Chapter 45
Lauren motions for him to keep his voice down. The door to her office is closed – she’s keeping this latest information on a strictly need-to-know basis – but who knows who might be in the corridor? Given the speed with which the original story reached the press, Lauren’s not taking any chances.
‘Stores say all the officers who resigned or retired handed in full kit,’ Kenric says, ‘including stab vests.’ He checks his notes. ‘They’ve registered eighteen destroyed because of damage or contamination, and another thirty-seven due to wear and tear.’
‘Eighteen, thirty-seven, seven hundred . . .’ Fraser blows out his cheeks. ‘We’re just throwing numbers around – it doesn’t mean anything.’
‘It does if one of these officers matches the description of one of our fake cops.’ Lauren turns to Kenric.
‘Ask stores to run an audit via line managers. Say it’s a resilience exercise .
. . that we need to know who could feasibly deploy if we need to boost the frontline.
’ It doesn’t feel too far from the truth.
Tensions have been simmering across the country since the murder; if the public finds out that one of the fake cops was actually a real one, there’ll be full-scale riots.
She presses the heels of her hands against the headache forming at her temples.
‘Vetting!’ she says suddenly. ‘Kenric, I want all these officers’ recruitment files looked at.
Make sure they were properly vetted when they joined, and flag anyone who might have slipped through the net.
’ Her temples throb. ‘Fraser and I need to get back to custody.’
In stark contrast to his brother, Peter Fletcher starts talking before they’re even in the interview room. ‘I’d never have got involved if I’d known—’
‘Whoa . . .’ Lauren puts up a hand. ‘Hold your horses, mate, let’s get the tape rolling, shall we?
Don’t want to have to do this twice.’ She waits for Fraser to record – both of them looking for the confirmatory red light – before cautioning Peter and reminding him of the reasons for his arrest. She rests her forearms on the table and leans forward.
‘Peter, why don’t you tell us what happened on December 1st? ’
Peter glances at his solicitor, who gives a brief nod, then he turns back to Lauren and Fraser. ‘I knew it was bad, but I didn’t know how bad until afterwards.’
Lauren feels a surge of emotion – a mix of excitement and relief – but she simply makes a few notes on her pad, not wanting to put Peter off.
‘They said there’d been an accident, and some bloke had died. Not murder.’ Peter squeezes his fingers together. ‘They didn’t say it was murder.’
‘Who is “they”?’ Fraser says.
‘Damian got a phone call. A mate of his. Alan.’
Alan. The teacher Jamie had mentioned when he’d reported the assault on the homeless man?
‘Damian said he owed Alan a favour, and we had to do it, or Damian would get into trouble over something on his computer.’
Interesting. In Lauren’s experience, when people talk about something on a computer, there’s only one something they mean. She will take great delight in passing this information to the Child Exploitation and Online Protection team to wipe the smug grin off Damian Fletcher’s face.
‘What favour did he want from you?’
‘He wanted us to collect the body and . . .’ Peter looks at the floor. ‘Get rid of it.’ His voice has dropped to a whisper.
‘And did you?’
Peter nods.
‘How?’
‘We buried it in the woods.’
‘Peter.’ Fraser takes over. ‘Have you heard of an organization called New Dawn?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure? Think carefully.’
‘I’m sure.’ Peter chews his bottom lip.
‘You’ve never heard anyone say those words to you? New Dawn.’
‘DS Hogan, my client has answered your question.’ The solicitor’s tone carries a warning; Fraser’s gone in too hard. Lauren looks at him, trying to convey that she wants them to tread carefully, that Peter’s already giving them what they need. They can’t afford for him to close down now.
‘New Dawn is a far-right extremist group,’ Lauren explains. ‘We believe Alan is working with them, and it’s very important we find him. Do you understand?’
Peter nods.
‘Great.’ Lauren smiles reassuringly. ‘Tell me everything you know about him.’
‘Alan Ellis.’ Lauren looks around the office at the same group of people who had gathered earlier that afternoon.
‘ICT teacher at Millfield Academy, where he’s listed as also being responsible for pastoral care.
’ She turns her laptop around and shows them a website featuring a white man with thinning hair and an even thinner smile. ‘Let’s bring him in.’
‘Apologies for stepping out of my pay grade, but – ’ Fraser looks between Lauren and DI Stratman ‘ – could we put him under surveillance first?’
‘New Dawn’s planned attack could only be few days away,’ Lauren says.
‘Exactly. If Ellis goes no comment, we’re left with whatever we can get from interrogating his phone, and all that will take time.’ Fraser pauses. ‘And we don’t have time. But we know he’s an active member of New Dawn. If we follow him for a couple of days, he could lead us straight to the others.’
Stratman nods slowly. ‘I’ll put in a request for the surveillance team.’
‘Hang on,’ Lauren says. ‘I’m not comfortable delaying this arrest. We’re talking about a terrorist attack that could kill or maim dozens – maybe even hundreds – of people.
Do you seriously want to explain to a grieving relative why we didn’t arrest someone we knew was involved in the planning of it? ’
‘We could easily end up talking to grieving relatives for another reason if we bring Ellis in too early and he doesn’t give us anything.’ Stratman’s gaze is challenging. ‘Twenty-four hours,’ he says. ‘Then we review.’
Lauren knows the plan makes sense, but all her instincts are telling her to act swiftly. ‘Twenty-four hours,’ she concedes. ‘Then we bring him in.’