Panic (29 page)

“No problem,” said Cooper, easing the car forward a little faster. “Won’t be long now.”

The rest of the journey passed in silence, other than the occasional question from Mary regarding the scenery as they passed through the suburbs and into the heart of the city. Leopold noticed most of the famous landmarks as they reached the Thames river, and Cooper filled in the gaps where Mary pointed out buildings she didn’t recognize.

They eventually reached Westminster, where they left the highway and joined the line of traffic that snaked through the upmarket streets, lined on either side with glass-fronted office buildings, Georgian apartment blocks, and gleaming department stores flying the Union Jack flag at full mast. The black Audi sailed past most of the stationary vehicles, slowing only as they were joined by the epitomic red double-decker buses that shared the empty lanes. Cooper pulled away from the main road as one of the bus drivers sounded his horn in irritation, steering the car down one of the side roads that led up to the headquarters of the Metropolitan Police.

Leopold spotted the iconic
New Scotland Yard
triangular sign, familiar from countless news reports, spinning slowly on its axis as Cooper pulled the Audi around to the secured parking lot. An officer wearing a high-visibility jacket checked Cooper’s identification and waved them through the security checkpoint, down into the basement structure.

“Might not be here much longer,” said Cooper, peering through the gloom for a parking space. “The Met is considering selling the place next year and moving us to Whitechapel. Probably quite fitting, given the current situation.”

Leopold nodded absent-mindedly and pointed out a free space near the elevators. “Will superintendent Swanson be with us soon? It’s been a long trip.”

“Oh yes, he knows you’re here,” said Cooper, lining up the car and reversing into the space. “I’ll take you up to his office straight away.”

Leopold stepped out into the parking lot and followed Cooper to the elevators, where the four of them rode up to the sixth storey offices. Cooper led them through the stuffy corridors until they reached Swanson’s office, where Cooper knocked and opened the door.

Superintendent Swanson was sat behind a large, wooden desk, and was scribbling something on a piece of notepaper as Leopold stepped through into the office. Swanson was middle-aged, perhaps forty-five, and almost completely gray-haired, including his substantial moustache. He wore a smart suit and stood up as Cooper closed the door behind him.

“Ah, Mr Blake and companions,” said Swanson, his thick voice booming across the room. “So glad to finally meet you.”

Leopold shook Swanson’s hand, who gripped a little harder than expected, before taking a seat opposite the superintendent, across the desk. Cooper offered Jerome and Mary a seat on the small sofa at the back of the office, where they would still be able to join in the conversation.

“Thank you, Cooper,” said Swanson, taking his seat. “I’ll update you later.”

Leopold saw Cooper nod politely and leave the room. Swanson’s office was large enough to seat a half-dozen people, and had a generous view of the quiet street outside. The thick, reflective windows filtered the light somewhat, giving the outside world an odd hue that somehow made the interior of the building feel as overcast as the city outside.

“I understand you haven’t yet been briefed,” said Swanson, interlocking his fingers.

“Not yet,” said Leopold. “But I have a few theories as to why we’re here.”

“Really?” said Swanson, leaning forward. “I was told about your particular talents. I’d be interested to hear what you’ve managed to figure out already.”

Leopold heard Mary shift her weight on the sofa behind him, and knew without looking that she was probably rolling her eyes.

“With pleasure,” said Leopold. “The Metropolitan Police are among the finest in the world, with access to almost unlimited resources. However, like many organisations, they will happily outsource where they feel it is required. In this case, you’ve involved the FBI which suggests you believe a foreign involvement.”

“Good, good,” said Swanson. “Go on.”

“Naturally, the FBI are woefully under-resourced and decide to use one of their consultants instead of sending out a team. That’s where I come in.”

“Very astute,” said Swanson. “Anything else?”

“It’s unlikely the FBI would get involved for anything less than a homicide case,” said Leopold. “So I had assumed we would be assisting with a murder enquiry. Once Ms Jordan got involved, my suspicions were confirmed. The NYPD don’t send out their top homicide detectives without reason, even if they do want to keep an eye on me.”

Leopold turned to look at Mary, who was shifting uncomfortably on the sofa next to Jerome, whose large frame took up most of the space.

“Very good, Mr Blake,” said Swanson, beaming.

“I’m not done yet,” said Leopold, raising a finger. “Your man Cooper isn’t what he seems.”

“What do you mean?” asked Swanson, his smile fading.

“A transfer from another police force to assist with a particular case is unusual, especially for someone with a sergeant’s rank. His car was brand new, a luxury model, which someone on his salary would never be able to afford. It’s not a rental, either. His accent was a little jumbled, suggesting someone who had lived away from home for several years, not a person who had just arrived in the last few weeks. All of which suggests to me that Cooper doesn’t work in your department. What’s his involvement with this case?”

Swanson sighed heavily. “Cooper doesn’t work for me, at least not directly. I can’t tell you more than that.”

Leopold sat in silence for several seconds before replying. “I’m sorry, superintendent. I can’t assist if you won’t be fully honest with me.”

Leopold stood and turned to leave.

“Okay, wait,” said Swanson, getting to his feet. “Please, sit down.”

Swanson gestured to the empty chair and Leopold sat down again.

“We picked up a message from the FBI that one of their persons of interest had landed on British soil two weeks ago, on the first of June,” said Swanson, settling back into his chair. “He’s wanted for questioning in connection with a spree of murders in his home-town of Portland, Oregon. No arrest warrant yet, which is why he managed to get on a plane, but we have a long-standing agreement with the US authorities to keep each other in the loop. An agreement like that, between two foreign nations, does not go unchecked.”

“Understood,” said Leopold. “Which means that if Cooper doesn’t work here, I assume he’s MI5?”

“Of course, I can’t confirm that,” said Swanson, avoiding eye contact. “But I can assure you that he’s been thoroughly vetted and will provide invaluable support during this investigation. He also has contacts within Whitehall that could prove invaluable.”

“Fine,” said Leopold. “Has this person of interest been detained?”

“No. Cooper can’t approach him in case his cover is blown, and we need to keep him incognito. We actually have no legal grounds to bring him in for questioning, which is why we need some help. Off the books, you understand.”

“Naturally,” said Leopold, leaning back in his chair. “What’s this man’s name?”

“Kandinski. George Kandinski.”

“And I assume you are under the impression he is responsible for a homicide on British soil?”

“Precisely. We got the red flag that he had touched down, just a few days before we find a body with injuries closely matching the MO of the Portland killer. A week later, we find another one, and a body was found early this morning that we think is linked. If he’s the one responsible, we need to bring him in before he does any more damage.”

“Do you have anything tying him to the crimes?” said Leopold.

“Well, that’s the problem,” said Swanson. “There isn’t any evidence linking him to any crime within British borders, nor any international warrant for his arrest. We can bring him in for questioning, but we can only hold him for twenty-four hours before we have to let him go. Even sooner if he gets hold of a good solicitor. We need some solid evidence linking him to the killings.”

“And you want me to find it?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll need to know more about the case,” said Leopold. “Assuming both deaths were homicide, I’ll need to examine the bodies.”

“They are most definitely homicides,” said Swanson. “You can take a look at the bodies. I’ll take you down to the mortuary right now, it’s not far.”

“Excellent. Lead the way.”

Swanson stood up and made for the door before pausing. “Have you had lunch yet?”

“No. That’s the second time I’ve been asked that question,” said Leopold. “If you insist, we can grab a bite to eat on the way.”

“No, it’s not that,” said Swanson, opening the door. “Its just that I would strongly recommend having an empty stomach for this one.”

Departed
is scheduled for release in Spring 2013. For updates, news, and the chance to receive a free promotional copy of the upcoming book, just sign up to the
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