The Night Stalker (Detective Erika Foster 2)

‘There’s nowhere else in London with more eyes. The moment she makes herself known, we have her,’ said Marsh, scanning the wall of CCTV monitors.

‘And you think DCI Foster’s hunch is right, sir?’

‘It’s not a hunch, Sparks. You saw the material she sent through,’ said Marsh.

‘I did. But at no point is this woman named or described physically. Whatever happens, this is going to be bloody expensive.’

‘Leave me to worry about that. You do your job,’ said Marsh.

A young Asian guy approached and introduced himself. ‘I’m Tanvir. I’m supervising the control room today. We’ve got these four screens, which will be covering your key area,’ he said. On cue, a wide shot of the station clock flashed up. Below it stood Sergeant Crane, dressed in jeans and a light jacket, and clutching a cheap-looking bunch of roses.

‘Are you reading me, Crane?’ said Sparks, into his radio. ‘Touch your ear to show you can hear me.’

From the wide shot Crane looked normal, but a close-up from another angle showed he had tilted his head to his jacket lapels and was touching his free hand to his left ear. ‘You sure I don’t stand out? I’m the only one here in a jacket – it’s boiling hot!’ he said, his voice coming through the radio.

‘It’s all good, Crane. This Keith fellow arranged to meet her under the clock in half an hour. It’s romantic. It figures that he’d get dressed up,’ said Marsh into his radio, adding, ‘And it doesn’t show that you’re wired up. Now, no more chatting… we’ll keep you posted via radio.’

‘What time is it?’ asked Crane.

‘Jesus, he’s under a fucking clock,’ said Sparks. He grasped his radio. ‘It’s four-thirty. Look up next time you need to know.’

Marsh turned back to Tanvir. ‘Which camera gives us a view of the side entrance leading away from under the clock?’

‘Can you put camera seventeen up on these screens?’ said Tanvir to a woman wearing a headset by a computer in the corner. Another view of Crane from behind came into view, although this time it was from above an escalator leading up behind the clock.

Marsh gripped his radio again. ‘Okay, Crane, we’ve got all eyes on you. Just stay calm. We’ll count you down. Don’t get too close to her, if she approaches you earlier. You’re covered from all sides. She makes a move and we’re there in seconds.’

‘What time is it?’ asked Crane again, nervously.

‘He’s under the fucking clock,’ muttered Sparks.

‘Four thirty-three,’ said Marsh. ‘We’ll be in constant contact.’

78

Erika sat on the wall by the line of wheelie bins and lit up a cigarette. Keith had objected to her smoking inside and she’d said she wouldn’t leave him on his own, so as a compromise he’d come as far as the front door.

‘Would you like to just walk along the promenade – I mean go along? It’s nice and sunny,’ said Erika.

‘I don’t like it, leaving the flat,’ said Keith, craning his head suspiciously up to the clear blue sky.

Erika carried on smoking and stared out at the water, which was still and glittering in the sunshine. A group of kids were making sandcastles by the shore, watched over by their parents on deckchairs. A pink-and-white themed tourist train trundled past, a bell ringing tinnily by the miserable-looking driver’s head. Groups of kids eating ice-creams and candyfloss waved from behind the cloudy plastic windows in the carriages.

Keith waved back, which Erika found touching. She looked at her watch: it was coming up to 4.50 p.m. She checked her phone and saw that she had a strong signal and battery.

‘It’s like a watched pot,’ said Keith. ‘Never boils.’

Erika shook her head ruefully and lit another cigarette. She could have screamed with frustration at having to stay so far away from the action. She thought of DCI Sparks, who would be heading up the team, giving the orders and taking the glory.

As well as feeling frustrated, she felt robbed.

79

It was now 5.20 p.m. and no one had approached Crane, who was still stationed underneath the clock in Waterloo station.

Marsh and Sparks watched from the control room, as the crowds in the concourse swelled even more. It had become difficult to keep Crane in their sights on the close-up CCTV screen, so they were now using a long shot from across the concourse, which had been blown up to a huge size on the centre screen in the control room.

‘Crane, you okay? You need to stick to your spot. Dig your heels in,’ said Sparks into his radio. They could see from the long shot that the surging crowds were jostling him.