Contents (83)
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- Acknowledgements
- OUT NOW IN PAPERBACK
Michael’s smile disappeared. Replaced by confusion. Adam Blunt was a name he was never happy to hear.
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he replied, careful to keep his voice low. The name would be even more unwelcome to Reid, and Michael did not want to dampen the relatively good mood he had worked hard to achieve. ‘Why?’
‘And is it right that he retired to a place called Southwold?’
‘Yeah, so I was told. Look, what’s this about?’
‘Any chance you know his address there?’
‘Not off-hand. I’m sure chambers would have it. In case anything came up with one of his cases. Give the clerks a call, if they have it they’ll give it to you.’
‘What about Derek? Would he have it?’
‘No chance.’ Michael’s tone was now firm. ‘I’m not asking Derek. Blunt’s a bit of a sore point with us, I’m not scratching it while he’s in this state. Anyway, why do you need it?’
Michael could feel the colour draining from his own face as he listened to what Sarah had to say. And one word in particular made his blood run cold.
Crucified.
It took him a moment to accept what Sarah had told him. When he did, the connection was undeniable.
‘Sarah,’ Michael finally said, ‘I think you need to know how Phillip Longman died.’
TWENTY-ONE
New Scotland Yard’s four Major Investigation Teams occupied about a third of the building’s fifth floor.
A large communal work-space occupied by the bulk of the teams accounted for most of that. Open plan and cavernous. It was joined by a separate Exhibits Room. Smaller, but not by much. Designed as storage for the evidence accumulated in ongoing investigations and for upcoming trials.
Then there were the senior staff’s offices.
Chief Superintendent David Rogers ran the Special Crimes and Operations Directorate’s Homicide Command (Central), and so technically oversaw the four Major Investigation Teams under the Command’s umbrella. A political and public role, it came with the largest office and was where the buck ultimately stopped. The chief superintendent’s day-to-day involvement in any of the teams below him was, however, minimal.
Next was Superintendent Carol Walker. An admin rank, there to do what most would consider Rogers’ job.
Joelle Levy and three other detective chief inspectors came next. Each responsible for their own MIT and the fifty officers supposedly assigned to each of those four units. It was here that the everyday command of the four central Major Investigation Teams rested, with DCIs high-ranking enough to deserve a substantial office but still low enough that their hands stayed dirty.
Steven Hale was one of four detective inspectors who worked under Levy as part of MIT One, and he was also her most trusted. None of which made a difference to his office rights. Like his three MIT One colleagues of the same rank, Hale had to join two hundred other members of the Command’s four teams, hot-desking in a newly furbished office space that looked more like a Seattle coffee house than a working police station.