‘Voodoo.’
‘Voodoo,’ repeated Langton flatly.
‘Yeah. I mean, I think it’s a load of tosh, but they don’t, so he’s got them, like I said, by the short and curlies. That’s how he survives; lives like a fucking prince.’
‘So you’ve met him?’
Vernon’s eyes flickered.
‘Come on, Vernon. You’ve been straight with us so far — give it up.’
‘I want to get out of here, into Ford, somewhere like that — an open prison. I mean, the inmates here have ears that can pick up anything, and they know I’ve been brought to be interviewed.’
‘Do you think that Murphy talked?’ Langton wanted to change the subject to calm Vernon down; he was twisting and turning in his chair.
‘Yeah, I think he opened his mouth about Camorra, and maybe he said it to the wrong guy, I dunno.’ Vernon leaned forwards. ‘I heard that the kid that knifed him is in a voodoo trance — so it’s obvious, isn’t it? Camorra even got strong arms in the nick over there, see what I mean? You got to protect me.’
Langton nodded. ‘Okay, listen to me, Vernon, this is the deal, and I give you my word. I am being dead straight with you. I’ll talk to the prison Governor and I’ll get you moved to Ford, but there is one condition.’
Vernon sighed. ‘There’s nothing else. I swear I have told you everything — I swear it on my mother’s life.’
‘Very well, it’s a deal — if you give us the whereabouts of Camorra.’
Vernon swore he did not know. Langton said, in that case, there was no deal. Vernon was shaking with nerves, but eventually told them that he did not know the address, he only knew Camorra lived somewhere in Peckham.
‘So, did you go to his house?’
Vernon admitted that he had met Camorra at his home. Rashid had taken him there in a car with blacked-out windows. He was blindfolded, and he had his hands tied with electric wire. Not until he was inside the house was the blindfold removed. He described the house as a big double-fronted one, but had no idea which street; he knew the house was big, because there was a double garage, and they had walked from there into the house down a long hallway. He had never seen Camorra’s face, as he wore a white hood with eyeholes cut out. Camorra had questioned him about the arrest of Arthur Murphy, trying to find out if there was any connection to himself. Vernon had explained that Murphy was charged with the murder of Irene Phelps and needed to get out of the country fast.
‘He made these threats to me: said if there was so much as a whisper about his connections, I would pay for it. He said that I should also get word to Arthur to keep his mouth shut, and warn Sickert to do the same thing.’
‘Did you warn Sickert?’
‘Yeah. I think Rashid also give him a warning.’
‘Do you think that Camorra was involved with the murder of Gail and her child?’
‘I don’t know.’
Vernon then began to cry, blubbering that now he’d told them everything, he was scared to go back on the wing. Langton opened the interview-room door and asked the officer to take him out. He then returned to the table and picked up his notes and briefcase. Anna stood up as the very frightened Vernon was led into the corridor by the officer.
‘You’ll keep the deal?’ Vernon said.
Langton didn’t answer, but checked his watch. They heard Vernon swearing and calling him a lying bastard as he was taken back to the wing.
‘You going to ask about moving him?’ Anna enquired.
Langton shrugged. ‘I’ll think about it.’ He then took a bottle of water from his briefcase, and a bottle of pills.
‘You monitoring how many you take a day?’ she asked.
Langton looked up, stared at her, then turned away. Sometimes he sent chills up her spine with that look: cold, dismissive, hurt.
She had hardly said two words during the long interrogation of Vernon; she had never really been given the incentive. Langton had controlled it from the moment Vernon walked in; he now said nothing as they were led back to the prison reception to sign out.
‘What about Vernon?’ she asked again, tentatively.
‘What about him?’
‘Well, he’s spilled the beans. He could get hurt.’
‘Break my heart. He’s a snivelling, lying piece of garbage; he’s preyed on little kids all his life. A few years, he’ll be free to keep up his sick fantasies. That’s more of a worry to me than what happens to him in there. I hope he gets his dick sliced off.’
Langton eased himself into the passenger seat of the patrol car, Anna taking up her usual position in the back. He suddenly turned and grinned at her.
‘Did good in there; opened that little prick up. This Camorra is looking like a prime target.’ He turned back to stare out of the window as he gave their driver instructions to head back to the incident room. ‘Let’s hope the boys have some luck tracing him. It shouldn’t be too difficult.’
Anna sat back in the car, her mind churning over the interview with Vernon Kramer. Their investigation centred on the murder of Gail Sickert and her child, yet Langton had hardly even referred to it as his main priority.
She leaned forwards. ‘Have they completed the forensic search at the Sickert place?’
‘Yes, no further evidence.’
‘You mean no other bodies.’
‘Correct.’
‘So the two children and Sickert—’
She was interrupted as he turned to face her. ‘They are somewhere; just God knows where.’
‘I realize that, but it’s just I feel the investigation is sort of…’ She trailed off as she tried to find the right words.
‘Sort of what?’ he demanded.
‘Well, we are now focusing on this Camorra character, so you must think there is more than just a connection, but we’re going in so many different directions.’
He sighed. ‘Yes.’
‘Maybe Camorra did bring Sickert in; we know he’s possibly involved in Murphy’s murder. This Rashid Burry character seems to be some kind of go-between: he links to Murphy and Vernon and Sickert, but we still have two missing children, and we still have no sighting of Sickert.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ he asked quietly.
‘I’m not suggesting anything. All I am saying is, we seem to have lost focus, and the hours spent attempting to trace Rashid Burry and Camorra should be spent on a bigger manhunt for the kids.’
‘Why don’t you try to piece the jigsaw together, Anna?’
‘What jigsaw? The facts are, we have two young children with Sickert; we have Gail and her baby dead! It stands to reason that we have to step up the search.’
‘What do you think I’m doing?’ Langton asked. ‘Ignoring the missing kids? Is that what you think?’
‘No, I never said that. I just said that maybe all this added search for Rashid and Camorra is taking the focus off—’ She should have known that she’d be interrupted again.
‘Really? Well, think about it: sit back and think how it all links together. Camorra is at the top of the pile: he instigated bringing in Sickert to the UK. Rashid fixes up medication and false papers for him.’
‘Do you think Sickert’s taken the kids out of the country?’
‘You tell me. Where would he go, on the run, with no money?’
‘What if he was given money by Rashid, as well as his papers?’
‘So Sickert wanders off to the airport with two white kids; you think Camorra also got passports for them? Think! No way. The biggest lead to the children and to Sickert has to be Camorra; if Sickert was going anywhere, it would be to him. Camorra trades in bringing in children, Anna; if they are anywhere, they will be in his claws.’ At that moment, Langton broke off, leaned forwards and had a coughing fit. His whole body shook; he seemed unable to get his breath. The driver asked if he wanted him to pull over and Langton shook his head, but his face was red and he was sweating as he gasped for air.