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  Lynda La Plante was born in Liverpool. She trained for the stage at Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts and worked with the National Theatre and Radio Drama Company before becoming a television actress. She then turned to writing—and made her breakthrough with the phenomenally successful TV series Widows. Her novels have all been international bestsellers.

  Her original script for the much-acclaimed Prime Suspect won awards from BAFTA, Emmys, British Broadcasting and Royal Television Society as well as the 1993 Edgar Allan Poe Writer’s Award. Lynda has written and produced over 170 hours of international television. Tennison was adapted for TV and was broadcast on PBS in 2017.

  Lynda is one of only three screenwriters to have been made honorary fellow of the British Film Institute and was awarded the BAFTA Dennis Potter Writer’s Award in 2000. In 2008, she was awarded a CBE in the Queen’s Birthday Honours List for services to Literature, Drama and Charity.

  Please visit www.lyndalaplante.com for further information. You can also follow Lynda on Facebook and Twitter.

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © La Plante Global Limited, 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Typeset by Scribe Inc., Philadelphia, PA.

  Originally published in Great Britain by Zaffre Publishing in 2017

  First published in the United States by Zaffre Publishing, 2018

  Zaffre Publishing, an imprint of Bonnier Zaffre Ltd, a Bonnier Publishing company.

  80–81 Wimpole St, London W1G 9RE

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-4998-6145-7

  Also available as a trade paperback.

  For information, contact 251 Park Avenue South, Floor 12, New York, New York 10010

  www.bonnierzaffre.com / www.bonnierpublishing.com

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Glossary

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Excerpt from Murder Mile

  A Message from Lynda La Plante . . .

  Author’s Note

  During 1974 and 1975, London was subjected to a terrifying bombing campaign carried out by Active Service Units (ASU) of the Irish Republican Army (IRA). Over 40 bombs exploded, 35 people were killed and many were seriously injured. In one day alone the IRA planted seven bombs at locations across central London. Some were defused, some were not.

  On December 6, 1975, four armed members of the ASU took two elderly Balcombe Street residents hostage after a botched machine-gun attack on a Mayfair restaurant. A tense stand-off with the Metropolitan Police Bomb Squad ensued, but after six days the siege ended when the IRA men surrendered and released the hostages.

  After several days of intense interrogation, the “Balcombe Street Gang” were charged and remanded in custody to stand trial for multiple bombings and murders. The press portrayed the arrests as a major victory for the Met’s Bomb Squad.

  It was the lull before the storm. The bomb squad received information that another ASU had come to London. Both police and public lived in fear: where and when would the IRA strike, and could they be stopped in time?

  Glossary

  CID Criminal Investigation Department

  DC Detective Constable

  DCI Detective Chief Inspector

  DI Detective Inspector

  DS Detective Sargent

  FB Fingerprint Bureau

  Flying Squad Division of the Met that investigates robberies and any crime involving a gun.

  Greiss test Widely used for the detection of trace explosives containing nitro groups.

  MOD Ministry of Defense

  NSY New Scotland Yard

  Obo van Observation van

  Old Bill Slang for “the police”

  PC Police Constable

  Plonk Derogatory slang for a female police constable

  Section house Residential accommodation for unmarried police officers

  SOCO Scenes of crime officer

  SPG Special Patrol Group

  The Met The Metropolitan Police

  To be nicked Slang for “to be arrested”

  To nic Slang for “to steal”

  UVF Ulster Volunteer Force

  WDC Woman Detective Constable

  WPC Woman Police Constable

  Prologue

  In March 1976, Jane Tennison successfully completed her 10-week CID course at Hendon and returned to Bow Street, while awaiting a transfer to another station as a fully-fledged detective constable. She was still under the strict watchful eye of DCI Shepherd, nicknamed “Timex” due to his almost obsessive time-keeping. DI Gibbs had frequently not seen eye-to-eye with DCI Shepherd, and he had been posted away from Bow Street. Jane hadn’t heard from him, and wasn’t sure whether he had managed to curtail his excessive drinking.

  It wasn’t long before Jane’s posting as a DC came through and to her dismay she was offered a place at Hackney. She requested a private discussion with Shepherd to ask if she could remain at Bow Street. Although she knew that he could be tricky and controlling she never the less admired his tenacity.

  Shepherd knew, intuitively, the reason behind Jane’s appeal. Several officers who had been stationed at Hackney at the time of the abortive bank raid, which had tragically killed DCI Leonard Bradfield and WPC Kath Morgan, had been transferred. Jane gave no reason for her request, but encouraged by her previous performance at Bow Street DCI Shepherd agreed that she could return there.

  Jane was in a catch-22 situation. Although Shepherd had agreed for her to remain with the CID at Bow Street, he gave her very little opportunity to prove herself and she was becoming increasingly frustrated. She was due to attend a court appearance for a drunk driver. Usually this kind of case would have been handled by a uniformed officer, but Jane had been driving an unmarked CID car when the drunk driver had driven straight into the back of it. He had been belligerent and quite abusive.

  On arriving at the court she was annoyed to find that there was a backlog of cases being heard, so she went to get herself a coffee. As she headed back to the police officer’s waiting room she was almost sent flying by a DC bounding through the door.

  “God, I’m sorry,” said DC Brian Edwards, then, recognizing her, gave a wide smile.

  “Jane! It’s good to see you!”

  “Hello Brian. You got a case here this morning as well?”

  “Yeah, Flying Squad job. Committal hearing on a three-man armed robbery.”

  “You’re on the Flying Squad?” Jane tried to hide her surprise. Edwards was young, and almost as inexperienced as she was.

  “Yeah, it’s completely changed my life. The blokes on the squad are a great bunch of guys. We work all over London investigating armed robberies. The adrenalin buzz when you nick an armed robber on the pavement is incredible
.”

  “Congratulations! I must say, you look good.”

  Edwards had always been rather untidy and scruffy looking, with his thick curly hair worn long, and his shirt always hanging out of his trousers. Now he was wearing a trendy leather jacket, a white t-shirt, and dark trousers with side zipper boots.

  “Are there any women on the Flying Squad?” Jane asked.

  “No way. I doubt they’d ever bring in a woman. It’s tough work, Jane, and we get results.” Before she could respond to his arrogance and chauvinism, Edwards glanced at his watch, “So, what’re you here for?”

  “Just a traffic offense. A drunk bloke rammed into me while I was driving the CID car.”

  Edwards laughed. He turned to look over at two men dressed in similar clothing to him, as one gestured for him to join them.

  “See y’around,” Edwards said, as he sauntered over to them.

  By the time Jane got to the CID office three hours later, she was in a foul mood. Edith, the CID’s clerical officer, who had worked alongside Jane since she started at Bow Street, smiled warmly when she saw her.

  “Everything go all right in court?”

  “Yes. Guilty, banned for two years and a hefty fine. When you think how much paperwork I had to do to get him into court . . . He wore a smart suit and tie and said it was out of character, blah, blah . . . Considering the lip he gave me, he got off lightly.”

  “Well, you’ve got a load of shoplifting crime sheets on your desk from DCI Shepherd. There’s been a slew of clothes nicked from Oxford Street stores today.”

  “Shoplifters? That’s a uniform crime investigation, not CID!”

  “Not when they all happened within an hour of each other. Shepherd reckons it’s an organized gang who sell the stolen goods on market stalls.”

  “Well that sounds a lot more interesting than the stuff I usually investigate.”

  Edith sipped her tea. “He wants you to get statements from all the shops, and an inventory of exactly what was stolen, along with the value.”

  “Oh my God,” Jane muttered.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger,” Edith retorted, resuming her typing.

  Jane began to sift through the crime sheets and statements on her desk. “I met DC Brian Edwards at court. Remember him from the Susie Luna murder?” Edith looked blank. “The rapist, Peter Allard? He got a life sentence, and—”

  “Oh yes, I remember. Long time ago, now . . . Over a year . . .”

  “Edwards is on the Flying Squad now.”

  “Really?”

  “He said they never take women on the Squad.”

  “Well, I doubt any decent woman would want to be on it.” Edith’s tone sharpened. “They’re a bunch of chauvinistic bastards! Ever since that TV series The Professionals came out, they act like they’re film stars, the lot of them, think they’re God’s gift . . . There’ve been a lot of unpleasant rumors about corruption, too, but far be it from me to name names . . .”

  Jane processed the Oxford Street reports for the rest of the day, drawing up charts of the shops, times of the thefts and a description of the suspects. She then filed everything methodically, just as DCI Shepherd liked, but she was finished by three thirty. She sat drumming her fingers on her empty desk and at four o’clock decided she would approach DCI Shepherd. It was ridiculous that she was sitting around when she was now qualified to investigate more serious cases.

  She knocked on his office door and waited.

  “Come in.”

  Jane walked in and stood by his desk. Shepherd gave her a cursory glance.

  “What is it, Tennison?” Shepherd’s pale blue eyes and boyish looks belied not only his age but also his professionalism.

  “May I speak freely, sir?”

  “Yes, of course. Sit down.”

  She drew a chair up in front of his desk.

  “I don’t feel that my time here is being utilized properly. I’ve gained a lot of experience since I’ve been here, and I know that you are aware of my participation in previous cases—like the apparently non-suspicious death that resulted in two murder convictions.”

  Shepherd didn’t answer right away. He paused for a moment, then picked up his fountain pen, unscrewed the top, examined the nib, then slowly screwed it back together. “Yes, of course, I am aware of the case you are referring to . . . Katrina Harcourt and . . . er, Barry Dawson . . . correct?”

  “Yes, sir. I was also part of the investigation of the rapist Peter Allard when the body of Susie Luna was discovered, and—”

  “Yes, Tennison, I’m more than aware of those investigations, and the part you played in them. But I don’t see why you’re bringing them up now, all these months later?”

  “Sir, I’m grateful that you agreed for me to return to Bow Street but now that I’ve passed my CID course and been made detective I’m concerned that my training is not being used to its full potential.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, sir. I was wondering if there was any possibility that I could apply for a transfer to the Flying Squad?”

  Shepherd laughed. “Tennison, with your length of service and experience there is absolutely no possibility of your being transferred to the Flying Squad. You are welcome to apply but I doubt the application would be taken seriously. But let me think about what you’ve said and we can talk in due course about some possible alternatives.”

  Edith was getting ready to leave when Jane walked in to the CID office and sat down at her desk, in a glum mood.

  “I’m off home now,” Edith said.

  “Edith, do you think DCI Shepherd’s got it in for me? He keeps his distance from me, and I get all the garbage. I’m investigating dead-end crimes that none of the other detectives are allocated. I know that he was very complimentary to me, and agreed for me to return to Bow Street . . .”

  “As I keep on telling you Jane, the Met really don’t like giving women the kudos they deserve. They’re old-school, and Shepherd is as well . . . although he maintains that he’s a forward thinker, in my opinion he plays by the rules—and those rules don’t include female detectives.”

  On returning to the section house Jane sat on her bed, feeling thoroughly depressed. She had been thinking of moving out and renting a flat of her own now she was earning a sufficient salary. She had saved a considerable amount living at the section house. The time was right for her to be independent.

  Later that evening she called her parents and told her father that she was contemplating moving. Mr. Tennison encouraged her to think about buying rather than renting. He even offered to help by paying the deposit, saying that in the long run it would be much better for her to own a flat and pay a mortgage, as it would be an investment.

  Jane’s morale was boosted. If she couldn’t improve her working life at Bow Street she could at least change her lifestyle, and be more independent.

  DCI Shepherd didn’t approach Jane after their meeting, so she carried on working on the low-level investigations she had been assigned to. She was disappointed, but at least she now had another focus, spending her days off looking at possible flats. She was unsure how she was going to manage financially, as she had only just bought a second-hand VW Golf. However, Jane’s father actively encouraged her and produced a list of areas that he felt would be suitable.

  “I don’t want to jump the gun, Daddy. This is really going to stretch my wages . . . so far I haven’t seen anywhere suitable.”

  “It takes time dear, and you won’t be jumping the gun. I’ll look into everything with you. If we find a place that needs fixing up you can call on your brother in law, Tony, to help with the carpentry, and I can do the decorating.”

  Mrs. Tennison was not quite as enthusiastic and was anxious about Jane moving into a flat on her own and taking on such responsibility. She had even suggested that Jane might want to go back and live at home with them again. She constantly worried about Jane and felt that, if she wasn’t living at home, it was safer for her to be in secure accommodation
like the section house, along with other police officers.

  “It sometimes feels like I imagine a school dormitory, would be, Mum, with no privacy . . . and I hate the communal bathrooms. I really want to find my own place.”

  “Well, in my opinion if you get your own place there’ll be no incentive for you to meet someone, get married and set up a home together. Just like Pam and Tony did.”

  After years of being compared to her sister, Jane had learned not to argue with her mother, or to listen to her opinions. Mrs. Tennison was still unable to cope with Jane’s career choice, and would far rather that she had been more like Pam and had chosen a safe “homely” job. She had always been prone to anxiety, and if she had known of the horrors that Jane had been subjected to during her training and at her various attachments since then, she would be even more neurotic.

  On her days off Jane and her father scoured the estate agents’ windows, viewed endless properties and made arrangements for a mortgage. She had a file of estate agents’ particulars and spent her breaks in the canteen having coffee and sifting through them all. Edith was very supportive of Jane buying her own flat, although she was quick to dismiss one property after another as being too far out of the West End, or in an unsatisfactory area. Edith owned a small terraced house in Hackney but constantly complained that the neighborhood was going downhill and that it was not a good investment for her future. Her elderly mother suffered from dementia and she was dependent on social welfare carers to be able to look after her. Jane had once asked Edith if she had considered placing her mother into a care home.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it! She might be the bane of my life but she’s my mother . . . even though she often doesn’t know who I am, and she’s a constant worry, but when she is lucid it makes it worthwhile. I’m sure if you were ever in the same situation, Jane, you would do the same.”

  Jane nodded in agreement, although the thought of losing one or other of her parents and having to care for them by herself was too much to even contemplate.

  As she was pondering, DCI Shepherd summoned her into his office.