Hidden Killers Read online

  Also by Lynda La Plante

  Jane Tennison series

  Tennison

  Prime Suspect

  Prime Suspect 2: A Face in the Crowd

  Prime Suspect 3: Silent Victims

  Anna Travis series

  Above Suspicion

  The Red Dahlia

  Clean Cut

  Deadly Intent

  Silent Scream

  Blind Fury

  Blood Line

  Backlash

  Wrongful Death

  Lorraine Paige series

  Cold Shoulder

  Cold Blood

  Cold Heart

  Other titles

  The Legacy

  The Talisman

  Entwined

  Sleeping Cruelty

  Royal Flush

  Twisted

  Quick Reads

  The Little One

  The Escape

  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, 2016, 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.

  Cover design by Alex Allden

  Cover image © Dace Znotina / Alamy Stock Photo

  Typeset by Scribe Inc., Philadelphia, PA.

  Originally published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2016

  First published in the United States as an ebook by Zaffre Publishing, 2017

  This edition publishing by Zaffre Publishing, 2018

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

  80–81 Wimpole St, London W1G 9RE

  Digital edition ISBN: 978-1-4998-6141-9

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

  www.bonnierzaffre.com / www.bonnierpublishing.com

  To my many loyal readers. Your support through e-mail and social media has been a constant encouragement to me, and makes all the hard work worthwhile.

  Contents

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Good Friday

  Glossary

  A&E Accident and Emergency

  ABH Actual Bodily Harm

  CID Criminal Investigation Department

  CRO Criminal Record Office (number)

  DC Detective Constable

  DCI Detective Chief Inspector

  DCS Detective Chief Superintendent

  DI Detective Inspector

  DS Detective Sargent

  GBH Grievous Bodily Harm

  IRB Incident Report Book

  NSY New Scotland Yard

  Obo van Observation van

  Old Bailey Central Criminal Court of England and Wales

  Old Bill Slang for The Police

  PC Police Constable

  Plonk Slang for a female police constable

  QC Queen’s Counsel

  Section house Residential accommodation for unmarried police officers

  SOCO Scenes of crime officer

  The Met The Metropolitan Police

  VDU Visual Display Unit

  WDC Woman Detective Constable

  WPC Woman Police Constable

  Prologue

  For WPC Jane Tennison, the months following the bank explosion, which caused the tragic deaths of DCI Len Bradfield and WPC Kathleen Morgan, were a difficult and painfully sad time. The truth was the incident deeply affected everyone in the Met, but most notably at Hackney Police Station, where many officers found their colleagues’ deaths hard to deal with and all too raw to discuss. The imposing four-story redbrick-and-white-stone building had numerous stone-flagged corridors and winding staircases. The cells were located in the cold and dingy basement, and there were small cramped offices on the ground and first floors. The whole place needed redecorating and the station was long overdue for a refurbishment. But no changes had been made since the abortive bank raid involving the death of two loved and respected officers. It wasn’t as if it had never happened or would ever be forgotten; it was just rarely, if ever, spoken about. However, the likes of Sergeant Harris ensured the daily routine and hard work continued, and a new DCI gave the detectives a strength and determination to continue working at the station.

  DS Spencer Gibbs was placed on sick leave to recover from the burn injuries to his hands. Several detectives had tried to get in contact with him, even leaving messages at his home address, but to no avail. It seemed he didn’t want any visitors and it soon became common knowledge, through the new DCI, that DS Gibbs had asked for a transfer to another station. Sadly, the whole incident left the young DC Mike Hudson, who was also injured in the explosion, too traumatized to return to work, and after attending the funerals of his colleagues he handed in his warrant card and resigned from the Met.

  Despite her emotional and professional involvement in the devastating events, Jane was now even more determined to complete her probation and be confirmed as a fully-fledged police constable. As the weeks and months passed, she made admirable progress, not only in the classroom at her continuation training exams, but also on the streets where she made a number of good arrests. By anyone’s standards, it was an impressive array of both male and female suspects, for various offenses such as shoplifting, criminal damage, drunk and disorderly, and handling stolen goods. Most notably there were two occasions, after a call over the radio, when Jane was first on the scene and had caught the burglars red-handed.

  It was toward the end of her probation, in the last week of August 1974, when Jane spent a week on compulsory attachment with the Traffic Division. Although it was a great adrenalin rush racing around London at high speed with blue lights and sirens, to a variety of personal injury and vehicle accidents, being a Traffic officer was not a future she had any desire to pursue in the Met. She was crossing off the days in her pocket diary, longing for Monday, September 9th, which marked her final two weeks of probation and a plain-clothes attachment to Hackney CID.

  Jane had already contemplated directly approaching DCS Metcalf who, shortly after the bank explosion, had given her his word that if she continued performing well as a probationer he would give her a personal recommendation should she desire to become a detective. His promise had been made well over a year ago now, and although she had seen Metcalf numerous times at the station, he had never raised the subject. Jane decided that it would be best to show a keen interest during her CID attachment and perform well, then she would be in a better position to approach him.

  Chapter One

  On Wednesday, September 4th, Jane was on the 2 p.m.
late shift as Sergeant Harris inspected and posted the C Relief uniform officers to their beats and panda car duties for the shift. As Jane was about to be given her posting Detective Inspector Nicholas Moran entered the room and, as was the norm, everyone stood to attention for a senior officer. Harris had a look of disapproval on his face as he didn’t like his parades interrupted, least of all by the CID. Moran nodded his approval at the officers’ show of respect then gestured for everyone to sit down as he turned to Harris.

  “Please finish posting your officers to their duties, Sergeant Harris, then I’d like to address them regarding some indecent assaults that have occurred on the ground in the last few weeks.”

  “I’ve finished, so you can address them now. But if you could make it brief I’d be obliged as my officers need to get out on patrol,” Harris said, in a pompous manner.

  “Thank you,” Moran replied with a skewed smile that conveyed his displeasure at Harris’s attitude.

  DI Moran was an experienced and well-respected detective, having worked on the Vice Unit at Scotland Yard prior to his recent promotion and transfer to Hackney CID. He was in his mid-thirties, with blond hair that was neat, tidy and collar length. He wore a dark navy blue suit and white shirt with a button-down collar, blue tie and black ankle boots that made him look taller that his actual five feet ten inches. Jane had seen him on a few previous occasions but being a probationary WPC she had not come into direct contact with him; the word around the station was that he was on the fast track and going places.

  Moran told the officers that over the last few weeks a number of young women had been indecently assaulted after dark, in both the Victoria Park and London Fields park in Hackney, and he strongly suspected the same man was responsible for all the attacks. He explained that the majority of the assaulted women had been prostitutes, probably because they were easy targets who would be least likely to report an assault. However, the last two victims were not prostitutes and the fear was that the suspect was becoming less discriminating about whom he attacked. As Moran spoke, all the officers present, apart from Harris, wrote down the information in their force-issue note books.

  “The suspect is about five feet eight inches tall, with a deep-voiced London accent. He wore all-black clothing, which consisted of a waist length bomber-style jacket, black turtle neck jumper and trousers.” Moran paused to let the officers write down the details.

  “What about his color and facial description?” Harris asked, in a manner that implied Moran was lacking in his information on the suspect.

  “Don’t know, Sergeant Harris,” Moran said, and deliberately paused while Harris sat back with a smug grin. He then continued: “Sadly none of the victims would recognize the assailant again as he had his face covered during each attack.”

  Harris kept quiet as Moran went on to say that he and some of his detectives would be carrying out undercover surveillance, with a decoy, at London Fields for the next few nights. He wanted two officers patrolling Victoria Park just after dark and the station panda cars should, if possible, make a sweep round the park at least every half-hour. This, Moran informed them, was a deliberate ploy to entice the suspect over to London Fields where there would be no uniform presence. Harris made an entry in the parade book, which was on the desk in front of him, and informed PC Jackson and PC Oliver that they would now be patrolling Victoria Park for the shift.

  “However, should the officers patrolling Victoria Park see anyone acting suspiciously, or matching the partial description of the suspect, they have my permission to stop and question the person about their movements. If you’re not happy with any explanation or answers they give, arrest them and radio the CID office. One of my detectives will be manning a radio and they will be on a different frequency to you. Are there any questions?”

  Harris promptly closed the parade book and stood up. “Right, you all know your postings so book out your radios and vehicles, then get out on patrol . . . and no cups of tea beforehand.”

  Jane raised her hand, attracting Moran’s attention.

  “Yes, officer?”

  “Sorry, sir . . . it wasn’t about your case or the suspect. It’s just that Sergeant Harris hasn’t posted me to a beat yet. I could cover Victoria Park as well, Sergeant, or relieve the officers for their refreshments break?” Jane asked, hoping that she might get the chance to stop and arrest the suspect in Victoria Park.

  The frown on Harris’s face said it all. Jane was well accustomed to his condescending, chauvinistic attitude.

  “I’ve done the patrol postings . . . you’re in comms on the radio and VDU, Tennison.”

  DI Moran gestured to Jane. “Ah, yes, you’re Jane Tennison? I’d like to have a chat with you about bringing your CID attachment forward to—”

  Harris interrupted. “She needs to be on comms to relieve the early turn officer.”

  “And I need a female officer to act as a decoy tonight, Sergeant Harris . . . unless you fancy putting on a wig, skirt and high heels yourself,” Moran said, in a tone that sounded as if he was being serious.

  Harris ushered everyone out of the parade room, then slammed the door and turned to Moran.

  “May I have a word, sir?” Harris said, indignantly. He walked a few steps away from Jane, followed by Moran.

  Jane couldn’t believe that even now, with only a few days of her probation left to serve, Harris still acted like a petulant child when it came to female officers’ career opportunities. She also knew he was not a fan of the CID and often stated that young detectives didn’t have much brawn or brains and depended on experienced uniform men like himself to get them out of trouble. Although Harris pretended to whisper to Moran it was obvious he wanted her to hear every word.

  “You do realize that Tennison is still a probationer and inexperienced, and when it comes to the ways of the CID she may not be up to scratch, evidentially, if you make an arrest?”

  “If you are suggesting my detectives would encourage a uniform officer to fabricate evidence then I very much resent your remark, Harris. Rest assured, her well-being will be paramount throughout the surveillance operation.”

  Moran looked at his watch before continuing. “You’d better get a move on . . . the early turn duty sergeant will be waiting for you to relieve him.”

  Harris gritted his teeth as he left the parade room. Moran gestured for Jane to sit down. He pulled over a chair for himself, using the back of it as an arm rest and swinging his legs either side. Although she didn’t know Moran, judging by his cheeky smile and snazzy suit, Jane had formed an early impression that he reckoned himself as a bit of a charmer. Moran pulled a pack of Players from his pocket, took two cigarettes out, put the pack back in his pocket, and offered one to Jane, who declined. He tucked the spare cigarette behind his ear and lit the other with a Zippo lighter. For a fraction of a second Jane remembered DCI Bradfield using a similar lighter. But the moment passed as Moran flicked his Zippo closed, inhaled on the cigarette and blew out a ring of smoke.

  “You obviously heard what I said to Sergeant Harris?”

  Jane nodded. “Yes, sir, and I’d really like to work with you on your operation.”

  “A WDC from Dalston nick was going to act as the decoy tonight, but she went sick an hour ago and I need someone to replace her. A couple of the lads in the office recommended you as a bit of a looker, with a good arrest record,” he said, in a serious voice.

  “Thank you, sir,” she replied, slightly embarrassed.

  “There are obviously risks involved, but I can assure you that we will be watching you discreetly from an obo van. There will also be further backup nearby. But the choice is yours . . . if you don’t want to be a decoy, I totally understand and you’ll still be welcome on your two-week CID attachment.”

  “I’d be honored to be a decoy, and I know your detectives will watch my back.”

  Moran sat upright and slapped his hands on the back of the chair.

  “That’s great, darlin’ . . . and whether or not
we arrest the pervert you can add the next three weekdays with us as additional to your CID attachment.”

  “Thank you, sir, I won’t let you down.”

  “I’m sure you won’t, but first you’ll need to get the right outfit together.”

  “OK,” she said, wondering what he was going to say next.

  “You’ll need to tart yourself up a bit . . . You’ve got to look sexy . . . sort out your hair and makeup, maybe get a long wig or something and look like you’re up for a good time . . . You all right with that?”

  Jane nodded and Moran asked if she had any “scanty” clothing to wear for the job. When Jane replied that she didn’t Moran pulled out a leather wallet from his suit jacket and handed Jane two ten pound notes.

  “Here’s a score. Use it, but get receipts so I can claim the dosh back as expenses for the decoy operation.”

  Moran looked at his watch and stood up. “Right, it’ll be dark by 8 p.m. so you go get yourself sorted and be back here for a half-seven briefing in the CID office.”

  Jane nodded and Moran used his foot to shove the chair back against the wall before leaving the room. Jane sat for a few moments trying to think what clothes she had that might be suitable, but nothing came instantly to mind. This was a big opportunity and she didn’t want to blow it. Looking at the money Moran had given her Jane wondered if she’d find anything suitable at shops like Chelsea Girl or British Home Stores, but she doubted it. And Carnaby Street shops would be too expensive.

  She was relieved that she had nearly five hours to get ready. But first she had to inform the miserable Sergeant Harris that she was now officially on her CID attachment. She headed out of the briefing room and down the stone-flagged corridor with its peeling green paint and fading notices. Eventually she tracked him down in the snooker room and explained that DI Moran had said she needed to buy the appropriate clothes for her undercover assignment.

  “No doubt you’ll have the ‘appropriate’ clothing at the section house, Tennison, so I won’t be authorizing any cash for you to buy anything.”

  He wafted his cue for her to leave, then bent down over the snooker table to line up for a shot on the black ball. Jane walked to the door then smiled as she turned back to Harris, who was just about to take his shot.