Instead of Devlin slowly coming to figure out what's going on with the serial killings he's accused of, he offered up the idea that his interrogation after assaulting Reg is used to soften him up to see if he will help the police get close to man they have under surveillance for the crimes. They can't touch him due to diplomatic immunity...but that don't mean they can't play dirty...
I'd say this is about 1/3 of the way into the story, now. Sir Monte is the Chief of the investigation and Four-buttons is probably a psychiatrist, but he never admits it. Savile Row is the man Dev saw on the Piccadilly Line, before he focused on Reg.
----------
First, I was set free...well, not completely free. They kept my passport so I couldn’t leave the country, and I had to check in with Sir Monte’s shadow once a day, or else. But with as much efficiency as when I’d been brought in everything was returned to me. In a complete mess but all there. When I asked about my passport, a clerk handed me a receipt and said, "If anyone asks to see it, give 'em this." Then Sir Monte put me in a car and we drove away, with Four-buttons beside me in the back seat.
He opened a folder and showed me a surveillance photo; it was of Savile Row.
“This is what you normally talk into your bed, isn’t it?” he asked in a way that needed no answer.
I nodded. “I saw him on the train. Almost went for him instead of Reg.”
“His name is Tafiq al Qasimi. He’s an Arab Muslim and has more than a slight connection to all four dead men.”
“Then bring him in.”
“We can’t. The evidence is, at best, circumstantial and he has diplomatic protection.”
“So why’re you tellin’ me this?”
“Pope,” Sir Monte snarled, “stop being so damn thick.”
Four-buttons took the photo back. “You made some rather incredible claims, during our interrogation. Claims which, if we read prior accusations against you, carefully, do not sound improbable.”
“You want me to seduce him? Fuck him? See if he keeps a diary to steal?”
Sir Monte took in a deep breath and muttered, “We want you to do whatever it takes to get to him and see if you can gather some evidence we can’t get.”
“Haven’t you got a gay cop who can do that?”
“We tried. He was unsuccessful.”
“He was the same physical type as the others,” said Four-button, “but al Qasimi proved uninterested.”
I took the photo back and looked at it. “Do you have other pictures?”
He showed me a couple dozen more. All surveillance. They’d been shadowing this guy for a while.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “If you were watchin’ this guy so close, how was able to kill Perriman?”
“We had two other officers on that train. When Thornton vanished an alert went out. They followed al Qasimi off at Hatton Cross but were met by a car and were brought straight back. They’d seen you and could help find you while we scoured the CCTV. We thought, for a moment, we had the wrong man under surveillance. We were proven wrong.”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “This guy’s too damn neat to be out to kill anyone. And I think he made your cop out to be gay, and he’s not into gay men. At least...not if they’re out and proud. Was he? Your cop?”
“...Yes,” said Four-buttons.
“He’s deep in the closet.” Four-buttons was nodding, his eyes locked on me. “But you already know that.” I got a half-smile, in answer. “You sure the victims weren’t hidin' their interest, too?”
“We have found nothing in their backgrounds to indicate they enjoyed homosexual encounters.”
“But hasn’t he been with other guys -- ?”
“There is only such much investigation we can do,” said Sir Monte, “without arousing problems with the Foreign Office. Once that happens...who knows what obstructions will arise?”
“But he had a connection to these four guys.”
“Only a tenuous one, but...”
I finally got it. They wanted me to find out if he was focused on anyone else he had a tenuous connection to. Maybe prevent another death.
We stopped in front of the same hotel I’d checked out of, just hours before; Sir Monte insisted, and he made sure he knew what room I was in by escorting me up to it.
“I don’t like this idea, Pope,” he said as I unlocked my door, “but when dealing with evil, you cannot always play by the rules of the good. Sometimes evil must be used to defeat evil.”
“And I’m your kind of evil.”
“You’re a gamble we’re taking. What few people seem to understand about serial killers is, they appear to be good, normal people so get away with their crimes for years before making a mistake bad enough to bring them down. I don’t want to wait and have any more dead men’s families to face.”
“What if I get killed?”
“You will be given a hero’s burial.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I suggest you find a solicitor and barrister, and Queen’s Counsel will be in contact with them.” Then a cold, cruel gleam entered his eyes. “And we will send Thornton back out to try and decoy him, again. He wants to go. Who knows? This time, we might be successful.”
Ice shot through my veins and I clenched my jaw to keep from shivering, but the bastard still noticed. He had me and he damn well knew it.
I let out a long, deep breath and murmured, “You’re right; I should never have fucked with you.”
“Nice to have that understood.” Then he left, and I was stuck with paying the equivalent of nearly $150 a night till this was settled. Shit.
SHIT!
First, I was set free...well, not completely free. They kept my passport so I couldn’t leave the country, and I had to check in with Sir Monte’s shadow once a day, or else. But with as much efficiency as when I’d been brought in everything was returned to me. In a complete mess but all there. When I asked about my passport, a clerk handed me a receipt and said, "If anyone asks to see it, give 'em this." Then Sir Monte put me in a car and we drove away, with Four-buttons beside me in the back seat.
He opened a folder and showed me a surveillance photo; it was of Savile Row.
“This is what you normally talk into your bed, isn’t it?” he asked in a way that needed no answer.
I nodded. “I saw him on the train. Almost went for him instead of Reg.”
“His name is Tafiq al Qasimi. He’s an Arab Muslim and has more than a slight connection to all four dead men.”
“Then bring him in.”
“We can’t. The evidence is, at best, circumstantial and he has diplomatic protection.”
“So why’re you tellin’ me this?”
“Pope,” Sir Monte snarled, “stop being so damn thick.”
Four-buttons took the photo back. “You made some rather incredible claims, during our interrogation. Claims which, if we read prior accusations against you, carefully, do not sound improbable.”
“You want me to seduce him? Fuck him? See if he keeps a diary to steal?”
Sir Monte took in a deep breath and muttered, “We want you to do whatever it takes to get to him and see if you can gather some evidence we can’t get.”
“Haven’t you got a gay cop who can do that?”
“We tried. He was unsuccessful.”
“He was the same physical type as the others,” said Four-button, “but al Qasimi proved uninterested.”
I took the photo back and looked at it. “Do you have other pictures?”
He showed me a couple dozen more. All surveillance. They’d been shadowing this guy for a while.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “If you were watchin’ this guy so close, how was able to kill Perriman?”
“We had two other officers on that train. When Thornton vanished an alert went out. They followed al Qasimi off at Hatton Cross but were met by a car and were brought straight back. They’d seen you and could help find you while we scoured the CCTV. We thought, for a moment, we had the wrong man under surveillance. We were proven wrong.”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “This guy’s too damn neat to be out to kill anyone. And I think he made your cop out to be gay, and he’s not into gay men. At least...not if they’re out and proud. Was he? Your cop?”
“...Yes,” said Four-buttons.
“He’s deep in the closet.” Four-buttons was nodding, his eyes locked on me. “But you already know that.” I got a half-smile, in answer. “You sure the victims weren’t hidin' their interest, too?”
“We have found nothing in their backgrounds to indicate they enjoyed homosexual encounters.”
“But hasn’t he been with other guys -- ?”
“There is only such much investigation we can do,” said Sir Monte, “without arousing problems with the Foreign Office. Once that happens...who knows what obstructions will arise?”
“But he had a connection to these four guys.”
“Only a tenuous one, but...”
I finally got it. They wanted me to find out if he was focused on anyone else he had a tenuous connection to. Maybe prevent another death.
We stopped in front of the same hotel I’d checked out of, just hours before; Sir Monte insisted, and he made sure he knew what room I was in by escorting me up to it.
“I don’t like this idea, Pope,” he said as I unlocked my door, “but when dealing with evil, you cannot always play by the rules of the good. Sometimes evil must be used to defeat evil.”
“And I’m your kind of evil.”
“You’re a gamble we’re taking. What few people seem to understand about serial killers is, they appear to be good, normal people so get away with their crimes for years before making a mistake bad enough to bring them down. I don’t want to wait and have any more dead men’s families to face.”
“What if I get killed?”
“You will be given a hero’s burial.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I suggest you find a solicitor and barrister, and Queen’s Counsel will be in contact with them.” Then a cold, cruel gleam entered his eyes. “And we will send Thornton back out to try and decoy him, again. He wants to go. Who knows? This time, we might be successful.”
Ice shot through my veins and I clenched my jaw to keep from shivering, but the bastard still noticed. He had me and he damn well knew it.
I let out a long, deep breath and murmured, “You’re right; I should never have fucked with you.”
“Nice to have that understood.” Then he left, and I was stuck with paying the equivalent of nearly $150 a night till this was settled. Shit.
SHIT!
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