Chapter 49
DS Renton was waiting in the dark room for us.
‘It’s going to be a long night,’ I told him as Laura and I entered, closing the door behind us.
‘I gathered,’ he said. ‘What do we have?’
‘The General.’
We took our seats beside him at the computer, and I explained what James Miller had told us in the interview after he’d calmed down. When he learned about how he’d been betrayed – about the letters and the video clip – he proved suddenly far more eager to talk.
‘Miller says he was contacted by the user The_General after he posted the animal video on the shock site. This guy apparently said he was a great admirer of his work and wanted to see more. And he had a proposition for him.’
‘A proposition?’
‘Twenty snuff movies,’ I said. ‘That was what he wanted. The plan was for Miller to film the murders. The General would pay him a thousand pounds for each clip.’
‘What for?’
‘To sell them.’
Renton shook his head. ‘There’s no such thing.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘But it seems that the General wanted to change that situation, or that’s what he told Miller. He said he was based overseas – a big name in the pornography world who wanted to remain anonymous. Said he already had a string of buyers lined up for the films.’
‘I doubt that’s true.’
‘Me too.’
I didn’t believe it for one second, in fact.
Whatever the General’s real motivation, I was certain the story he’d given James Miller was just a bluff: a cover to convince the boy.
There was never going to be any distribution of snuff movies.
And I was equally sure the General wouldn’t turn out to be based overseas.
No – he lived here, in our city. That was where the letters had been sent from, after all.
A code even you won’t be able to crack.
His communications to us were personal; they didn’t involve James Miller.
The boy was just a tool he’d been using to create his pattern.
All along, the ‘code’, whatever that meant, had been unknown even to Miller.
How did that satisfy the General’s stated aims, assuming they were genuine?
I didn’t know. Clearly, in some way it did.
‘Is there any way of listing all the General’s postings on the website?’
‘Shouldn’t be a problem.’ Renton set the site loading. ‘A hell of a risk, isn’t it? From Miller’s perspective, I mean. Someone contacts him out of the blue with a suggestion like that, and he just takes them at their word?’
‘He says the General paid him five thousand in advance, no strings attached. The idea was to show goodwill, but it was carefully worded. Miller could take the money and walk away, no questions asked, no laws broken. But he didn’t.’
Renton tapped on the keyboard. ‘We’ve got his laptop. It’s with IT upstairs. There should be records of a lot of this if we can get to it.’
‘We’ve got Miller’s password,’ I said. ‘Only problem is, he says he deleted the messages at the General’s request.’
‘And these message are stored online, not locally. Once they’re gone, they’re gone. Here we are, anyway. The General.’
The screen was filled with the results of the username search he’d performed: all the posts made by the General. There weren’t many. And they all read more or less the same. Variations on: Great work! Can’t wait to see more!
‘Looks like he’s never posted any footage himself,’ Renton said. ‘All he’s ever done is express his appreciation for other people’s pictures and videos.’
‘Fishing.’
That fitted with what I was thinking. Miller was probably one of many users the General had initially targeted. He’d probably figured this site was a good place to find the kind of man he needed, and he’d been right.
‘Where is he from?’ I said. ‘Any way of telling?’
Renton pulled up the General’s profile.
‘Not really. He hasn’t filled any information in. No personal details, no country of origin. It wouldn’t help us much anyway.’
‘Why not?’
‘People can put whatever they want. The site doesn’t base the location directly on IP addresses or anything. If it did, none of these people would be able to say that they came from “The Depths of Hell”, which half of them do.’
I peered at the screen.
‘Any way to access his account?’
I already knew the answer.
‘Not his, no.’ Renton shook his head. ‘No way. For the same reason we couldn’t access Miller’s: the site owners would never co-operate, even if we could pin them down. What’s Miller’s password?’
I gave it to him, and he logged in as Jimmy82. Miller had been telling the truth about that much, at least. Renton clicked a few links and pulled up his message history.
‘Empty.’
So maybe he was telling the truth about that too.
Renton leaned back in his chair. ‘I’ve never heard of anything like this before.’
‘No.’
‘Have you considered the possibility that he’s lying through his teeth? Making all this up?’
‘Yes.’
Miller was caught, and he knew there was no way out. As proud as he seemed of the killings, it would make sense to try to lay the blame at the feet of someone else – psychologically if nothing else. Or perhaps he was playing with us in some way I couldn’t guess right now.
‘But it feels too elaborate,’ I said. ‘It’s not the kind of story he’d just make up on the spot, and it would take too much effort for him to have set it up in advance.’
And there was, again, the matter of the letters.
Miller’s reaction to them had seemed genuine.
He’d been shocked, and, as dangerous and vicious as he came across, I didn’t think he was that good an actor.
I was willing to bet he hadn’t known about them: that someone else had written and sent them, without his knowledge, and that person had to have got hold of the video somehow.
Plus, the story fitted with the contents of the letters too.
The details in the first, for example, had been noticeably scant – back when the General wouldn’t have known anything specific.
It was only after Miller started supplying him with the videos that he’d been able to include more detail, and even send us a copy of one of the clips and pass it off as his own.
But why?
That was the question.
‘How did Miller send the clips?’ Renton said. ‘We might be able to track that. Did he email them?’
‘No. Too risky, apparently. This guy arranged for a locker in a storage unit in the centre of the city, near the railway station. They both had keys. A local courier for the General – supposedly – would deposit the money there and pick up the CDs Miller left.’
‘How did Miller get the key?’
‘By post. He burned the envelope, so once again, we can’t prove it for sure. But we found the key in his bedroom, along with a good chunk of money.’
And that was our one glimmer of hope.
Miller had said he’d deposited a bundle of CDs last night.
News of his arrest was being kept strictly under wraps, and plain clothes officers were en route to the storage unit right now.
We would join them shortly. The plan was to keep the area under discreet surveillance and see who, if anybody, came to the locker.
There was a chance – just a small chance – that the General, whoever he was, might show up.
‘That’s good,’ Renton said, ‘because as things stand you won’t get him from his account here.’
‘No.’
I thought of the locker at the train station. Was that our only hope?
‘No,’ I said again. ‘But we will get him.’