He stopped speaking. He’d said as much as he wanted to say. No form of persuasion in his repertoire was going to work.
On an impulse, he snapped his fingers. The prisoner blinked.
‘You’re not deaf, then.’ To Halliwell, who had also jerked in his chair, he said, ‘Still awake, I see.’
Halliwell drew himself up, ready to leave.
Diamond made a restraining gesture with his levelled hand. ‘Do you know if Jack Gull tried any foreign languages?’
‘I doubt if Mr. Gull knows any, guv.’
‘That’s probably true, and the English he knows isn’t exactly the Queen’s. If this guy is a foreign national, we’re supposed to find an interpreter and his consulate has to be informed.’
Unexpectedly the prisoner became animated again, shaking his head and making sweeping movements with his handcuffed arms.
‘Hey, fellow,’ Diamond said, ‘what’s this about? What did I say wrong? Interpreter? Consulate?’
If anything, the negative gestures redoubled.
‘You understood something I said,’ Diamond said. ‘What’s your name? Where are you from?’
Too much to expect. But at least some form of communication was established. The man was watching Diamond and listening intently.
‘Whoever he is,’ Diamond said to Halliwell, ‘he isn’t keen on his government knowing about it. I’m wondering if we have an asylum seeker here.’
‘Funny way to seek asylum, murdering three policemen,’ Halliwell said.
‘But worth following up.’
The prisoner was returned to the cells. Diamond learned from the custody sergeant that several languages had been tried on the clam-like young man and brought no response.
‘Well, it took a long time, but he made one thing clear to us,’ Diamond said. ‘If he’s on the run from his country it may explain why he’s saying nothing.’
Jack Gull was called to the custody suite.
‘It’s becoming clear he’s a foreigner without much English,’ Diamond said, ‘but there’s more to it. Even if you don’t follow the language, you co-operate. You’d understand when you’re being asked your name. Why is he withholding his identity?’
‘He’s a fucking killer giving nothing away, that’s why,’ Gull said.
‘He could be more scared of his own people than he is of British justice. What if he arrived here like plenty of illegals have, in a container lorry, and is on the run?’
‘Doesn’t explain how he gets hold of a G36 and why he goes on a killing spree,’ Gull said.
‘All right, suppose he was rounded up soon after arriving and sent to a detention centre to be repatriated.’
‘Removal centre,’ Polehampton said. ‘They changed the name. The words “detention centre” were thought to be offensive.’
‘Strike a light, what are we coming to?’ Diamond said. ‘To my ear, “removal centre” sounds a whole lot more sinister. Call it what you will, he’d mix with all sorts there. Some of them would know where a weapon can be bought. And we’ve all heard of break-outs and detainees escaping.’
‘He’ll have been photographed and fingerprinted if he was detained,’ Gull said. ‘That’s compulsory. He would have shown up when we ran the check.’
‘It’s still worth checking on recent breakouts. Didn’t a bunch of people escape from one of those places last year?’
‘I’ll get onto the UK Border Agency, see if they can throw any light. But no one has explained to me why he shoots cops.’
‘Did you look into his eyes?’
‘How could I not?’
Diamond didn’t say so, but there are some things a senior detective has to work out for himself.
‘One thing nobody has mentioned is what happens when we charge this guy,’ Keith Halliwell said in the incident room.
Diamond frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘If he still withholds his name, what’s the legal position? Can we actually charge an unknown man?’
‘Fair point. I’d need to think about that.’
‘And if he isn’t charged, and the custody clock runs out, are we compelled to release him?’
‘No way. We can’t let a serial killer walk free when we know the forensic evidence is watertight.’
‘You say that, guv, but is it lawful?’
‘Off-hand, I can’t say. It’s been a heavy day. Do me a favour, Keith.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Don’t mention this to John Leaman. Or Ingeborg.’ He stifled a yawn. ‘I’m bushed. With the killer under lock and key, I think we can safely get an early night.’
‘I’ll second that.’ Halliwell switched his computer to the sleep function. ‘There was good news from the hospital this afternoon. Ken Lockton has recovered consciousness. They think he’ll make a full recovery.’
‘Thank God for that.’ Diamond hesitated. ‘I hardly dare ask.’
‘Does he remember what happened? No, guv. No memory at all. Concussion does that sometimes.’
‘Too much to expect. We don’t get many breaks, do we, Keith?’
‘There is one thing before you go. I dealt with the mail as you asked.’
‘What do you want — a pat on the back?’
Halliwell grinned. That would be a rare event.
‘I haven’t looked into my office,’ Diamond said. ‘No problems, I hope.’
‘All very straightforward, guv. Three quarters of it was junk, and the rest I could cope with.’
‘What’s the thing you wanted to mention, then?’
‘It’s on your desk. An envelope marked “personal”. I didn’t like to open it.’
‘In case it was from an old flame of mine? More junk, I expect. Or someone wanting money.’ He remembered seeing the envelope the previous day. ‘I’ll pick it up, then.’
He went through to the office.
His desk hadn’t looked so tidy for at least a week. Just that one letter remained in the in-tray. He picked it up. Detective Diamond — PERSONAL. The sender didn’t seem to know his rank or initials. The white self-seal envelope had obviously been put through a printer.
He opened it and withdrew the slip of paper it contained.
Short and to the point: YOU’RE NEXT.
27
He invited Paloma over. If he didn’t speak to someone outside the CID fishbowl, he wouldn’t get much sleep. In case she got the idea that romance was in prospect, he warned her it was cheese and cream crackers and there was a reason why he didn’t want to go out for a meal.
She arrived with a bottle of kaolin and morphine. ‘I heard what you were saying, and I think I know what this is about,’ she told him. ‘This is an old-fashioned remedy and really effective.’
‘I don’t have diarrhoea,’ he said. ‘I prefer to eat in tonight, that’s all. I’ve opened a bottle of Merlot. I’m touched by your kind thought, but mine has a better flavour than yours.’
‘Mine may have a better kick,’ she said.
‘And it could still come in useful,’ he said.
She had also called at the cleaner’s and collected the first of his two suits. He was going to need it in the morning.
He showed her the ‘You’re Next’ note and a shiver went through her. She didn’t need telling about the similar one found in Harry Tasker’s card-wallet. They’d discussed it when he was feeling bruised after the team meeting a couple of days before.
‘But I heard on the car radio that you arrested someone.’
‘We have,’ he said, ‘and all the evidence shows he’s the sniper. This looks to me like a practical joke.’
She was appalled. ‘Joke?’
‘Black humour. It’s a police thing. No one is immune from it. I dish it out sometimes and I must expect it back.’