– the usual soundtrack whenever a division other than their
Manchester Metropolitan one was mentioned.
‘All right, it’s not like we’re dealing with the Met or anything.’
Actual boos.
Jessica grinned. ‘Anyway, one of the lads up north says it’s something that’s been breaking out
among the gangs – apparently it makes the weapon quicker through the air. In my day it was Rubik’s
Cubes and Hungry Hungry Hippos, now it’s crack cocaine and ten-year-olds getting each other
pregnant. Apparently this makes it easier for kids with weaker arms to smack each other over the
head, plus they can hide it better in their clothes. There’s no specific gang we can tie it to but it’s
something to bear in mind. Lisa Dawes gave us a description of the attacker but it’s not much use,
neither is the CCTV.’
Izzy changed the screen to another still from the camera, showing the hooded figure wearing the
mask. The A with the diagonal line through it was framed perfectly in the centre.
‘This is the logo for Anarchy. You might think that gives us a lead by linking it to various protest
groups but unfortunately these things are widely available on the Internet.’
The next slide was of the mask itself, taken from a website.
‘The night crew started to put together a list of places where these masks can be bought but stopped
when they reached a hundred – and that’s just online. We don’t have the staff to begin getting together
a list of locals who could have bought these so we’re going to have to give it to the media and rely on
people to call in if they’re suspicious of anyone who owns one.’
Izzy clicked through a selection of stills from the shopping centre’s CCTV cameras as Jessica
talked everyone through them. ‘The Bradford Park geeks have been comparing the full-length camera
shots of the person who attacked Luke Callaghan to the full-length ones we have here. Ask them some
random fact about Doctor Who in the 1970s and they’ll give you an answer straight away. Ask them to
match two photographs and they give you a bunch of bollocks about a bunch of procedures. Off the
record, they say it’s almost certainly the same person. On the record, they’re too busy watching Star
Trek marathons to give us a direct answer any time soon. Anyway, we’ve got this hooded guy walking
into the centre via the ground-level car park entrance, heading up two floors and then waiting for
almost an hour and a half. There are no cameras pointing towards where the attack took place. He
was likely waiting next to the victim’s van but we don’t know for sure. Shortly after the attack, we
have him walking out the exact way he came in, still wearing the mask, and then he disappears.’
With another nod, Izzy picked up the account. Because they were still a DS short and DCI Cole was
busy getting his daily bollocking from the superintendent and other higher-ups, Jessica was leaning on
her friend. ‘I’ve been talking to the camera operators around Trafford Park, Eccles and Davyhulme
but there are no spots of our guy,’ Izzy said. ‘We’ve cross-reffed the ANPR of cars leaving the city
centre on the morning of the Callaghan attack to anything leaving the Trafford Centre but it’s clear.
I’ve not been able to find out whether the attacker left the area on foot or in a car.’
Jessica finished drinking her second mug of tea of the morning. ‘Right, whichever one of you lot
makes the best teas can stay here – fight it out among yourselves. I’m milk, no sugar. Iz is milk with
one and the Guv has it black. Don’t ask me why, I’ve got it on good authority that nine out of ten serial killers also have their tea black. Anyway, the rest of you: we’ve nicked some uniforms for a search
team to check the bins around—’
‘Not the bloody bins again?’ Everyone turned to see one of the female constables looking
particularly pissed off. Jessica didn’t blame her. ‘Sorry,’ the
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