A Killing Mind, page 40
part #5 of DI Sean Corrigan Series
‘I know a lot of people,’ Addis told him. ‘Many of whom owe me a favour or two. Let’s just say I called in one of those favours, so we could meet somewhere a bit more private.’
‘Very nice it is too,’ Jackson replied, ‘but couldn’t we have spoken over the phone?’
‘I don’t like to handle sensitive business over the phone,’ Addis explained. ‘Sometimes face to face is better, don’t you think?’
‘I thought I’d be dealing directly with DI Corrigan,’ Jackson ignored the question, knowing that Addis was letting him know he didn’t trust him.
‘DI Corrigan’s busy with other matters relating to the investigation,’ Addis explained, ‘and I thought it was time you and I talked.’
‘So,’ Jackson spread his arms wide, ‘here we are.’
Addis leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘We know you have the hostage footage of Dr Ravenni-Ceron.’
‘It was me that told Corrigan. So what of it?’
‘I need your word that you won’t release it to anyone in any way,’ Addis insisted, ‘and I mean anyone.’
‘I came by the film in the normal pursuit of being a journalist,’ Jackson pushed back, unwilling to be intimidated by anyone, even Addis. ‘It’s protected journalistic material. I could use it if I wanted to. You couldn’t touch me.’
‘Don’t quote the law to me, Jackson,’ Addis warned him. ‘Trust me – the law is very, very grey and I’m an expert at exploiting those grey areas. You’d be surprised how many people live in the grey world. I should imagine some very senior people connected to your newspaper can be found there who wouldn’t want to appear to be morally compromised. It would be unfortunate if I had to speak to them.’
‘I’m not going to use the footage,’ Jackson told him, swallowing his anger. ‘Unlike some people, I know the difference between what’s wrong and what’s right. The only person I ever put in harm’s way is me. You should have researched me properly, Mr Addis. I handed you that celebrity paedophile ring on a plate, but I never made a penny out of it. You should have seen what I was being offered to write the book or help make the documentary. So don’t preach to me about morals. I’m an investigative journalist. I expose the truth even when the establishment doesn’t want me to. Can you say the same?’
‘Sometimes it’s my job to protect the establishment,’ Addis replied, ‘but perhaps not today.’
‘What do you want from me?’ Jackson demanded.
‘Your cooperation,’ Addis smiled. ‘I need you to run the story that we are preparing to exchange Gibran for Dr Ravenni-Ceron.’
‘You’ll never be allowed to do that,’ Jackson argued. ‘Even Gibran has human rights. It’s impossible.’
‘And if I was to tell you we are going to make the exchange?’ Addis asked.
‘I wouldn’t believe you,’ Jackson answered.
‘But you’d run the story?’
‘No,’ Jackson insisted. ‘I’m not knowingly going to lie. I know you’re not going to exchange Gibran for Ceron.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Addis said, smiling and reaching for a silver pot on the table. ‘Coffee?’
‘No thanks,’ Jackson replied, not wanting to be in Addis’s debt for so much as a cup of coffee.
‘Very well,’ Addis continued as he poured himself a cup.
‘So what now?’ Jackson asked.
‘You say you won’t knowingly lie to your readers,’ Addis reminded him.
‘No,’ he confirmed. ‘No I won’t.’
‘But that’s exactly what I need you to do, Mr Jackson,’ Addis told him calmly.
‘What are you talking about?’ Jackson demanded.
‘I need to be able to trust you,’ Addis replied and sipped from his cup. ‘Can I trust you, Mr Jackson?’
‘Depends what with,’ he answered.
‘An innocent woman’s life,’ Addis put the hook in. ‘You see, we’ve no intention of handing over Gibran to anyone, but we can use it to try and trap the man we’re looking for and release Dr Ravenni-Ceron.’
‘How are you going to do that?’ Jackson asked. ‘You going to use a double for Gibran? Try and draw the killer in close enough to make a grab for him?’
‘You don’t need to know the details,’ Addis told him. ‘You just need to run the story that the exchange is genuine. Make the killer believe it’s really going to happen. And when it’s all over, I’ll personally give you full disclosure on how the operation unfolded – as much detail as I can. You’ll have complete exclusivity.’
‘So, lie to my readers?’
‘Not really,’ Addis argued. ‘You’ll be part of the bigger story and when it’s all over you can tell your readers everything – how you and The World helped capture a killer and save an innocent woman.’
‘It’s my job to report the news,’ he said. ‘Not become part of it.’
‘But you don’t always stick to those rules, do you, Mr Jackson?’ Addis reminded him. ‘Your dangerous liaisons with Jeremy Goldsboro, for example.’
‘That was different,’ Jackson insisted.
‘Barely,’ Addis smiled.
Jackson was quiet for a long while, considering. ‘I’ll need to be there for the arrest.’
‘Difficult,’ Addis told him. ‘There’ll be armed officers involved. I’ll try to get you close, but I can’t promise anything. What I can promise is that the arrest and release of Dr Ravenni-Ceron will be filmed, and the footage can be sent to you within minutes of it being taken.’
Again, Jackson thought for a long time. ‘You’re going to be under a lot of pressure once I run the story.’
‘Only from a few do-gooders,’ Addis smiled. ‘I can handle them. It’s not as if the masses will be up in arms. They’d no doubt welcome Gibran being handed over to save an innocent woman. Poetic justice and all that.’
‘OK,’ Jackson finally agreed after another pause for thought. ‘Fine. I’ll run the story and you guarantee me exclusivity.’
‘Agreed.’
‘And I get the arrest and rescue footage within minutes of real time?’
‘As promised.’
‘Will Corrigan be making the arrest?’
‘No,’ Addis insisted. ‘It’ll be SO19 or the TSG. Corrigan will take over after the suspect’s been secured. Why do you ask?’
‘No reason,’ he lied. ‘Just this is his investigation.’
‘No,’ Addis reminded him. ‘This is a Metropolitan Police investigation.’
‘Of course,’ Jackson smiled as he got to his feet. ‘Thanks for the chat.’
‘Don’t cross me, Mr Jackson,’ Addis warned him as a parting gesture. ‘That would not be wise.’
Sean and Sally entered the furniture store in Wandsworth and scanned the interior for signs of life. Towards the back of the shop they saw Langley busy with a female customer in her early forties. Even from a distance, they could see that Langley was laying on the charm and that it was having an effect on the smiling woman.
‘Want to go interrupt?’ Sally asked quietly.
‘No,’ Sean replied in little more than a whisper. ‘Let’s have a look around until he’s finished.’
‘OK,’ she agreed. ‘We looking for something specific?’
‘Anything out of place. You’ll know it when you see it.’
‘Fair enough,’ Sally shrugged, ‘but he might not want to admit he saw her yesterday. Some people are very private about receiving counselling,’ she told him. ‘What if he says he never saw her? You going to arrest him?’
‘Maybe,’ he answered.
‘Then you must think he could have been involved,’ she insisted. ‘Despite what Dave told you about the car.’
‘I just want to speak to him,’ Sean assured her. ‘See how he reacts.’
‘Well, now’s your chance,’ she told him, nodding towards Langley as the woman turned away from him, heading towards the exit, watched all the way by Langley. He didn’t seem to notice them until she was gone – the smile falling from his face for a second as he stared straight at Sean as if he was seeing an unwelcome person from his past, but within a few seconds the smile was back as he approached them.
‘Good afternoon,’ he greeted them. ‘Are you looking for something in particular?’
‘Nice-looking woman,’ Sean said, looking over his shoulder at the door the female customer had just walked through.
‘Excuse me?’ Langley asked.
‘Your customer,’ he explained, trying to keep Langley off balance. ‘She was nice-looking.’
‘Yes,’ Langley smiled. ‘I suppose so. Sorry, but do I know you? You look very familiar.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Sean answered, convinced there was more to Langley than a salesman with an eye for pretty women and that the game between them had begun.
‘I’m sure I recognize you,’ Langley insisted, his eyes narrowing as he pretended to try and remember where from. ‘Of course,’ he suddenly beamed. ‘I’ve seen photographs of you in the newspaper. You’re a detective, right?’
‘Detective Inspector Corrigan,’ Sean replied. ‘Special Investigations Unit.’ He pulled his warrant card from his coat’s breast pocket, flashed it and quickly put it away again.
‘DS Jones,’ Sally introduced herself without bothering to show her identification. ‘From the same.’
‘Yes,’ Langley nodded. ‘You’re investigating the one who’s killing the homeless people?’
‘They weren’t all homeless,’ Sean corrected him.
‘No,’ Langley accepted. ‘I don’t really know much about it, to be honest. Only what I hear on the news or see in the papers. So, what brings you to my store? Has something happened around here?’
‘Your psychiatrist,’ Sean told him while trying to read the significance of every word Langley said. ‘Dr Ravenni-Ceron.’
‘Anna,’ Langley said, shaking his head. ‘What’s Anna got to do with anything?’
‘She’s missing,’ Sean played along.
‘Missing?’ Langley acted confused. ‘What do you mean missing?’
‘As in she hasn’t been seen since leaving her office yesterday,’ Sean answered.
‘I saw her yesterday,’ Langley admitted. ‘I had an afternoon appointment at her office. She seemed fine.’
‘She was fine,’ Sean told him, ‘but she hasn’t been seen since shortly after you left.’
‘Do you think something’s happened to her?’ Langley’s face was a picture of concern. ‘Has this got something to do with the man who’s been killing people? The man you’re investigating?’
‘What was your relationship with Dr Ravenni-Ceron?’ Sean tried to move on and keep Langley unbalanced.
‘Business-like,’ he answered, spreading his arms as if it should have been obvious to them. ‘She’s my counsellor. I’ve been having some … difficulties, and she was helping me. We had no personal relationship, if that’s what you mean.’
‘So why were you seeing her?’ Sean asked, knowing Langley didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to.
‘I don’t believe I have to tell you,’ he smiled. ‘What’s discussed between a doctor and patient is confidential, isn’t it?’
‘Do you have something to hide?’ Sean pushed, hoping for a reaction that could tell him what he needed to know about the man in front of him. For a moment Langley was stony-faced – emotionless and lifeless, but suddenly he returned to the cooperative, friendly guy he wanted them to believe he was. ‘My wife and I split up a few years ago,’ he explained. ‘I’m a single man. I have my job and my kids. My wife burnt me pretty badly. I’ve had some trouble dealing with the marriage break-up. Depression. Anxiety. My GP said I should speak to someone, so I did.’
‘Anna?’ Sean clarified.
‘Yes,’ he shrugged.
‘What made you choose her specifically?’ Sean continued.
‘Great reviews,’ Langley assured them. ‘She was highly recommended.’
‘And you’ve seen her how many times?’
‘Yesterday was my sixth consultation,’ he answered, sounding slightly confused.
‘And you were seeing her privately?’ Sean clarified.
‘Yes,’ Langley shrugged. ‘Meaning?’
‘Must be very expensive,’ Sean said, looking around the smallish shop. ‘Why didn’t you see someone through the NHS and save yourself a small fortune?’
‘The NHS has a six-month waiting list, Inspector,’ Langley answered. ‘I wasn’t in a position to wait six months.’
‘Or maybe you went private so you could choose to see Dr Ravenni-Ceron?’ Sean accused him.
‘And why would I want to do that?’
‘So you could get to know her. Get to know her office and her movements.’
‘You haven’t told me what’s happened to her.’ Langley ignored Sean’s accusations.
‘I’m sorry, we can’t,’ Sally intervened. ‘It’s confidential.’
‘Well,’ Langley smiled, ‘I hope she’s all right.’
‘Me too,’ Sean said, his eyes locked with Langley’s. ‘How did you get to Swiss Cottage? Drive?’
‘No,’ Langley replied, still calm and in control. ‘I took a bus to East Putney tube station and the underground from there.’
‘What bus?’ Sean hurried him, hoping for a stutter or a mistake.
‘The 317,’ he answered without hesitation. ‘And then the district line to Earl’s Court, where I changed to the circle line to Baker Street and another change to the Jubilee Line to Swiss Cottage.’
‘Long journey,’ Sean pointed out. ‘Couldn’t you find someone closer?’
‘It’s not that far,’ Langley smiled, ‘and I wanted the anonymity of seeing someone who wasn’t local. I didn’t want to risk my wife finding out and using it as a reason to deny me access to my children.’
‘We understand,’ Sally tried to soften the questioning while Sean stared long and hard into Langley’s eyes looking in vain for a glimmer of something. He began to think that either his first instincts about Langley were wrong or he was so polished and convincing that he could persuade anyone he was merely a forty-something divorcee looking to get his life back on track.
‘We have to check these things out,’ Sean eventually told him. ‘Just in case.’
‘Of course,’ Langley replied, nodding his head in understanding. ‘Just in case.’
‘One last thing,’ Sean asked him. ‘Do you own a car?’
‘No,’ Langley replied, shaking his head. ‘Not much point in London any more.’
‘OK,’ Sean finished, knowing further questioning wouldn’t help him be sure of Langley’s guilt or innocence. Not this time. ‘Thanks for your time. Sorry if some of the questions were a little personal.’
‘No need to apologize,’ Langley told him. ‘I mean, you have to be sure, don’t you? Absolutely sure.’
Sean stared at him hard, trying to work out what Langley was trying to say to him. Or was he mocking him? ‘We’ll be in touch,’ he eventually said. ‘If you think of anything, you can contact us through Scotland Yard.’
‘Of course,’ Langley smiled.
‘Thanks again,’ Sally told him before following Sean out of the store and towards their car. ‘Gave him a bit of a heavy ride,’ she complained. ‘You actually think he could be our man?’
‘Maybe I just didn’t like him,’ he answered.
‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘Seemed like a decent guy – co-operative. Didn’t even get stroppy when you were giving him a hard time.’
‘I had the feeling he was trying to manipulate us,’ Sean warned her. ‘Turning on the charm when he had to. The same way the man we’re after does. Remember, he gets to know his victims first. Wins their trust.’
‘Jesus,’ Sally exclaimed. ‘You do like him for it.’
‘Maybe,’ he admitted. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘You can’t arrest him,’ Sally insisted. ‘You’ve got nothing on him.’
‘I know,’ he agreed. ‘Maybe a surveillance team. It could lead us to Anna.’
‘You haven’t got enough to get a surveillance team authorized,’ Sally argued. ‘I mean, what have you got? He saw Anna yesterday sometime before she was taken. And he was on foot, remember? That won’t persuade many.’
‘Maybe I can convince Addis,’ he replied.
‘You’re going to need a surveillance team for the decoy operation you want to try,’ she reminded him. ‘Addis isn’t going to give you a second one to follow this guy around.’
‘I guess not,’ he reluctantly agreed. ‘Get hold of DVLC and see if there are any vehicles registered to Langley’s address.’
‘We usually give them a vehicle and they give us a name and address,’ Sally reminded him.
‘See if they can do it the other way round,’ he insisted.
‘OK,’ she agreed. ‘What next?’
‘Only thing I can do,’ he told her. ‘I go see Gibran.’
Sally’s hand immediately went to her chest and the wounds that lay beneath her clothing. ‘I can’t see him,’ she insisted. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t.’
‘No problem,’ Sean told her. He knew that Gibran would only seize the opportunity to torture Sally about what he’d done to her. ‘I’ll take Dave.’
‘Fine,’ she said, sighing with relief, ‘and remember, this is Anna we’re trying to find. We have to tread carefully. Do things by the book. We don’t want to spook anyone. If we do, there’s no telling what he might do to her.’
‘This one doesn’t spook,’ Sean told her, ‘but if he hurts her – when I find him …’
‘Put your feelings to one side, Sean,’ she warned him. ‘If we’re going to find Anna then we need you thinking straight. Revenge can wait for another time.’
Geoff Jackson went to one of the last remaining public phone kiosks in Wapping. It wasn’t far from his office and he’d used it many times in the past when he couldn’t trust his own mobile phone or the landline on his desk. The meeting with Addis had left him feeling that precautions were necessary. He only wished it had been an old-style booth he could have sheltered from the biting wind in, but the kiosk would have to do. He pressed the numbers he’d memorized into the phone and waited for an answer. A long time and several curses later, someone spoke on the other end.
‘Broadmoor Psychiatric Hospital.’
‘Very nice it is too,’ Jackson replied, ‘but couldn’t we have spoken over the phone?’
‘I don’t like to handle sensitive business over the phone,’ Addis explained. ‘Sometimes face to face is better, don’t you think?’
‘I thought I’d be dealing directly with DI Corrigan,’ Jackson ignored the question, knowing that Addis was letting him know he didn’t trust him.
‘DI Corrigan’s busy with other matters relating to the investigation,’ Addis explained, ‘and I thought it was time you and I talked.’
‘So,’ Jackson spread his arms wide, ‘here we are.’
Addis leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘We know you have the hostage footage of Dr Ravenni-Ceron.’
‘It was me that told Corrigan. So what of it?’
‘I need your word that you won’t release it to anyone in any way,’ Addis insisted, ‘and I mean anyone.’
‘I came by the film in the normal pursuit of being a journalist,’ Jackson pushed back, unwilling to be intimidated by anyone, even Addis. ‘It’s protected journalistic material. I could use it if I wanted to. You couldn’t touch me.’
‘Don’t quote the law to me, Jackson,’ Addis warned him. ‘Trust me – the law is very, very grey and I’m an expert at exploiting those grey areas. You’d be surprised how many people live in the grey world. I should imagine some very senior people connected to your newspaper can be found there who wouldn’t want to appear to be morally compromised. It would be unfortunate if I had to speak to them.’
‘I’m not going to use the footage,’ Jackson told him, swallowing his anger. ‘Unlike some people, I know the difference between what’s wrong and what’s right. The only person I ever put in harm’s way is me. You should have researched me properly, Mr Addis. I handed you that celebrity paedophile ring on a plate, but I never made a penny out of it. You should have seen what I was being offered to write the book or help make the documentary. So don’t preach to me about morals. I’m an investigative journalist. I expose the truth even when the establishment doesn’t want me to. Can you say the same?’
‘Sometimes it’s my job to protect the establishment,’ Addis replied, ‘but perhaps not today.’
‘What do you want from me?’ Jackson demanded.
‘Your cooperation,’ Addis smiled. ‘I need you to run the story that we are preparing to exchange Gibran for Dr Ravenni-Ceron.’
‘You’ll never be allowed to do that,’ Jackson argued. ‘Even Gibran has human rights. It’s impossible.’
‘And if I was to tell you we are going to make the exchange?’ Addis asked.
‘I wouldn’t believe you,’ Jackson answered.
‘But you’d run the story?’
‘No,’ Jackson insisted. ‘I’m not knowingly going to lie. I know you’re not going to exchange Gibran for Ceron.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Addis said, smiling and reaching for a silver pot on the table. ‘Coffee?’
‘No thanks,’ Jackson replied, not wanting to be in Addis’s debt for so much as a cup of coffee.
‘Very well,’ Addis continued as he poured himself a cup.
‘So what now?’ Jackson asked.
‘You say you won’t knowingly lie to your readers,’ Addis reminded him.
‘No,’ he confirmed. ‘No I won’t.’
‘But that’s exactly what I need you to do, Mr Jackson,’ Addis told him calmly.
‘What are you talking about?’ Jackson demanded.
‘I need to be able to trust you,’ Addis replied and sipped from his cup. ‘Can I trust you, Mr Jackson?’
‘Depends what with,’ he answered.
‘An innocent woman’s life,’ Addis put the hook in. ‘You see, we’ve no intention of handing over Gibran to anyone, but we can use it to try and trap the man we’re looking for and release Dr Ravenni-Ceron.’
‘How are you going to do that?’ Jackson asked. ‘You going to use a double for Gibran? Try and draw the killer in close enough to make a grab for him?’
‘You don’t need to know the details,’ Addis told him. ‘You just need to run the story that the exchange is genuine. Make the killer believe it’s really going to happen. And when it’s all over, I’ll personally give you full disclosure on how the operation unfolded – as much detail as I can. You’ll have complete exclusivity.’
‘So, lie to my readers?’
‘Not really,’ Addis argued. ‘You’ll be part of the bigger story and when it’s all over you can tell your readers everything – how you and The World helped capture a killer and save an innocent woman.’
‘It’s my job to report the news,’ he said. ‘Not become part of it.’
‘But you don’t always stick to those rules, do you, Mr Jackson?’ Addis reminded him. ‘Your dangerous liaisons with Jeremy Goldsboro, for example.’
‘That was different,’ Jackson insisted.
‘Barely,’ Addis smiled.
Jackson was quiet for a long while, considering. ‘I’ll need to be there for the arrest.’
‘Difficult,’ Addis told him. ‘There’ll be armed officers involved. I’ll try to get you close, but I can’t promise anything. What I can promise is that the arrest and release of Dr Ravenni-Ceron will be filmed, and the footage can be sent to you within minutes of it being taken.’
Again, Jackson thought for a long time. ‘You’re going to be under a lot of pressure once I run the story.’
‘Only from a few do-gooders,’ Addis smiled. ‘I can handle them. It’s not as if the masses will be up in arms. They’d no doubt welcome Gibran being handed over to save an innocent woman. Poetic justice and all that.’
‘OK,’ Jackson finally agreed after another pause for thought. ‘Fine. I’ll run the story and you guarantee me exclusivity.’
‘Agreed.’
‘And I get the arrest and rescue footage within minutes of real time?’
‘As promised.’
‘Will Corrigan be making the arrest?’
‘No,’ Addis insisted. ‘It’ll be SO19 or the TSG. Corrigan will take over after the suspect’s been secured. Why do you ask?’
‘No reason,’ he lied. ‘Just this is his investigation.’
‘No,’ Addis reminded him. ‘This is a Metropolitan Police investigation.’
‘Of course,’ Jackson smiled as he got to his feet. ‘Thanks for the chat.’
‘Don’t cross me, Mr Jackson,’ Addis warned him as a parting gesture. ‘That would not be wise.’
Sean and Sally entered the furniture store in Wandsworth and scanned the interior for signs of life. Towards the back of the shop they saw Langley busy with a female customer in her early forties. Even from a distance, they could see that Langley was laying on the charm and that it was having an effect on the smiling woman.
‘Want to go interrupt?’ Sally asked quietly.
‘No,’ Sean replied in little more than a whisper. ‘Let’s have a look around until he’s finished.’
‘OK,’ she agreed. ‘We looking for something specific?’
‘Anything out of place. You’ll know it when you see it.’
‘Fair enough,’ Sally shrugged, ‘but he might not want to admit he saw her yesterday. Some people are very private about receiving counselling,’ she told him. ‘What if he says he never saw her? You going to arrest him?’
‘Maybe,’ he answered.
‘Then you must think he could have been involved,’ she insisted. ‘Despite what Dave told you about the car.’
‘I just want to speak to him,’ Sean assured her. ‘See how he reacts.’
‘Well, now’s your chance,’ she told him, nodding towards Langley as the woman turned away from him, heading towards the exit, watched all the way by Langley. He didn’t seem to notice them until she was gone – the smile falling from his face for a second as he stared straight at Sean as if he was seeing an unwelcome person from his past, but within a few seconds the smile was back as he approached them.
‘Good afternoon,’ he greeted them. ‘Are you looking for something in particular?’
‘Nice-looking woman,’ Sean said, looking over his shoulder at the door the female customer had just walked through.
‘Excuse me?’ Langley asked.
‘Your customer,’ he explained, trying to keep Langley off balance. ‘She was nice-looking.’
‘Yes,’ Langley smiled. ‘I suppose so. Sorry, but do I know you? You look very familiar.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Sean answered, convinced there was more to Langley than a salesman with an eye for pretty women and that the game between them had begun.
‘I’m sure I recognize you,’ Langley insisted, his eyes narrowing as he pretended to try and remember where from. ‘Of course,’ he suddenly beamed. ‘I’ve seen photographs of you in the newspaper. You’re a detective, right?’
‘Detective Inspector Corrigan,’ Sean replied. ‘Special Investigations Unit.’ He pulled his warrant card from his coat’s breast pocket, flashed it and quickly put it away again.
‘DS Jones,’ Sally introduced herself without bothering to show her identification. ‘From the same.’
‘Yes,’ Langley nodded. ‘You’re investigating the one who’s killing the homeless people?’
‘They weren’t all homeless,’ Sean corrected him.
‘No,’ Langley accepted. ‘I don’t really know much about it, to be honest. Only what I hear on the news or see in the papers. So, what brings you to my store? Has something happened around here?’
‘Your psychiatrist,’ Sean told him while trying to read the significance of every word Langley said. ‘Dr Ravenni-Ceron.’
‘Anna,’ Langley said, shaking his head. ‘What’s Anna got to do with anything?’
‘She’s missing,’ Sean played along.
‘Missing?’ Langley acted confused. ‘What do you mean missing?’
‘As in she hasn’t been seen since leaving her office yesterday,’ Sean answered.
‘I saw her yesterday,’ Langley admitted. ‘I had an afternoon appointment at her office. She seemed fine.’
‘She was fine,’ Sean told him, ‘but she hasn’t been seen since shortly after you left.’
‘Do you think something’s happened to her?’ Langley’s face was a picture of concern. ‘Has this got something to do with the man who’s been killing people? The man you’re investigating?’
‘What was your relationship with Dr Ravenni-Ceron?’ Sean tried to move on and keep Langley unbalanced.
‘Business-like,’ he answered, spreading his arms as if it should have been obvious to them. ‘She’s my counsellor. I’ve been having some … difficulties, and she was helping me. We had no personal relationship, if that’s what you mean.’
‘So why were you seeing her?’ Sean asked, knowing Langley didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to.
‘I don’t believe I have to tell you,’ he smiled. ‘What’s discussed between a doctor and patient is confidential, isn’t it?’
‘Do you have something to hide?’ Sean pushed, hoping for a reaction that could tell him what he needed to know about the man in front of him. For a moment Langley was stony-faced – emotionless and lifeless, but suddenly he returned to the cooperative, friendly guy he wanted them to believe he was. ‘My wife and I split up a few years ago,’ he explained. ‘I’m a single man. I have my job and my kids. My wife burnt me pretty badly. I’ve had some trouble dealing with the marriage break-up. Depression. Anxiety. My GP said I should speak to someone, so I did.’
‘Anna?’ Sean clarified.
‘Yes,’ he shrugged.
‘What made you choose her specifically?’ Sean continued.
‘Great reviews,’ Langley assured them. ‘She was highly recommended.’
‘And you’ve seen her how many times?’
‘Yesterday was my sixth consultation,’ he answered, sounding slightly confused.
‘And you were seeing her privately?’ Sean clarified.
‘Yes,’ Langley shrugged. ‘Meaning?’
‘Must be very expensive,’ Sean said, looking around the smallish shop. ‘Why didn’t you see someone through the NHS and save yourself a small fortune?’
‘The NHS has a six-month waiting list, Inspector,’ Langley answered. ‘I wasn’t in a position to wait six months.’
‘Or maybe you went private so you could choose to see Dr Ravenni-Ceron?’ Sean accused him.
‘And why would I want to do that?’
‘So you could get to know her. Get to know her office and her movements.’
‘You haven’t told me what’s happened to her.’ Langley ignored Sean’s accusations.
‘I’m sorry, we can’t,’ Sally intervened. ‘It’s confidential.’
‘Well,’ Langley smiled, ‘I hope she’s all right.’
‘Me too,’ Sean said, his eyes locked with Langley’s. ‘How did you get to Swiss Cottage? Drive?’
‘No,’ Langley replied, still calm and in control. ‘I took a bus to East Putney tube station and the underground from there.’
‘What bus?’ Sean hurried him, hoping for a stutter or a mistake.
‘The 317,’ he answered without hesitation. ‘And then the district line to Earl’s Court, where I changed to the circle line to Baker Street and another change to the Jubilee Line to Swiss Cottage.’
‘Long journey,’ Sean pointed out. ‘Couldn’t you find someone closer?’
‘It’s not that far,’ Langley smiled, ‘and I wanted the anonymity of seeing someone who wasn’t local. I didn’t want to risk my wife finding out and using it as a reason to deny me access to my children.’
‘We understand,’ Sally tried to soften the questioning while Sean stared long and hard into Langley’s eyes looking in vain for a glimmer of something. He began to think that either his first instincts about Langley were wrong or he was so polished and convincing that he could persuade anyone he was merely a forty-something divorcee looking to get his life back on track.
‘We have to check these things out,’ Sean eventually told him. ‘Just in case.’
‘Of course,’ Langley replied, nodding his head in understanding. ‘Just in case.’
‘One last thing,’ Sean asked him. ‘Do you own a car?’
‘No,’ Langley replied, shaking his head. ‘Not much point in London any more.’
‘OK,’ Sean finished, knowing further questioning wouldn’t help him be sure of Langley’s guilt or innocence. Not this time. ‘Thanks for your time. Sorry if some of the questions were a little personal.’
‘No need to apologize,’ Langley told him. ‘I mean, you have to be sure, don’t you? Absolutely sure.’
Sean stared at him hard, trying to work out what Langley was trying to say to him. Or was he mocking him? ‘We’ll be in touch,’ he eventually said. ‘If you think of anything, you can contact us through Scotland Yard.’
‘Of course,’ Langley smiled.
‘Thanks again,’ Sally told him before following Sean out of the store and towards their car. ‘Gave him a bit of a heavy ride,’ she complained. ‘You actually think he could be our man?’
‘Maybe I just didn’t like him,’ he answered.
‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘Seemed like a decent guy – co-operative. Didn’t even get stroppy when you were giving him a hard time.’
‘I had the feeling he was trying to manipulate us,’ Sean warned her. ‘Turning on the charm when he had to. The same way the man we’re after does. Remember, he gets to know his victims first. Wins their trust.’
‘Jesus,’ Sally exclaimed. ‘You do like him for it.’
‘Maybe,’ he admitted. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘You can’t arrest him,’ Sally insisted. ‘You’ve got nothing on him.’
‘I know,’ he agreed. ‘Maybe a surveillance team. It could lead us to Anna.’
‘You haven’t got enough to get a surveillance team authorized,’ Sally argued. ‘I mean, what have you got? He saw Anna yesterday sometime before she was taken. And he was on foot, remember? That won’t persuade many.’
‘Maybe I can convince Addis,’ he replied.
‘You’re going to need a surveillance team for the decoy operation you want to try,’ she reminded him. ‘Addis isn’t going to give you a second one to follow this guy around.’
‘I guess not,’ he reluctantly agreed. ‘Get hold of DVLC and see if there are any vehicles registered to Langley’s address.’
‘We usually give them a vehicle and they give us a name and address,’ Sally reminded him.
‘See if they can do it the other way round,’ he insisted.
‘OK,’ she agreed. ‘What next?’
‘Only thing I can do,’ he told her. ‘I go see Gibran.’
Sally’s hand immediately went to her chest and the wounds that lay beneath her clothing. ‘I can’t see him,’ she insisted. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t.’
‘No problem,’ Sean told her. He knew that Gibran would only seize the opportunity to torture Sally about what he’d done to her. ‘I’ll take Dave.’
‘Fine,’ she said, sighing with relief, ‘and remember, this is Anna we’re trying to find. We have to tread carefully. Do things by the book. We don’t want to spook anyone. If we do, there’s no telling what he might do to her.’
‘This one doesn’t spook,’ Sean told her, ‘but if he hurts her – when I find him …’
‘Put your feelings to one side, Sean,’ she warned him. ‘If we’re going to find Anna then we need you thinking straight. Revenge can wait for another time.’
Geoff Jackson went to one of the last remaining public phone kiosks in Wapping. It wasn’t far from his office and he’d used it many times in the past when he couldn’t trust his own mobile phone or the landline on his desk. The meeting with Addis had left him feeling that precautions were necessary. He only wished it had been an old-style booth he could have sheltered from the biting wind in, but the kiosk would have to do. He pressed the numbers he’d memorized into the phone and waited for an answer. A long time and several curses later, someone spoke on the other end.
‘Broadmoor Psychiatric Hospital.’
