The Coercion Key (8 page)

Nicky folded her arms defiantly and Annette gave a sceptical, “Mmm…”

Craig laughed and turned back to Davy. “What about the suicide notes, Davy? Anything there?”

“No, s…sorry. Des says there are no prints but the victims’ on any of them. Hand-written on s…standard paper.” His face lit up. “But the phone-call you got was a bit tasty. The report came back from linguistics this morning.”

He rushed to his desk and came back with a piece of paper, while Annette prised the beach photograph she’d passed around out of Liam’s reluctant hand.

“OK. The report says that the caller w…was male.”

“That was pretty obvious!”

Davy gave Liam a triumphant look. “No, it w…wasn’t actually. I only gave linguistics the w…written text; I didn’t tell them that it was a man who’d phoned.”

“How’d they know then?”

Craig intervened. “Speech patterns. Now shut-up and let Davy report, Liam.”

Liam snorted. “You mean men’s speech patterns are different from women’s? I could have told you that years ago. Men only talk when we’ve something worth saying.”

Nicky and Annette rounded on him together. “Shut-up.”

Liam shrugged and Davy carried on. “The phrasing and vocabulary indicates s…someone educated, like you said, chief. University or college.”

“They’re sure, Davy?”

“Certain. More than that. The w…wording in the phone call, ‘You would see both those things as a challenge’ indicates a particular use of English. I know you said he had a local accent but the language indicates that the caller spent some time in England, probably in London or the south-east.”

“Anything on their age?”

“No. They said that it was more likely that they were older than thirty, but if younger they could have s…spent time around older people.”

“He was somewhere in his twenties or thirties, I’m sure of that.” Craig paused then turned to Nicky. “Nick, get permanent recording and traces on my mobile and desk-phone until I say stop. I want his voice on tape next time.” He turned back to Davy. “Anything else on that, Davy?”

“Nope. S…Shall I go on to the USB now?”

Craig saw the other’s blank faces and shook his head. “I’ll update everyone first then we’ll come back to that.”

Over the next five minutes he brought them up to date on Victoria Linton’s suicide scene and his and Des’ findings. The padded envelope marked ‘private’ that she’d received at work, and the note that had accompanied it, mysteriously inviting her to look at her past. When Craig reached the description of the USB, Annette gasped.

“What is it, Annette?”

“I’m not sure, sir, just something you said rang a bell. Let me think about it and I’ll get back to you.”

Craig updated them on his road trip with Des. “We were sure that we’d find something and we did. An identical USB was found in Nelson Warner’s effects.”

“With the key cover, sir?”

“Yes, Jake. Why? Is that significant in some way?”

Jake frowned in concentration then nodded his head hesitantly. “It’s probably just me being ridiculous, but when I was a kid there was a computer game we used to play a lot.”

Something occurred to Craig and he interrupted. “How old were you when you played it?”

“About fourteen or fifteen. It was all the rage at school.”

“And you’re twenty-eight now, is that right?”

“Twenty–nine next month.”

Nicky mentally added the fact to her team birthday list as Craig continued. “So this game might have been popular with anyone who’s around their late twenties or early thirties now?”

“Yes. It was rated 16 so it was mainly played by A Level students. Parents wouldn’t have bought it for anyone younger, that’s why we played it at school.”

“That fits with the age of the man who called me. OK, Jake, sorry for interrupting. Carry on.”

“Well, the game had several levels of difficulty, like they usually have, and when you reached the top level you got a key that allowed you to open a door. Behind it was a great treasure and you had to fight your way through a series of opponents to reach it.”

Davy cut in. “Sounds like a cool game. What was it called?”

“Justification.”

Craig’s ears perked up. “Justification as in it was OK to kill your opponents to get to the treasure?”

“Basically, yes. But also, you had to kill to get through the levels as well. You could do whatever it took to get to your goal, including killing anyone who tried to prevent you, in any way that you fancied. The ends justified the means, hence the title.”

Davy nodded. “I remember it now. My mum wouldn’t buy it for me ‘cos I w…was too young and she said it was immoral. The older boys at s…school played it all the time.”

Annette sniffed. “It certainly sounds immoral, giving children permission to behave as badly as they want and rewarding them for it. I never let Jordan and Amy play computer games. You never know what goes on in there.”

Jake shrugged. “I turned out all right.”

Liam tapped the side of his nose. “We only have your word for that, son.”

Craig waved them into silence and turned back to Jake. “What about the key, Jake?”

“Let me draw it then you can tell me if it looks anything like your USB.”

He grabbed a sheet of paper from Nicky’s printer and sketched quickly with his pen. When he was satisfied Jake turned the page round. The grin that covered Craig’s face said it all. The gothic design on Jake’s page exactly matched the key-shaped cover they’d found on Victoria Linton’s and Nelson Warner’s memory sticks, down to the ornate scrollwork down its shank. Craig seized the page urgently.

“What was the key made of, Jake?”

“Sir?”

“In your game. What metal?”

“Oh, right. It was anything you fancied it being. You could choose. Why?”

Craig smiled, realising that they were on to something. “Not specifically platinum?”

Jake shook his head. “Why platinum?”

“That’s what Linton’s and Warner’s keys were made of.”

“You could have chosen platinum I suppose, but most people I knew chose gold.”

Annette interjected. “That’s what most kids would think of as the most valuable metal, even nowadays. The choice of platinum might mean something specific to our killer.”

Jake continued. “I think the whole game was really supposed to signify the corrupting influence of greed, or the dangers of desire or something like that, but the message was totally lost on kids.” He smiled, remembering. “I used to play it for hours on end unless my mum took it off me.”

Liam rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Wasn’t that the game that was banned in the States?”

Jake nodded excitedly. “In the Bible belt, yes. They said it was the Devil’s work.”

They chatted about the game for a moment until Liam realised that Craig wasn’t joining in. He was sitting quietly with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Penny for them, boss?”

Craig started talking slowly, as if he was working things out as he spoke.

“Jake’s drawing of the key matches the cover of Warner’s and Linton’s USBs exactly… down to the scroll work on its shaft. The key’s design was copied directly from Jake’s game. That means our perp played it and… the deaths are probably being justified as a means to an end as well… again, like in the game.”

Annette cut in. “So what’s their treasure at the end?”

“I don’t know. It could be money, power, anything, but I’m pretty sure that in their mind our four victims had to be killed so that they could reach it.” He glanced at Jake urgently. “How many opponents were behind the locked door in the game, Jake?”

“I can’t… no, hold on, I can remember. There was no number put on them. As soon as one was killed another one sprang up.”

“So how did you ever reach the treasure?”

“You just had to keep killing more brutally until you got close enough to touch it, then your enemies suddenly disappeared into thin air.”

“Do you still have a copy of ‘Justification’, Jake?”

Jake blushed to the roots of his hair and Liam caught on instantly.

“He still plays it! You big kid, McLean.”

Craig gazed at him hopefully. “Do you, Jake?”

Jake nodded.

“Can you go home and collect it now? I want to look at it ASAP.”

“It’ll take me about an hour, if that’s OK?”

Craig glanced at the clock. It was almost five p.m. “Would you mind? I think it’s best if we view it tonight.”

“No problem. Aaron’s away in London for work so I’d only be sitting at home alone. I’ll be back by six.”

It was the first time Jake had mentioned his partner in front of everyone and Craig was pleased that he had.

“OK. I need to go to the lab to see John and Des, so I’ll be back by then.”

Suddenly there was a loud gasp. “Oh my God!”

Everyone turned towards the source of the exclamation. It was Nicky. She looked horrified.

“You realise what this means, don’t you?”

Everyone looked blank.

“It means they’ll keep killing anyone who gets in their way, and we’ve all just been added to their list.”

Chapter Eight

John stared at the key in front of him and then slid it back across the desk to Des, grinning at his moustache.

“You really need to put wax on it for the best effect, Des.”

Des screwed up his face in disgust. “Candle wax! Why the hell would I do that? It would make it stick out.”

John laughed loudly. “Not candle wax, you Muppet. Hair wax. You know, like that stuff Marc puts on his hair to make it stick up.”

“Does he? I thought it stuck up like that all by itself.”

John thought for a moment and then shrugged, conceding that he was right. Craig’s thick black hair had been like that since school, especially when he raked it with his hands. If anything wax would have smoothed it down.

“Well anyway, it’s some sort of wax. You can buy it in hair salons.”

Des stared at him sceptically. “Do I look like I go to hair salons, John?”

John gazed at his bushy hair and smiled, conceding. “Anyway, what about this key then?”

“It’s platinum and it was the cover of a USB found at Victoria Linton’s home. It had the suicide note on it in a document file. We found a second one in Nelson Warner’s effects. Exactly the same but with a different number.”

“Number?”

“Yes, Victoria Linton’s file had a number on it: 111012. Warner’s was 740150. The others had numbers as well.”

“I didn’t see any numbers.”

Des shook his head. “Long story. Anyway, I’ve no idea what they mean. I’ve sent them over for Davy to take a look.”

“They’re probably some sort of code.” John paused for a moment. “Keys and codes, this is turning into some sort of kid’s game.”

Just then Craig pushed open John’s office door and overheard the remark.

“A kid’s game. You’re exactly right.”

He stared pointedly at the coffee machine and John took the hint, brewing a fresh pot.

“I wasn’t expecting you, Marc. Something up?”

Craig glanced at their faces in turn, trying to work out how best to tell them about the threat. He’d made a mess of it with Liam and Annette, so he decided to try a gentler approach. He led off with Jake’s computer game and meandered round to the transcript of the phone call.

“So we think we’re looking at a man, late twenties or early thirties who’s masterminding the suicides somehow. The design of the key seems to be linked with this ‘Justification’ game that Jake played in his teens.”

Des interrupted. “You think our killer played it?”

“It fits with the caller’s age.”

It was as good a lead-in as any to the threat on all their lives. Craig took a deep draught of his coffee then set it down and gave them a solemn look.

“He called again. Today at about two-thirty.”

John leaned forward eagerly. “And? Was he annoyed that you hadn’t backed off?”

Craig gave him a rueful look. “You could say that. He basically promised he was going to harm one of the team next.”

John laughed automatically, certain that Craig was joking, until he saw the solemn expression on his face. “Oh crap, you think he’s serious, don’t you?”

Craig nodded imperceptibly and took another sip of his drink. Des watched the exchange with a puzzled look.

“Are you telling me that this bastard’s going to kill one of your team, Marc?”

Craig nodded. “That’s about the size of it. And that means both of you as well. Anyone who’s helping on this case is in danger now.”

John’s jaw dropped and Craig was certain that he saw Des’ moustache begin to droop.

“You’re probably safe enough during the day while you’re here, although I would stay away from any windows that are overlooked, just in case he has a gun. But you’ll both need close protection officers.”

Des went to protest but Craig stilled him with a glance. “Remember what happened to the nurse who ignored her protection officer last year, Des?”

Des nodded slowly. Craig was talking about the Murray-Hill case twelve months before. A nursing sister involved in the case, Laurie Johns, had slipped away from her protection officer and ended up dead.

“I’m sorry, both of you, but this sort of threat is always a risk in a serial case. Thankfully it doesn’t happen often. Nicky and Davy have protection details as well and the rest of us are tooled up. Your protection officers are waiting outside. OK if I call them in?”

John said nothing just nodded and Craig wondered what was going through his mind. He made a call to the liveried car outside then put on some fresh coffee and waited for the knock on the door. It came a moment later. Craig opened the door, beckoning two people in. They both had the healthy glow and lean fitness typical of protection officers, but that was where their resemblance to police officers ended. They looked so unlike the average peeler that Des burst out laughing. He stopped himself abruptly, realising that it must have sounded rude. Craig made the introductions.

“John, this is your protection officer. Marlene Carey.”

He beckoned the officer forward and saw a smile cover John’s face. Marlene Carey was a highly skilled undercover officer, so deep undercover that she could have passed for a page three girl. Her curvy figure and long blonde hair belied a third Dan black belt in Karate and firearms skills up to wazoo. She extended a slim hand and shook John’s. “Nice to meet you, Dr Winter.”

Des wasn’t as fortunate. The officer who stepped up to protect him looked young enough to be his teenage son. Joseph Cohen was tall and tanned, with a shock of jet black hair. He looked more Italian than Craig did, although his family hailed from the middle-East. His accent however hailed from somewhere much closer to home.

“Shore and it’s grand to meet you, Dr Marsham. I’m shore we’ll get on foine and dandy.”

Cohen’s Dublin burr was so strong that Des only caught the gist of his words. He eyed the young man’s lean muscles and sucked in his stomach instantly. Des’ heart sank; with him in the house Annie was going to give him hell about eating too much. Craig waved the two C.P.O.s towards some chairs.

“Grab a seat and have a coffee.”

“Sarry, sor, I niver tuch the stuff.”

“I’ll have one, sir, thank you.”

Marlene Carey beamed at John and Craig knew that John was going to enjoy her company a bit too much. Natalie would soon put paid to that.

“Right. Officers Carey and Cohen will collect you in the mornings, stay here all day and escort you home in the evenings. They’ll hand over to the night shift who’ll keep watch outside your homes overnight.” He stared at John and Des pointedly. “I know you may find this restrictive but please cooperate with the officers and do exactly as they ask. They’re here to protect you, remember that.”

Craig handed Marlene her coffee and then headed for the door. “I’ll leave you to get acquainted. I’m heading back to the ranch to play a computer game.”

***

The pathologist was the weak link, even better now that they’d paired him with a girl for protection. Jenna normally persuaded people to commit suicide, loath to get her hands dirty, but she would make an exception this time. Craig needed to be distracted, enough so that he took his eye off the ball while she completed her ‘suicide’ list. Killing his best friend should do the trick.

Jenna turned her attention back to the computer screen in front of her and watched as the pile of dead bodies grew on the dungeon’s dark stone floor. Ten points for each one until she’d earned enough to get a stone tablet and progress to the next level. She flicked to the small Skype window set in the top right-hand corner of her screen and smiled coldly at the man who was her opponent for the day. They were anonymous people in a fantasy world, playing a game as if it was real life. The man had no idea that it was real-life for her. The game mattered more than anything in the world outside and it had done for almost twenty years.

***

7.30 p.m.

Craig and Jake played ‘Justification’ for an hour, until Craig was familiar with all the rules, which were basically zero. He could see why Jake was so keen on it; it was addictive. The concept of destroying anything that got in your way and justifying it as necessary, so that you were freed of guilt, was seductive.

They would examine the game again tomorrow but before Craig called it a night he had one last visit to make so that he could have peace of mind. He headed down the M3 motorway towards Holywood and his parents’ old-fashioned home. He’d already called Lucia, his younger sister, and asked her to meet him there. She’d been curious why but there was no way he was discussing things over the phone; if it had been easy for their perp to access his office phone a mobile would be a no-brainer.

Craig pulled his Audi into the wide suburban driveway and parked behind Lucia’s scrapheap of a car. Before he could even open his driver’s door he was greeted by a cacophony of noise. The two sounds he could distinguish clearly were his elderly Labrador Murphy barking, and his mother’s voice gabbling something in Italian. The rest would have to wait until he was inside the house.

Opening the front door didn’t enlighten Craig much but it shocked him a lot. Instead of his father Tom sitting as usual in his comfortable chair, he was standing in the hall waving something at his mother. His face was redder than Craig had ever seen it but the most shocking thing was that he was yelling, actually yelling, at his mum!

Tom Craig was a man who’d sat placidly for the whole of his married life in the eye of the storm created by his extrovert wife. Craig had never seen the positions reversed, but they were now. Mirella was standing, head bowed, meekly twisting a dishcloth in her hand, while Lucia tried to calm their ranting father down. It would have been almost amusing if Tom Craig hadn’t had a heart attack twelve months before.

Craig strode over and faced his father, blocking Craig Senior’s view of his wife. He placed his hands on his shoulders then glanced down at what was he was holding in his hand. It was a computer tablet, a high-end one that had probably cost a couple of grand. Craig wondered where he’d got it from then he remembered his father’s part-time job. Tom Craig had lectured in physics at a local University until he’d retired and since then he’d written freelance science articles for a local rag. It was the perfect job for him. It gave him permission to sit and read the scientific journals that he loved reading anyway, and the perfect excuse to avoid doing any housework for his wife. Mirella didn’t mind; she was just happy to have him there while she flitted around the house tidying, or practiced her piano for the many recitals she gave. It was an arrangement that suited them both and helped generate the gentle banter that kept their marriage alive.

Craig stood nose-to-nose with his father, staring at his bright red face. This was no banter; his father was genuinely angry. For a moment Craig wondered whether he’d really inherited his temper from his mother, as he’d always thought. Tom Craig kept on yelling as Mirella gabbled pathetically until finally Craig had had enough and he shouted so loudly that Lucia burst out laughing, ruining the effect.

“Be quiet, both of you!”

The voices stopped abruptly and the only noise to be heard was Murphy barking, until Craig shot the dog a look that silenced him as well. When the room was finally quiet Craig removed his hands from his father’s shoulders and stood back, scanning everyone’s faces for answers. Lucia was stifling a giggle, his mother was close to tears and his father was glancing down at the device in his hand with a furious expression on his face.

“Now. Dad. Will you please tell me what this is all about?”

Before Tom Craig had time to speak Mirella leapt into the gap.

“He blame me, but I not know why.” She waved her dishcloth at the device. “Stupid machine. Good for nothing.”

Craig shot her a warning glance but softened it with a smile. She smiled back and clammed up. He turned back to his father.

“Dad?”

Tom Craig squinted at his wife. “Your mother took it into her head to be helpful.”

Mirella started again and Craig could see that she was close to tears. “I try to help. It was dirty.”

“Mirella! Let me speak.”

She clammed up again and Craig’s father continued. “She thought that my brand new, eighteen-hundred-pound touch-screen, wireless computer pad was dirty. So instead of wiping it with a cloth like any normal person would, your mother…”

The emphasis on ‘your’ made both Craig and Lucia smile. Mirella had always referred to them as ‘your’ children when they’d done something wrong, now their father was using the tactic in reverse.

Tom Craig was still speaking. “…decided, in her infinite wisdom, to put it in the dishwasher. The dishwasher, for God’s sake! Of all the idiotic...”

So that was it. His father never lost his temper over anything; in fact Craig could hardly recall another occasion. But Mirella had destroyed the most precious thing he possessed; his shiny computer pad. Tom Craig turned to his son for agreement that Mirella had committed the most heinous crime, but he was sadly disappointed. Craig laughed and then Lucia laughed. When Mirella saw her children laughing she knew that she’d won, so she laughed as well and then stuck her tongue out at their father behind his back. Tom Craig looked fit to be tied, but Craig nodded him to a seat and took the pad from his hand.

“Dad, calm down. It might work when it dries out, but if not it’ll be covered by the insurance. If it isn’t I’ll buy you another one. Chill out, will you. Mum meant it kindly.”

Craig Senior shot him a look of disgust that he’d sided with the enemy, then he conceded grudgingly. “I suppose it is funny… in a way.”

Lucia interjected helpfully “It’ll make a great column for you next week, Dad. You can talk about repairs and insurance policies or something.”

Tom Craig perked up and smiled at his younger child. “That’s a good idea.” Then he gazed at his wife with a sheepish look and beckoned her over. “I’m sorry, Mirella. I shouldn’t have got so angry.”

She kissed his forehead affectionately. “You can have temper once in life, but never again.” She turned and flicked her dishcloth at her son. “Now it is Tuesday and we see Marco and Lucia for change, so I cook wonderful dinner and we talk.”