The Rain Killer (6 page)

‘It’s a murder case,’ Sean explained, watching Daiyu moving uncomfortably in her chair.

‘Go on,’ Chopra encouraged.

‘The man who’s been murdering the prostitutes,’ Sean admitted.

‘The Reaper?’ Chopra checked. ‘You want Daiyu to help you catch The Reaper?’

‘I believe his preferred choice of victim is young Southeast Asian women,’ Sean told them. ‘I also believe he regularly cruises the streets searching for victims that match what he’s looking for. He doesn’t wait for any given time period. If the victim’s right and the weather’s right, then he’ll strike.’

‘The weather?’ Daiyu asked.

‘He only kills in the rain,’ Sean told her straight, making Daiyu and Chopra look at each other.

‘And you want to use Daiyu as a decoy?’ Chopra guessed. ‘Put her on the streets and see if you can’t get him to take the bait?’

‘In a nutshell,’ Sean agreed. ‘With the usual safeguards, of course.’

‘I don’t like risky decoy ops and neither does the Assistant Commissioner,’ Chopra told him. ‘Too many moving parts to go wrong.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Daiyu interrupted, making them both stop and stare at her. ‘I’ll do it. Christ, anything to get out of that bloody restaurant. I didn’t join the police to wait tables.’

‘It’s an important operation,’ Chopra reminded her.

‘I know,’ she agreed, ‘but it’s all I’ve done for the last two years. I could do with a break. Something different.’

‘I can certainly promise you that,’ Sean assured her.

‘Yeah,’ Chopra warned her. ‘Standing out in the freezing cold and rain waiting for a killer to drag you in his car.’

‘It won’t come to that,’ Sean reassured him.

‘Won’t it?’ Chopra snapped a little.

‘You owe me, Arif,’ Sean reminded him. ‘I went to prison for you, remember?’

‘Prison?’ Daiyu sounded alarmed.

‘Undercover in prison,’ Chopra calmed her fears, ‘to infiltrate a paedophile gang.’ She nodded her understanding. Chopra sighed before giving in. ‘Okay. I’ll persuade the Assistant Commissioner it’s a viable and safe deployment. So how d’you want this to work?’

‘We’ll arrange a flat for Daiyu to live and work from,’ Sean began. ‘We’ll keep her away from police premises throughout and communication will be mainly by phone, but when we have to meet it’ll be somewhere safe. Sounds like we’re going to need a cover story, too. You can’t just go missing from the restaurant in Chinatown.’

‘I’ll tell them I have to go back to China to look after my sick father,’ Daiyu suggested.

‘That’ll work,’ Chopra agreed. ‘We already have a back story in place if anyone checks on it.’

‘Fine,’ Sean agreed before continuing. ‘We’ll have Vice roll by a couple of times while you’re on the streets – may even have you arrested. It’ll give you credibility with the other working girls and should our man be watching you it’ll convince him you’re the real deal. They’ll also pose as customers so you’ll be seen getting into cars with punters.’

‘What about real punters?’ Daiyu asked.

‘If they’re not Southeast Asian get rid of them,’ Sean told her.

‘How?’

‘You’re an undercover police officer,’ he reminded her. ‘If you can’t think on your feet maybe you shouldn’t be doing this.’

‘Fine,’ she quickly answered. ‘I’ll think of something.’

‘Tell them you’re already booked and you’re just waiting for your trick to turn up,’ Sean eased up on her and tried to help. ‘As far as I’m concerned, if they’re not a viable suspect you can tell them you’re a cop if it gets rid of them. It’s not like they’re going to tell anyone.’

‘Okay,’ she nodded.

‘And you’ll be wearing a covert monitor at all times, so we’ll hear everything you do, but it’s only one-way. We can’t communicate back with you, otherwise you’d have to wear an earpiece and that’s not viable, but we’ll be watching you all the time – just keep talking so we know what’s happening and that you’re okay. Understand?’ She nodded that she did, and although Sean could feel her tension, he sensed her excitement too.

‘We’re going to target the Shoreditch area,’ he explained, ‘and concentrate all our efforts there.’

‘Any particular reason?’ Chopra asked.

‘Firstly Vice tell us there’s no pimps working the area,’ Sean answered. ‘So you won’t have to worry about someone trying to roll you over. Secondly it’s the easiest-looking area for us to keep a close eye on you and lastly, it’s the area where the killer first struck, but he hasn’t been back there since. If he’s deliberately altering his target areas, which I think he is, the most likely area he could return to would be Shoreditch.’

‘Why return there at all?’ Chopra asked.

‘Because he’s almost run out of specific areas frequented by prostitutes,’ Sean explained. ‘He’s done Streatham, the back streets of Brixton, King’s Cross and Paddington. Where else can he go but start revisiting places he’s already been?’ He pulled a brand new mobile phone from his coat pocket and handed it to Daiyu who tentatively accepted it. ‘It’s an untraceable pay-as-you go phone,’ he told her. ‘Never been used before. The memory’s empty except for the number of another untraceable phone that I’ll keep with me throughout. If you need to speak to me, anytime, you use this phone and only this phone.’

‘You’ll need more numbers in it than that,’ Chopra told them. ‘I’ll text you a list you can add to the contacts to make it look more genuine. They’re all monitored so they’ll be no problem giving you some back history and credibility, but you’ll need to work out a false history for yourself – something that gives you a reason to have become a street prostitute.’

‘I’ll think of something,’ she told them.

‘Well you’d better be quick,’ Sean warned her. ‘I need this op up and running within two days. You’d better have your legend down tight by then or the other working girls will rumble you.’

‘I’ve been undercover for two years,’ she reminded him. ‘I know how to lie, Sergeant. It’s all I ever do.’

‘Good,’ Sean replied without a hint of irony. ‘Just don’t lie to me. This gets too much for you, you tell me straight away.’

‘Of course.’

‘Then we’re on,’ Chopra interrupted, ‘and good luck. You’re going to need it.’

Daiyu shivered relentlessly as she stood in the doorway of a long since abandoned shop on a run-down, dead-end street in Shoreditch. The night was black as oil, the freezing temperature exacerbated by the pouring rain – her provocative clothes wholly inadequate for keeping her warm and dry. She knew what the terrible weather could mean.

She’d already been picked up twice that night – both times by undercover Vice officers posing as customers, giving her a chance to warm up and drink something hot. But now she was back in the doorway with the cold cutting through to her bones. She checked her phone for the time and saw it was almost 1am – round about the time the postmortems indicated the killer usually struck. She felt a chill go up her spine that had little to do with the cold and tried to reassure herself that she was well-covered by Sean’s team, even if she couldn’t see them or hear them.

DS Corrigan interested her. So intense and determined. From the little that DS Chopra had told her it was clear he was a risk-taker too. Working undercover in a prison took some courage, but would he be as willing to risk the lives of others as he was his own? Would he take such risks with her life? She reckoned he’d be a pain in the backside to work for, although she had little doubt he got results. It seemed to grow even colder and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

Approaching headlights snapped her from her thoughts and stiffened her frail body. Was it the undercover Vice cop sent to pick her up and take her home? Had Corrigan decided it was too cold to leave her out any longer? Or maybe something else had happened to bring a halt to the operation for the night, or even forever? Maybe the killer had been caught some other way? But as the car cruised slowly towards her the survival instinct she’d developed and honed while being permanently undercover kicked in and told her the approaching car wasn’t being driven by a Vice cop – it was something else.

‘There’s a car approaching,’ she said as loudly as she dared into the covert microphone sewn into the lapel of her flimsy jacket – silently praying her security team could hear her. ‘I can’t make out the model or colour yet. Stand by.’ The car was close now, too close for her to speak like a cop anymore. Her speech would have to be natural, with the covering team working out what was going on from her conversation. The glare of the headlights in the rain was almost blinding. Fear and panic rose in her chest, but she held her ground and faked a smile for the approaching driver to see. The car drove straight past her, heading towards the dead end. ‘The vehicle’s gone straight on,’ she told the microphone as her heart rate slowed and her stomach stopped twisting – helping her think. ‘It’s a red Vauxhall Vectra sierra-victor-zero-three-oscar-victor-papa. Wait,’ she warned whoever was listening. ‘It’s turning round. It’s heading back this way, slowly. One – I think male – occupant. Can’t be sure of his IC code.’

Her heart rate accelerated and her stomach tightened as the car moved towards her before pulling up at the kerb, the driver’s window winding down as the man looked across the pavement. Fear threatened to overtake her as she realized he was Chinese. ‘The vehicle has stopped,’ was the last clear instruction she could give.

Even before they’d spoken she somehow knew this was the killer and that Corrigan had been right. She desperately tried to remember all the instructions she’d been given in the event of an approach by a viable suspect, but now, faced with a man who she was sure was the killer, her mind fogged. She kept smiling and breathed the freezing air in deeply to help clear her mind – everything Corrigan had told her in her numerous briefings coming back to her bit-by-bit, including his clear orders not to get into the car.
Never get into the car. The forensic evidence alone will hang him
.

The man gestured for her to come. She took one last breath through her nose and headed from the doorway into the rain, the freezing drops knocking the air from her lungs as she almost ran to the open window, her jacket pulled over her head now to protect her from the weather, and to ensure the microphone would be only a few centimetres from her mouth. She remembered her coded lines to let the team know the driver was Southeast Asian. As soon as she reached the car she said, ‘Looking for a little taste of the old country?’ She expected the team to swoop within seconds, but time seemed to have slowed to a stop.

‘Get in,’ he told her with a smile.

‘We need to discuss business first,’ she stalled.

‘I have money,’ he assured her. ‘Price is not important. Get in.’

She glanced up and down the street, hoping to see approaching headlights, even flashing blue lights, but there was nothing except rain. ‘We should agree a price first,’ she played for time.

‘It’s too cold out there,’ he told her. ‘Too much rain. Get in the car and we’ll agree a price.’ Again she glanced up and down the street. ‘You okay?’ he asked. ‘You looking for someone?’

‘No,’ she lied and managed a fake smile.
Never get in the car. Never get in the car
. ‘I just like to get the business out the way first, you know.’

‘Maybe some other time,’ he told her and put the car into gear as if he was about to pull away.

‘Okay,’ she found herself telling him – the fear of losing him, the fear of failure overriding the fear for herself. ‘Wait there.’ She moved as slowly as she dared around the back of the car, making her way to the front passenger door, all the while checking for her backup, but still no one came. Her hand rested on the door handle as she whispered into the hidden microphone, ‘I’m getting in the car. I hope to God you can hear this.’ She popped the door open and slid inside, her heart hammering so hard she thought the driver must have been able to hear it.
Why had she got in the car? Why the hell had she got in the car?

***

‘Jesus Christ.’ Sean scrambled to put his unmarked car into gear and pull away from the kerb. ‘What the hell’s she think she’s doing? I told her –
don’t get in the car. Whatever you do – don’t get in the car.
She’s just supposed to keep him talking.’

‘We’re too far away,’ Townsend complained. ‘If he drives off they’ll be out of the dead end and into the main road before we reach them. We should have been closer.’

‘And risk being seen?’ Sean argued above the screeching of the engine. ‘I couldn’t take that chance. We were only ever going to get one shot at this.’

‘We put her in danger,’ Townsend snapped back.

‘It’s her job to be put in danger,’ Sean coldly told her.

Townsend didn’t reply – focusing on speaking into her handheld radio instead. ‘All units move in on the hurry up. Repeat – all units move in on the hurry up. The UC is in the suspect’s vehicle – a red Vauxhall Vectra – index sierra-victor-zero-three-oscar-victor-papa. Repeat a red Vauxhall Vectra – index sierra-victor-zero-three-oscar-victor-papa.’ She lowered the radio from her mouth and turned to Sean. ‘If he drives off with her in the car and hits the main road we could lose her in the traffic. If we lose her …’ She didn’t need to spell it out – they both knew what the consequences could be.

‘If that happens she’d better find a way of letting us know where she is,’ Sean told her. ‘She can’t hear us, but we can still hear her. If she doesn’t and he drives off – then she’s on her own.’

***

As soon as Daiyu closed the door the man pulled away from the kerb and accelerated away. ‘Wait,’ she told him, failing to hide her anxiety. ‘I thought we were going to discuss money. We can do that here.’

‘I told you. Don’t worry about the money. I’ll pay you what you want.’

‘Fine,’ she pretended to agree. ‘Then let’s do it here.’

‘Here’s no good,’ he insisted. ‘Too much streetlight. You know some other place?’

‘Yeah. Sure,’ she lied, grabbing the opportunity to control their movements. ‘Turn left into Pitfield Street and head north.’

‘I don’t need to know names of streets,’ he told her, giving her a suspicious glance. ‘Just tell me when and where to turn.’