“Not really, but we can’t just sit on our backside while Bradstock’s people try to fix the leak. The only thing I feel certain about is that Frank wants dialogue; merely publishing to the anonymous world of the net won’t do it for him. In retrospect I agree with Sir Nigel, let him come to us. It’s a sad day when I admit to being on the same page as Bradstock. We can keep on throwing a few possibilities around, and when Eva gets here, let her pick up the profiling side. Why don’t you go and see how Sam is getting on with missing persons? I’ll speak to Donoghue again.” The phone rang. “Renton.” He was a little uneasy about what C.C. Cousins was about to say. In fact it was good news. The delegation from London had already concluded that the breach point was not in the Northeast. Consequently, Middleton and Jennings were departing to reinforce the effort back in London. They left Charles Welling to act as a reference point in overseeing any recommendations which might be advised from the Capital.
*
Ben Adams eventually found his way to the owner of the coffin maker in a rundown industrial park in Leeds. Cyril Ashton was a proud man, and painted in the short history of the family business which had survived for three generations, considerably longer than any of their deceased clients. Ashton confirmed their stamp matched the one in Adams’ photo. He retrieved the ledger and quickly found the actual delivery address. Each unit of production had a code which identified the base wood, model, date of manufacture, quality assessment, shipping address and name of the customer. Ben Adams’ pulse quickened and then stabilised when the delivery address was in Hull. He took all of the details from Cyril Ashton and set off along the M-62 to the East Coast.
“Sam, I’m heading for Humberside, so I probably won’t make it back tonight unless I find something crucial. Let Jack know that the actual coffin was sent to Hull.” As he sped along the motorway in his new Audi, his concentration wandered to Ashton’s explanation for the irregular chain of events from his factory to the eventual customer. Apparently this person had an ageing father who was in a euthanasia clinic in Switzerland. The old man had declared his wish to end his life this way while he was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease. His wife had already passed away and so the son, who was the customer for the coffin, had agreed to help his father die with whatever dignity he had left. They wanted a coffin of English Oak to be despatched from Hull to Ostend, and onward to the clinic for the return of the body. Ashton’s company would normally have taken care of the whole routing as part of their service, but this was not required, the customer said he wanted to make this journey with the casket personally, just as he would on the return. Ashton said he had authentic documentation to cover this.
Adams just knew he was going to find nothing in Hull to substantiate this explanation. He expected the customer name to be false. He decided to ring Sam again and ask him to check with the Swiss clinic as to whether they had dealt with a client by the name of Arnold Cranston, or the son Philip Cranston, in the past year. He pulled into a service station for a sandwich while Sam made the call and got back to him. Adams was still without a steady girlfriend and had actually succumbed to registering with a dating agency. He was paranoid about anyone finding out; he had always felt only really sad people got sucked into this kind of last resort. In fact the trigger for going this route was the mess Renton had made of his life. Detectives in the modern police force were pretty dysfunctional people, perpetually confronted with the seedy side of life, and unconsciously afflicted with a jaundiced personality aura in normal social circles. What woman in her right mind would put up with this, let alone want it? He mused about Renton having made great strides with Jane and Daniel in the last couple of years, yet he still lived apart from them because it worked better that way. Yeah right. He wanted more than that, and without the intervening years of misery. His phone rang. “Ben you were right, the clinic has never heard of Arnold or Philip Cranston. Do you want me to check on anything else?”
“No, I’ll still continue to Hull and check the delivery address for the coffin. Presumably it had to go somewhere when it was unloaded from the lorry. It could be a place for forensics to look at. I’ll call you back.”
*
Renton had picked up Eva Roberts from the airport and asked Stephanie to join them in his office. Eva immediately noticed the makeover since her previous visit.
“Well this is a vast improvement Jack, and your filing system looks as if it actually belongs in your office.” Stephanie dropped her pen on the floor to take temporary refuge behind the desk, and regain control of her facial reflexes, thus preventing an embarrassing smile.
“It’s nice of you to say so, but I have to admit that I had nothing to do with it. My son came to the office one day and refused to drink his coffee in here because he was disoriented with the chaos, and more importantly, where to put down his cup. So we, Steph and I, did some spring cleaning. In all honesty, she designed the scheme and I said yes.” They were just about to begin when his phone rang. It was Frank. The tracing team were alerted and the call went to speakerphone.
“What is the verdict?” It was the first time Renton had been invited to speak.
“It can’t be approved. It’s the same protocol as would be applied for terrorism. I regret this and…”
“It may indeed be something you will come to regret. Don’t bother with the trace, goodbye.”
The call had injected apprehension of what would happen next. Barely five minutes had elapsed when Sam Gibson entered the office and said, “Best go into the system Sir, right away.”
A flashing message said ‘Update’ and clicking though the link took them to a site headed as ‘Frankie goes to Cyber-News’, to most people a harmless enough name. ‘As the police want to keep evidence to themselves, as usual, they have declined my offer to inform them before posting to sites like this. It is a strange decision since I am their source of that evidence. Those who are following the multiplicity of threads already on this case need to know that this is part of the justice system we are supposed to uphold with pride. In fact this is a good decision for you, because you will always be ahead of the police. There are already comments being exchanged that the Frankenstein case is more popular than video games such as Grand Theft Auto used to be. It is a different kind of excitement because although the outcome cannot be influenced by a single participant, mass comments will be evaluated and may be acted upon.’
Eva Roberts couldn’t resist a comment that this was a man with decisive confidence.
“He has acted immediately on your delivery of Bradstock’s edict. I wonder whether this characteristic may prove to be a weakness, let us hope so.” They didn’t have long to wait in order to re-engage with him. Renton did not try to speak.
“I will continue to use your Intranet to place data where all of your law enforcement people can see it at once. I am fairly certain that your gurus who are trying to fix the portal I created will have another objective – that of keeping certain elements which would normally be uploaded, off the system. I will therefore be in regular contact with you by audio. If you don’t want this, say so now, I will interpret silence as your affirmation of my proposal.” Two seconds later the phone went dead, and the tracing guys said Frank never seemed to exceed fifteen seconds and had obviously thought this through before making the first call. They asked Renton to try to intervene next time.
The phone rang once more. This was the call Jack Renton was dreading. He just did not know when it would come. It was Bradstock.
“Jack, we are making very slow progress here in London, in fact the way I normally judge things I’d say we are making no progress, but the experts tell me otherwise. So, instead of sitting on my thumbs, I have decided to come north and see how you are doing. I have already told Cousins I am on my way, respecting the chain of command, but it is your activity I want to observe. He’s fine with that as he is dealing with the press pretty much full time. Book me into a suitable hotel under your account, I don’t want the paparazzi runn
ing after me – low profile is best. I should arrive tomorrow afternoon.” Renton squirmed and yet dredged up an enthusiastic response.
“Ok Sir, I’ll make the hotel reservation for a flexible period. It’ll be good to hear about any progress the I.T. team have made, and we have managed to convince Eva Roberts to join us again, you know, the profiler you recommended two years ago.”
“Excellent decision Jack, see you tomorrow.” Sagging back into his chair, he uttered a string of profanities. Both Eva and Stephanie smirked at Renton’s outburst on hearing that his friend, ‘Sir Pain in the Arse’ was about to land.
*
Sam Gibson’s renowned patience was beginning to yield results with regard to the missing persons trawl. The two periods of 8-10 months and 4-8 weeks both had many instances of people reported missing, however most had since been updated as having been located. By overlaying the grid of age and gender he had eventually narrowed the number down dramatically. He decided to deal with them in a certain order because of the now accepted belief that the two young limbless males were somehow different and potentially more important in terms of motive. There were thirty-five possible matches to the age requirement for the armless corpse, but only two fitted the exact birth date and height for a 22 year-old man who had been over 6 feet tall. The first was listed as Rory Davenport, a student registered at Glasgow University, reading Philosophy and Politics. The second was named Jason Goldman from Cornwall, and he had previously been convicted several times for car theft. His status was noted as unemployed at the time of disappearance. The possible hits for the 18 year-old were more difficult to assess. Of the hundreds of 18 year-olds thrown up, six had the right birth date. One was eliminated because of a facial disfigurement – and the legless corpse clearly did not have such a feature. The remaining five were all reported missing from either London or Manchester. Sam decided to concentrate on Rory Davenport and Jason Goldman for now. His gut told him that if he could discover something significant about one of them it could produce a crack in the case which could then be exploited.
*
Ben Adams sat in his car in Hull and tried to piece together the information on the coffin acquisition, and where the gaps would take him. The delivery address he had from Cyril Ashton was unoccupied, with a ‘To Let’ board on display. A neighbour told him that it had been empty for almost a year, apart from a man who came on the odd occasion to check that everything was in order.
“He was about thirty or so, maybe slightly taller than me, I am 5ft. 10ins. He was white, clean-shaven, slim, and looked athletic; but his accent wasn’t similar to yours – not a ‘Geordie’. He was a pleasant fellow, always smiling. He said he had finished his course down here and was going back home for good. I don’t know if he was employed by the owner or estate agent to keep an eye on the place, but he didn’t live here.” Adams rang Cyril Ashton and asked if he could speak with the delivery driver and ask him to describe the person who signed for the coffin. The response confirmed what he suspected. The driver had pulled into the side of the road, expecting to be met with another vehicle ready to transport the goods on to the ferry. In fact the recipient had stated the vehicle was delayed and asked the Ashton driver to take him to his lock-up. The man did fit with the neighbour’s description. He claimed that he had no garage and he did not want the coffin in the house, and they could not wait with it in the street, so he had told the ferry collection service to come to the lock-up. Ashton’s driver had been happy to help him carry the casket into the empty storage unit as the man had given him a good tip. Adams headed for the Estate Agent. The owner of the property lived in Hull, and was seeking a new tenant because the previous one had gone abroad. He called Sam and asked him to check out the name of the tenant and just knew it would be false. He was correct. Benedict S Thurlow was not registered. “Ok, Sam I am on my way back.”
*
The DNA was taking some time because of the need to make sure they had it all. There was better news on the prints from the hiking boots. Trawling the internet stores had eventually produced a close match. The Chinese supplier was emailed photos and was able to confirm the brand as ‘Mountain Man’ and the type was ‘Atecana’. They also gave the forensics department their three UK distributors, who stocked many sporting footwear products, and were located in London, Manchester and Glasgow. Further enquiries revealed that the Manchester depot had supplied twelve outlets in the Northeast. Nine were initially ruled out because they had only stocked the extra-large size within the last month and they did not fit the extreme wear pattern indicated by the prints. The others were to be checked as soon as possible.
Chapter 4
“I’d love to go out to dinner Jane but I’ve got Bradstock on his way here, Eva Roberts – the profiler, has agreed to help us and she’s already here. This case is going to be very complex and time-intensive; it’s a perfect example of why I wanted to take the job in Statistics. You talked me out of it, remember?”
“Of course I do Jack. I just thought you might need a little company as a distraction. Don’t worry about it. Why not come over at the weekend, even if it’s just for a snack or a coffee? You still need to eat, and a short break often works wonders.”
He agreed and thanked her for her understanding, but warned that things were going to get more hectic with Bradstock’s penchant for inventing tasks that weren’t well thought through. He was right, but the urgency wasn’t from the Boss.
“You need to get the system up again Sir,” said Stephanie, “he’s back, just as he promised.” When the screen jumped from sleep mode there was only one thing to ponder. The revolving symbol was mesmerising.
.
They both stood in silence like goldfish, open-mouthed and vacant. Eva Roberts intruded into their trance.
“This is vaguely familiar. I’m almost certain I read about a case some years ago, in which this symbol was mentioned. I should look it up.” Stephanie snapped out of stasis and turned to her screen.
“It will be on the net, it will be quicker to Google it. Frank is all about the web, so it will be there.” She looked at the symbol again and hesitated.
“It is Alpha-Omega,” said Eva, “the letter A is the modern version of Alpha and the Omega is Greek.” There were hundreds of thousands of references on the web. The most common explanation revealed that the clue was indeed the selection of the first letter of the modern world alphabet and the last letter of the alphabet of the ancient Greek world. The intended message was ‘Beginning and End, spanning the era of true civilisation.’ Jack Renton was still imitating a goldfish. Eva ventured a suggestion.
“It could be intended in this context to mean the five bodies are the beginning and end, which would be good news. Alternatively, they could just be the first five of twenty-six. I think we should proceed very carefully with Frank, he doesn’t strike me as someone who compromises, and he acts quickly.”
Stephanie drew their attention to the fact that it was already on the net and the subject of hundreds of discussion threads. Renton’s mobile ringtone startled him.
“Oh no,” he began, and then he saw his son’s name flash up.
“Dad it’s me, Daniel. Have you seen the….”
“Yes I have, and I need you to keep your questions for your imaginary friends on the internet. I can’t discuss these things with you. I don’t want to be rude but you have to end this call. I’m coming over at the weekend, and look forward to seeing how you are doing then. Bye Daniel.” He felt quite upset that he had to be so short with his son, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Stephanie had continued with the searches and broke the moment of introspection.
“The Alpha-Omega symbol also has a religious association. It is a Christian connection – the coming of Jesus was the beginning and would reside with us for eternity – presumably the end.” Renton resumed his pragmatic attitude.
“Jesus eh, not another religious zealot I hope. I find these peop
le so difficult to understand.” His office phone rang.
“How do you like the new method of communication? The bloggers are doing your job for you. Check for yourself on cruc-efiction.com and you may learn something. I will be in touch.”
The two women heard this on speakerphone and Stephanie immediately got the site up. There was a fierce discussion going on across the ether. It was mainly centred on the atrocities of the Crusades, illustrating just how their legacy had fermented over time and almost became the religious equivalent of a cosmic singularity, where the laws of conventional reason broke down. Those observing, rather than participating in the discussion were better placed to see that this was developing into a Christian/Islamic war of words. There was a sidebar which had links to other sites discussing the significance of the symbol. Stephanie checked some of them out and the crusade theme was recurring, but others were emerging – taking the discourse back to the relevance to the corpse in the Priory. These particular threads were exploring the literal meaning of the symbol rather than any specific perceived extrapolation of it. Eva Robert’s idea of it focussing attention on the victims as a group was by far the most common thread. The overwhelming majority predicted that the group in the Priory was only the beginning. Others accused them of irresponsibly suggesting that their conclusion was what they thought should happen. All of a sudden, people were leaving these discussions, saying that something was going down on another site – maryshelley-fr.biz, and Stephanie managed to get on before it crashed. The same symbol was revolving, but around a ghoulish face. The rotation speed of the two were synchronised so that the face was always peering through or at the symbol. The word ‘link’ kept slowly forming out of computer generated dust followed by the same beautifully ordered crumbling back to dust. The comments flooded in, mostly claiming it was depicting ‘Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.’ The screen went black – crash.