The Last Temptation (32 page)

Luckily, years of guarding his face and tongue had allowed him to cover the worst of his confusion. At least, he thought it had. Whatever the truth of that view, she had shown no sign of being aware of the effect her appearance had on him. He’d been dry-mouthed and bemused, unnerved by a resemblance that stirred up the morass of memory.

And as if it wasn’t enough that he’d come face to face with

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a woman who could have been the twin sister of the woman he’d adored, the conversation had lurched into the most dangerous of areas almost from the beginning. This woman who made his stomach churn and his skin turn clammy knew who he really was, knew what he really did. Either she had discovered enough about his business to comprehend exactly what he needed right now, or else this was another example of the eccentric serendipity that had brought Katerina’s double to his door in the first place. Either way, it was a set of circumstances so strange it turned on its head everything he knew about how the world worked.

He had no idea how he’d managed to hold it together during their subsequent conversation, only that he’d never felt so relieved as he had when that apparently interminable first interval had drawn to a close. He’d sat through the next act oblivious to the music, completely absorbed in the private drama that had unfolded in his immediate ambit. The tension in his body had made his muscles ache, but he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.

He’d studied every feature in her face, comparing it to the database of images stored in his head. On closer inspection, he had become aware of discrepancies. Of course, the hair was different. The long cornsilk of his lover’s hair was far more beautiful than the short, thick blonde crop of this stranger, though it was clearly as natural a shade as Katerina’s. Their profiles were subtly distinct in ways he couldn’t quite gauge. Katerina’s eyes had been a deep hyacinth blue, but even in the dim light of the theatre, he could see that Caroline’s were grey blue. Their mouths were different too. Katerina’s lips had been sensuous, full, beautifully shaped, appearing always to be on the point of a kiss. This Englishwoman had thinner lips, her mouth promising far less than Katerina had always delivered. But when Caroline smiled, the contrast had disappeared and

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the resemblance had become even more profound. Seeing that mouth pronounce the familiar ‘Tadzio’ had disconcerted him more than almost anything else.

The strangest thing about his scrutiny of her face was that although he could see clearly that she wasn’t Katerina, those small variations only served to reinforce this interloper’s effect on him. She wasn’t Katerina, which was both a disappointment and a relief. But she was a woman who had the power to move him as no one had done since Katerina’s death. That was unnerving, but also fraught with strange possibilities. The notion of working with her made him both apprehensive and excited.

But not so excited that he had forgotten the basic rules of the game. As soon as the second act had ended, he had taken the first steps to find out what he could about Caroline Jackson. He remembered a man he’d met a couple of times when he’d been setting up the deal with Colin Osborne, Nick Kramer was another Essex boy who had worked with Colin in the past. He clearly wasn’t a lieutenant in the way that Darko was, and Tadeusz reckoned the main reason Colin had brought him along was to make it look as if the teams were even. Tadeusz, always covering the bases, still had Kramer’s number stored on his mobile phone.

Kramer had answered on the second ring. ‘Yeah?’ he grunted. ft

‘This is Colin’s German friend,’ Tadeusz said. ‘We met in London?’

‘Oh yeah, right, I remember you. What’s happening?’

‘I’ve come across someone who says she was a friend of Colin. I wondered if you knew her.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Caroline Jackson. She says they were looking to do some business.’

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There was a short pause. ‘I know the name. But I never met her. I’ve heard she’s in the same line of work as you and Colin. Runs an operation somewhere in East Anglia. Keeps herself to herself, by all accounts. Oh, and I heard that after Colin … died, her name came up when people was questioned. That’s all I know. Sorry I can’t be more help, mate.’

‘Do you know anyone who does know her?’

An exhalation of breath. ‘There’s this geezer out Chelmsford way. A friend of Charlie’s, if you get my meaning?’

A cocaine dealer, Tadeusz translated. ‘Do you have a number where I can contact him?’

‘Hang on a minute …’ The muffled sound of conversation. When Kramer returned, he reeled off a mobile phone number. ‘Tell him I said you were kosher.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Any time. Listen, you want to do some business - not the kind that breathes, the other kind - you gimme a call. I’m well up for it/ ,|

Til bear that in mind.’ Tadeusz ended the call. He didn’t think he’d be dealing drugs or guns with Nick Kramer any time soon. He hadn’t taken to the man, and on the evidence of this last conversation, he lacked discretion. He keyed in the number Kramer had given him and waited to be connected.

He was on the point of giving up when the phone was answered. A cautious voice said, ‘Hello?’

Tadeusz made a quick decision. ‘My name is Darko Krasic. Nick Kramer gave me your number.’

‘Do I know him?’

‘Well, he has your phone number.’

‘So does my local Indian takeaway.’

‘My boss and I used to do business with Colin Osborne.’

A snort of laughter. ‘He can’t give you much of a reference,

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now can he? Look, I don’t do business over the phone.’

‘Sure, I understand. All I’m looking for is a character reference. Somebody has applied to work with us, and Kramer seems to think you know her.’

‘I know a lot of people.’ The voice was cautious again.

‘Her name is Caroline Jackson.’

A long pause. ‘I know Caroline. What do you want to know?’

‘Whatever you can tell me.’

‘Fucking hell, you don’t want much, do you? Look, if you’re thinking about working with Caroline, all you need to know is that she’s a serious player. But she’s a loner. She doesn’t trust anybody with her business. She’s smart, she knows how to keep stumm, and she’s very fucking good at what she does. She wants to work with you, you should bite her fucking hand off, because you’re getting the opportunity to work with the best. OK?’

‘OK.’

‘Now you got what you wanted. Good night.’ The call ended abruptly, leaving Tadeusz feeling less uneasy than he had ten minutes previously. What he didn’t know was that he’d just been talking to one of Morgan’s undercover operatives, briefed to give Caroline Jackson as vivid a reality as possible.

Tadeusz had sat through the third act, brooding over his course of action. As The Cunning Little Vixen drew to a close, he came to a decision. He had to see the virtual reappearance of Katerina as a good omen. He’d go with his gut reaction and see what she had to offer him.

In the cold light of morning, the decision still felt like a good one. He wished he’d been able to talk it over with Darko, but his right-hand man wasn’t due back from Belgrade until that afternoon. And this was too important

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to entrust to telephones. He’d have to rely on his own intuition. He reached for the phone and dialled the number on the card she’d given him.

‘Hello?’ Her voice was already familiar.

‘Good morning, Caroline. It’s Tadeusz here.’

‘Good to hear from you.’

She sounded determined not to show any enthusiasm that might not be matched on his side. ‘I wondered if you might be free for lunch?’he asked.

‘That rather depends.’

‘On what?’

‘Whether it’s business or pleasure on the agenda,’ she said coolly.

‘I suspect that, with you, business would always be one f sort of pleasure or another,’ he said, an undertone of amuse- ” ment in his voice. He was surprised by how at ease he felt § flirting gently with her.

‘You didn’t answer my question.’

‘I think we may be able to do business,” he said. ‘But first, 1 we have to get to know each other a little better. You see, I | only deal with people when my instincts tell me they’re reli- able.’

‘Really?’ she asked, sounding incredulous. ‘And you still chose Colin?’

His source had been right. She was smart. ‘If that was such 1 a bad decision, then by your own admission, the condemna-i tion falls equally on your shoulders, Caroline,’ he pointed out.

‘ToucheY she said.

‘So, will we have lunch?’

‘If you can make it earlier rather than later. I have some important calls to make this afternoon.’

‘How is noon for you?’

‘I can do that.’

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Til send the car for you at eleven forty-five. I look forward to it’ i

‘Thanks, but I’ve got to go out this morning. I don’t know where I’ll be at eleven forty-five. Just tell me where to be, and I’ll get there for noon.’

He named the restaurant and gave her the address. ‘I look forward to seeing you,’ he added.

‘The feeling is mutual. See you later.’ The line went dead. So. To smart and discreet, add independent and wary. Caroline Jackson was beginning to intrigue him. And not just professionally. He found himself looking forward to lunch with an appetite that had nothing to do with food.

Tony stared at the screen. Petra had been as good as her word. The investigation reports from Bremen had been waiting for him when he’d arrived at her apartment, and he’d forced himself to put his feelings for Margarethe to one side and read them as objectively as he could. The fact that the killer had been interrupted had provided a few nuggets of information that might help as he went along, but the most telling details had come from Margarethe’s boyfriend, and these could be incorporated right away in his draft profile.

At this stage, it could only be a rough outline. There were things he still needed to do and see. He wanted to go to Bremen, partly to make his peace with Margarethe, but mostly to see the house where she had died, to see if the crime scene could tell him more about his prey. He needed better quality photographs of the crime scenes. But for now, he could make a start.

He loaded his word processing program and called up his personal template for profiles. It began with a standard disclaimer. This might be an informal, unofficial investigation, but that was no reason not to do things properly.

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The following offender profile is for guidance only and should not be regarded as an identikit portrait. The offender is unlikely to match the profile in every detail, though I would expect there to be a high degree of congruence between the characteristics outlined below and the reality. All of the statements in the profile express probabilities and possibilities, not hard facts.

A serial killer produces signals and indicators in the commission of his crimes. Everything he does is intended, consciously or not, as part of a pattern. Uncovering the underlying pattern reveals the kilkr’s logic. It may not appear logical to us, but to him it is crucial. Because his logic is so idiosyncratic, straightforward traps will not capture him. As he is unique, so must be the means of catching him, interviewing him and reconstructing his acts.

Tony then gave a brief overview of the three cases, with particular attention to the nature of the victims’ academic research. Moving on from there, and assimilating his new information, he wrote,

All academic psychologists who conduct experimental research on human subjects may be at risk from this killer. Given that Margarethe Schilling told her partner she was scheduled to meet a journalist representing a new psychology e-zine, it may be advisable to ask psychology lecturers to contact this investigation if they receive such an approach. However, it is clear that this poses potential problems. If the killer has links to the academic community, he may be privy to any such warning and alter his strategy accordingly. Furthermore, such a warning may provoke a panic response among those at risk. There is also the difficulty of the scale of the operation. The killer has already

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operated in two EU countries that we are aware of — Germany and Holland. There is no reason to suppose that this is the limit of his range.

What do we know of the killer from his actions so far?

i. Although there is almost certainly an element of sexual stimulus in the commission of these crimes, the motivation is not explicitly sexual. The victims do not correspond to any physical class and encompass both genders. It is therefore impossible to predict where he will strike next based on any superficial description of appearance. Contingent on this, and on the scalping of the pubic region (reducing his victims to something resembling a pre-pubertal state) I would suggest that the killer’s own sexuality is relatively unformed. By this I mean that he has never successfully established adult sexual relationships. He may have experienced sexual humiliation at an early age and decided that he was not prepared to expose himself to that again. At some level, he blames this inability to form normal sexual contacts on his victim group. I believe it is highly unlikely that he will be either married or in any sort of long-term relationship. He is most likely to be a single man with no history of emotional relationships with either sex.

So many reasons for the corruption of the sexual impulse, Tony thought sadly. His own experience of impotence, and the soul-searching journey that had taken him on, had given him a unique empathy with those whose natural desires had been morphed into something the rest of the world saw as perversion. There was always an explanation, always a sequence as unique as DNA that lay beneath these strange surfaces, and it was one of the many paradoxes of Tony’s life that what had given him so much personal pain had also

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