‘I hope to Christ you get to the point soon,’ Langton said.
Harry ignored him. ‘If we lose the name Rashid,’ he went on, ‘and go back to what I think may be his real name, Clinton — well, it’s widely known that Clinton Camorra is a voodoo enthusiast. It’s a bit more than just playing around: he apparently terrified the prisoners, and at the hostel, he threatened anyone who got in his way.’
Now Langton was 100 per cent attentive. Harry passed over the mug shots taken of Camorra after his arrest, to be pinned up on the board. Camorra was quite light-skinned and rather handsome, his lips parted in a faint smile, and with dark, hooded, wide-apart eyes.
‘When he was in jail, the team investigating the murder of the boy found in the bin-liner questioned him. They came away certain that he was involved somehow; they suspected that the kid had got into the country illegally and was used in some kind of voodoo ceremony. They got nothing from Camorra, but his reputation in the prison was pumped up. He lived like a prince, and if he didn’t get what he wanted from any of the prisoners, he would threaten them.’
Langton looked at the board, and turned back to Harry. He was very tense. ‘Good work. Do we have any idea where this Camorra bastard is now?’
‘All I know from the boy at the hostel is that he was somewhere in Peckham, and with a lot of money.’
The murmuring team started to discuss the new developments as Langton, Harry, Lewis and Anna grouped together by the board. Langton stared at Camorra’s face. Something in that smirk made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.
He spoke softly, tapping the photograph. ‘If we say that this Camorra guy smuggled Sickert into the country, he would have a hold over him. If he was also in the same hostel as Vernon Kramer, where Murphy was hiding out, we have the links. Maybe Murphy found out something and that’s the reason he got his throat slit?’
Anna agreed, and interjected that it also meant the two missing children were now in an even worse situation — if that was possible.
Langton underlined the importance of trying to trace the call made from Parkhurst prison if it was, as he now suspected, to Camorra. Langton also gave out the orders to track down Camorra and Rashid Burry, and to pump out the press on Sickert. He reckoned that, with Sickert being so ill, he would be the easiest to trace. Although if the wanted men had someone with access to fake documentation, they could be anywhere and using God knows how many different names.
But at least, and at last, the murder team were moving forwards again.
The duty manager was assigning details of the work to be done to each officer as Anna sat at her desk, waiting for her assignment for the day. Langton had returned to his office. He looked dreadfuclass="underline" in need of a shave and with sunken eyes. She wondered if Mike Lewis had been right about him popping painkillers to keep going. She could see how much discomfort he was in, and his limp was very pronounced.
She was not given a schedule so, confused, went and knocked on Langton’s office door. She was in two minds whether or not to disturb him, so waited a while before she knocked again.
‘Come in,’ Langton said irritably.
‘Sorry, but I’ve not had my schedule, and—’
‘We go back to Vernon Kramer after the press interviews.’
‘Okay. We doing them at Wandsworth?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. When you’re ready.’
‘Gimme fifteen minutes and I’ll be out.’
She nodded and quietly closed the door. She was very concerned. He was taking something, it was obvious; his pupils were like pinholes and he was shaking — she could tell by the cigarette between his fingers.
As Anna returned to her desk, Harry was passing, and she said, ‘Good work, Harry.’
‘Thanks. I thought I’d just go and have a jar with the Gov.’
‘I wouldn’t. I think he’s busy with the press reports.’
‘Oh, okay.’ He hesitated, and looked around. ‘Mind if I ask you something?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Is it my imagination, but isn’t he kind of playing down the fact that this guy Camorra and this Rashid Burry might have been involved in his attack?’
Anna bit her lip and then shrugged. ‘I think if they were, the Gov wouldn’t play it down, Harry — on the contrary.’
‘Yeah, right; it was just a thought. See you later — I’m off to Peckham! See if we can trace this bastard Camorra.’
Anna watched him head out, and sighed uneasily. She was certain Langton was playing down the importance of the Camorra connection, and she knew why, but it was nevertheless worrying.
Langton waited for the shakes to stop, smoking one cigarette after the other. His head was throbbing, his knee agony and he had pains across his chest. It had taken so much willpower to stand for so long in the incident room, but it had taken even more when the mug shot of Camorra was pinned up on the board. Langton had hardly been able to control his emotions. Camorra was, he was becoming sure, the man who had attacked him, the man who had almost sliced him in two — and the physical shock of that recognition had hit him like a terrible panic attack. It took him half an hour to calm down. He picked up his electric razor and shaved, then drank a bottle of water before he felt capable of leaving his office.
‘Right Travis, let’s go!’
Anna hurried after him; as always, he never ceased to amaze her. She had been taken aback at how ill he had looked earlier, but now he seemed refreshed and energized. If he was popping pills, then he must obviously need them: the question was, how many and how often? She had no idea how much he was relying on them, and what he was suppressing with their help. It had taken all his willpower to allow Harry and Mike Lewis to begin to trace Camorra rather than do it himself, but when they did, Langton would have him.
Chapter Eleven
Vernon Kramer was brought into the interview room in handcuffs. Langton said they could be removed. The officer asked if they needed him to stay in the room. Langton said that it would not be necessary; he was surprised that Kramer was even wearing handcuffs.
‘You been acting up, have you, Vernon?’ he asked.
‘You got no right to keep comin’ in to see me. I done nothing and you know it.’
Langton waited until the officer left the room; he would be outside in the corridor if required.
‘You can have a solicitor present if you want,’ Langton said.
‘What for?’
‘You might need one.’
‘Listen, I’m not rocking my fucking boat. I got done in ’cos of breakin’ my friggin’ parole. I done nothin’ but help you, an’ being taken off the wing all the time gets me into trouble. I’m no fucking grass.’
‘Was your pal Murphy one?’
Vernon swallowed and the sweat started forming beads on his forehead. ‘I dunno what went on with him; I just want to serve my time and get out.’
‘Well, Vernon, you might be in for a lot longer than your sentence.’
Vernon’s jaw dropped. ‘What the fuck for?’
‘You heard about one of the prisoners that cut Murphy’s throat?’
Vernon shook his head.
‘You don’t know?’
‘All I know is, Arthur got sliced.’
‘How did you find that out?’
‘In the nick, there’s a lot of guys who know what goes on. Just because they’re banged up, don’t mean that they don’t make contact with the outside world. If you gimme two hundred quid, I can get me own mobile.’
‘So tell me what you know about the murder of your friend Arthur.’