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"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 14 February 2006), see www.w3.org" />
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<title>Chapter 23</title>
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<h2>23</h2>
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<p>The station was awash with light when Jack got there. One of the
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patrol cars shot out of the exit, blue light flashing, though its
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siren was switched off. Jack parked quickly, went in the back door,
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and headed straight for the washroom where he splashed cold water
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on his face until he felt as if he could face people again.</p>
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<p>"You look as if you've got flu," Bobby Thomson said when he
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leaned over the desk. "Your eyes are all red."</p>
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<p>"Must be an allergy," Jack replied, forcing a grin. "Pollen or
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something." Policemen didn't cry, and if they ever did, other
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policemen were the last folk to understand. "What's happening
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now?"</p>
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<p>"I was about to call you. You must be a mind-reader or
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something."</p>
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<p>"What?" Bobby Thomson's words immediately brought back a picture
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of Lorna Breck's earnest and gentle face.</p>
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<p>"You coming in tonight. There's been another one"</p>
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<p>"What a snatch?"</p>
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<p>"No. Some nutter's been smeared by the mail train. Looks like a
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suicide. There's an ambulance heading round to the station, but the
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word is it's a hamburger job."</p>
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<p>"Bobby," Jack said, with mock severity. "A bit of decorum." The
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sergeant grinned. He'd seen it all in thirty years.</p>
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<p>The station was two minutes away, and it was quicker to walk
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than drive. As he turned out of the rear entrance of the station,
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Jack could see the electric wink of the emergency cars. He crossed
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the road, walked quickly to the old tunnel entrance and headed up
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the ramp.</p>
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<p>Bobby Thomson had been right. It was indeed a hamburger job.
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Jack hoped that there was enough left of the body on the line to
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make identification possible, though it did not look as if it would
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be easy.</p>
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<p>The ambulance teams were down on the tracks. One policeman was
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retching drily over the bannister of the exit-slope. He turned
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round and Jack recognised young Gordon Pirie who'd thrown up down
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at the Castle when they'd found Annie Eastwood's corpse and had to
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be given a day off duty. He wasn't having a pleasant introduction
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to policing.</p>
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<p>"Two witnesses," the rookie's partner said. "Sandra Mitchell and
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Walter Dickson. They said the man jumped in front of the train.
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They're still in the Horse Bar. Somebody's coming to take them
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round to the station for statements. Driver didn't see a thing.
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They're sending down a replacement to take the engine away when
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we're finished. Looks like it'll need a good hose down."</p>
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<p>Jack strode to the edge of the platform. Somebody had rigged a
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light and the white beam picked out everything in detail. The
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broken, slumped figure did not look like a man. The coat was spread
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out on either side, with a wide rip from hem to shoulder, and it
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glistened wetly under the lights. What Jack assumed to be a leg was
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pointed in the wrong direction, slanted over the man's chest, one
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shoeless foot resting on his shoulder. The face was a ruin of white
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bone and dark blood.</p>
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<p>"Bet his name's O'Day," Jack said. One of the men on the track
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turned up from the body.</p>
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<p>"Don't think so sir. We've got his wallet. Says he's a Derek
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Elliot. He's that bloke who runs the estate agents, according to
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his cards."</p>
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<p>Instantly Jack recalled what Andy Toye had said. The words on
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the wall could have been an anagram. Andy had that kind of
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lateral-thinking mind. He'd suggested he should be looking for
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people whose names began with the two missing letters, although the
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professor had been quick to point out it was only an idea.</p>
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<p>"Elliot," Jack said through clenched teeth.</p>
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<p>If Andy Toye was right, the next man <em>had</em> to be
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O'Day.</p>
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<p>The policemen on the track, helped by the ambulance team,
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managed get the mess of the body into a bag, and hauled it onto the
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platform just as Ralph Slater came running breathlessly up the
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subway ramp.</p>
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<p>"Sorry, chief. Just got the call." he said, gasping. He was
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toting his black scene-of-crimes equipment case.</p>
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<p>"I think we got the sixth one?"</p>
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<p>"Huh?"</p>
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<p>"From the Herkik case," Jack said softly, keeping it between
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them. "Looks like he took a dive in front of the Mallaig
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express."</p>
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<p>"Did a human Garfield?" Ralph asked. Jack grimaced.</p>
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<p>"Got that one from John McColl," Ralph said, grinning. "He's got
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a way with words. Despite himself, Jack felt a smile struggle
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through at the visual image the phrase conjured up.</p>
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<p>"I'll speak to the driver. You confirm the I.D. and get prints."
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he turned away then came back to Ralph. "That might help," he said,
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pointing down at the dirty concrete close to the station wall. The
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young policeman was just levering himself upright when he turned
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and saw where Jack was pointing. Immediately he doubled over the
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safety barrier, sides convulsing in spastic heaves.</p>
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<p>"He'll turn himself inside out," Ralph said. He walked forward
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and picked up the hand which still lay palm up.</p>
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<p>"Remarkable," Ralph called over. "His watch is still going."</p>
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<p>The young policeman moaned sickly.</p>
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<p>Tom Middleton had nothing helpful to say. His face had lost all
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its colour and he'd the look of a man who's woken up to find a
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corpse and a bloodstained knife lying beside him. Anybody would
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have thought he'd made the train jump the tracks and had gone,
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hauling on the steam whistle, chasing after the man to grind him
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under the wheels. He kept shaking his head as if denying what had
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happened. One of the ambulancemen gave him something to drink and
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the engine driver spilled most of it on the way to his mouth.</p>
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<p>"I saw him before he hit but I didn't know what it was," the man
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said. "It was only something black. Honest, I couldn't have stopped
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it. Damned thing takes three hundred yards at only thirty."</p>
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<p>"Did he jump?" on the policeman was asking.</p>
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<p>"Must have. Never saw anybody else. The whole train's in a mess.
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I thought he might have still been stuck there, but he must have
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gone under."</p>
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<p>The driver kept shaking his head in disbelief while the
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policeman took notes, then he seemed to come round a little and he
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grabbed the other man by the sleeve of his tunic.</p>
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<p>"I've only got three weeks to go before I retire. I never had an
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accident in forty year, not one. I got certificates to prove
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it."</p>
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<p>"Yes sir," the policeman said patiently, easing his arm away,
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but Tom grabbed it and pulled it close, unaware of what he was
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doing.</p>
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<p>"So why did the bastard pick <em>my</em> train?"</p>
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<p>"I can't honestly say," the constable said civilly. He didn't
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take offence, at least not while his superiors were watching.</p>
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<p>Jack pulled his coat tight against the cold and went down the
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subway, crossed the road and into to the Horse Bar where a young
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woman constable sat with her arm round a younger girl who was
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snuffling into a crumpled tissue. Beside her, a boy of eighteen or
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so with short cut hair slicked back with gel, was staring into the
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far distance just above the table.</p>
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<p>He sat down and introduced himself. The boy nodded dumbly. The
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girl sobbed steadily, and for a second he was reminded of Lorna
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Breck, only an hour before. "Give us some coffees across here," he
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called out to the barman who was leaning against the gantry,
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boredly cleaning a glass.</p>
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<p>"We're shut," the skinny fellow called back. His hair was as
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black as Jack's, but it hung down in lank strings over his
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forehead.</p>
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<p>Jack got up and walked to the bar. He put both hands on the
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surface and leaned across, towering over the man.</p>
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<p>"I've got no time for any lip, and I'm in no mood for backchat,"
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he said, staring down into the barman's eyes. "Get some coffees.
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Now. And make it snappy." The man nodded. Jack went back to the
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seated group. The small man man shrugged and hit the button on the
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coffee maker.</p>
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<p>The boy was quite lucid when he spoke, but his voice had the
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shaky hesitation which is quite normal in people who are in
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shock.</p>
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<p>"I thought he was drunk," he said. "He came along the platform,
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mumbling away. He looked as if he was on drugs. All starey-eyed and
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that. He came right up to us and I pushed him away. He was scaring
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Sandra."</p>
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<p>"You pushed him?"</p>
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<p>"Yes. But not hard. He was saying something."</p>
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<p>"Like what?"</p>
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<p>"He kept swearing. Saying 'bastard'."</p>
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<p>"At you?"</p>
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<p>"I don't think so. I think he was talking to himself. Then he
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said he didn't want to do it."</p>
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<p>"That was exactly it?" Jack asked. The boy nodded.</p>
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<p>" 'Bastard was in me,' that's what he said an' all. Said he was
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dirty now."</p>
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<p>Jack took a note of that. It didn't make much sense, but it
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seemed important.</p>
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<p>"Than what?"</p>
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<p>"Then he shoved past us. The train was just coming into the
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station. He didn't even stop, he ran out and jumped right in front
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of it. Jeez-o, you should have seen it. He went right up in the air
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and a bit of him came off. His hand. I saw it. Then he went down
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and the wheels went right over him. Sandra here just fainted. I had
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to carry her down."</p>
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<p>The barman brought the coffee across and set them down with a
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surly clatter. Jack spooned sugar into the four cups and shoved two
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of them across to the girl and the woman constable who nodded her
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head and gave him a grateful smile. Walter picked up and started to
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sip.</p>
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<p>"What's that wee dog called in Charley Brown?" he asked
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vaguely.</p>
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<p>"Snoopy," the policewoman said.</p>
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<p>"That was it. He was wearing a Snoopy watch, with the wee bird
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walking round the edges. It was still going. Even when his hand was
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off, it was still going."</p>
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<p>Big tears welled up in the boy's eyes and the girl started to
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cry again, great racking sobs that looked as if they would take a
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while to subside. The woman pulled her close, letting her lean
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against her uniform and patted her shoulder comfortingly.</p>
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<p>The mangled and eviscerated body was finally carried own to the
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ambulance. The ticket collector asked Ralph what he should do about
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the mess on the lines.</p>
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<p>"Put some sand down," was the only advice he could offer.</p>
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<p>Back at the station mortuary, Ralph had the grizzly job of
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taking prints from the fingers of the dead man, including the five
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on the hand, now a pale grey, still in its sleeve. By the time Jack
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came back, it was getting on to two in the morning, and by then
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Ralph could confirm that yes, the suicide had laid prints all over
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Marta Herkik's table.</p>
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<p>"So now we have to find O'Day," Jack said. Send a team of people
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round to this guy's place. Usual statements from relatives and
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search the house for anything that will give us another
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connection."</p>
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<p>"Do you know what's going on?"</p>
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<p>"I'm getting close," Jack admitted.</p>
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<p>"Want to let me in on it?"</p>
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<p>Jack looked down at Ralph, who, at six feet was a few inches
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shorter, though in his old tweed jacket and thick herringbone coat
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he looked almost as broad.</p>
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<p>"I do, but I can't. You'd never believe me."</p>
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<p>Ralph gave him a searching look. "I suppose it's got something
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to do with the Breck girl? Is she starting to talk sense?"</p>
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<p>"She might be, but whether it really makes sense is anybody's
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guess."</p>
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<p>Jack walked off and went to his office where he stood staring at
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a map of the town. After a while, he picked up the internal phone
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and dialled Bobby Thomson's number. There were sixteen men on night
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duty, plus the ones who were still out on the beat, and Jack
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realised, that wasn't enough. He'd get operations to call them with
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instructions, and in the morning he'd fax a request to headquarters
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in for extra men. The policemen trooped in to the operations room
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and after a scuffling of chairs, sat attentively.</p>
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<p>"I've a feeling it might strike tonight," he said. He did have a
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feeling that it would, though he had an even nastier feeling,
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worse, a near-certainly, that it had already struck, after
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listening to Lorna Breck's anguished voice on the telephone.</p>
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<p>"I need extra work on specific areas tonight," he told the
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group. "Forget about padlock rattling on River Street and the rest
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of the shops. If there's anybody breaking in to places, then it's
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their lucky night. We'll catch them another time."</p>
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<p>He approached the large-scale map, showing the streets and
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vennels and alleys of the old centre of town.</p>
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<p>"Concentrate on these areas," he said, ringing them one by
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one.</p>
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<p>"Latta Court and the nearby blocks. The Town Hall. Castlebank
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Church. The Distillery." each of the spots was punctuated by a
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quick, almost savage circling motion of his hand. "Places where
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people come and go at night. Anywhere high. This bastard
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<em>climbs."</em></p>
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<p>He turned round to face the men. They all gazed back.</p>
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<p>"He doesn't like to leave traces, so he climbs up things. That's
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where we'll catch him. I don't want you guys racing around with the
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lights and sirens on. We'll have to do this softly-softly."</p>
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<p>When he'd finished, the men stood up and shuffled out and onto
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the streets.</p>
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<p>Jack sat for another half an hour, trying to puzzle out, from
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the description Lorna Breck had given him, where the next killings
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would be, or had been. It would have been much better, despite her
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lilting highland accent which softened out her words, if she'd been
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a local girl. Then she'd know.</p>
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<p>At the moment, nobody knew.</p>
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<p>Jack cleared his desk and went home to bed, almost too tired to
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think.</p>
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