there is no indication that foreign authorities are even being informed! One of the staff said it was getting harder to keep a check on the occupants, as many did not speak English. Did you know that in the press recently, there was a bloody illegal immigrant working as a security guard at the Old Bailey, despite having been jailed for crimes and deported twice! He’d got fake birth certificates, and he was often on duty guarding the main entrance to the Central Criminal Court, which has countless terrorism trials—’
‘For Chrissakes, get on with your bloody report!’ snapped Langton.
‘Sorry, Gov. Okay, we know that Vernon Kramer had Arthur Murphy hiding out in his room at his hostel. We checked at the same hostel for Rashid Burry; they said he was a friend of one of the residents. We also have a Rashid Burry listed by a Hounslow hosteclass="underline" one of Burry’s friends there, another resident, is a real dangerous psychopath. Four weeks ago, he cut off his tag and has not been traced. To date, we have no previous prison record on Rashid Burry, so we can only presume he was visiting; he seems to have come and gone as he felt like it. It’s possible he was dealing drugs.’
Mike Lewis sat down. Langton said nothing; he just watched as an officer marked up the board with even more names.
Harry Blunt was next up. ‘I was with Mike at the Hounslow place, but got bogged down with the time it took to get anything out of these hostel officials, so I talked to a young kid on community service. I think this may be a very valuable link.’
Langton sat with his hand resting across his face. Anna watched him wince with pain and yet again rub his knee.
Harry pointed to the board. ‘The kid told me about a resident who came for a short time to do community service. He said this bloke was a real freak and, whilst he was there, bragged about how he had access to hundreds of fake documents, from passports, to work permits, to visas. His name is Clinton Camorra and I reckon he is that psychopath — the same bloke that Mike Lewis was informed about.’
Langton looked up, listening intently now.
Harry continued. ‘Clinton Camorra was detained in 2000, suspected of smuggling hundreds of illegal immigrants into the UK, many of them children, but because of the deportation fiasco he is still at large. He was jailed for four years for people-trafficking and was also quizzed over a ritual killing of a six-to-seven-year-old boy whose body was found in a bin-liner in Regent’s Canal. On his early release, the authorities put him in the same hostel with Vernon Kramer where, as we know, Rashid Burry was also a visitor. The lad said that Camorra was living in or around the Peckham area. When I checked his record, he first came to the UK in 1997, using the name Rashid Camorra.’
Langton shook his head. ‘This is bloody mind-blowing. How many Rashids do we have, for Chrissakes?’
‘It was probably a fake name. When Camorra was on trial, the judge sent him down for four years, and ordered his deportation to Nigeria!’
Harry picked up the black felt-tipped pen and wrote in capital letters the name Clinton Camorra (in brackets, also known as Rashid Camorra), then he underlined the name.
‘As Rashid Camorra, he claimed he had fled war-ravaged Sierra Leone. He was granted asylum. Now they have checked out that he was actually from Benin City, Nigeria.’ He looked to Langton and apologized for being so long-winded, but felt that the details were important.