Carter reached into his briefcase and pulled out some sheaves of paper. ‘I have here copies of transcripts of all the conversations that we’ve been able to retrieve between Bevan and shygirl351. I’ll be passing them on to your profiler with a view to getting some more insights into our man’s mindset.
‘In the meantime I can tell you what I have learned – this person is extremely accomplished at what they are doing. During the time they were online with Bevan they were totally convincing, able to use slang and teenage language with ease. They also seem very comfortable with assuming the role of a female.
‘This person has an extremely advanced level of knowledge when it comes to computing. Our attempts to track down the computer shygirl351 has been using have got us nowhere. The results say the computer is based somewhere in Kazakhstan. We know from the conversations and the arrangements to meet that they are based in London, but the signals we receive are being bounced around and diverted. I have spoken to our computer experts and this is extremely difficult to do.’
The volume of the chatter intensified. Carter looked across at Anderson, who silenced the room with a wave of his hand and stepped forward.
‘Now I can see that some of you are a little sceptical,’ said Anderson. ‘An hour ago I was too, but DI Carter and I have spent the morning comparing notes and I’m afraid to say that the more we look into this, the stronger the links seem to get. What really sold it for me is that, if you take away the fact that Bevan has a couple of kids, his profile is almost identical to Miller’s.
‘Although we have yet to find the link in the case of Chadwick, it seems pretty certain that our killer has been actively targeting paedophiles. At the time someone like Miller was killed, the internet was still in a relative state of infancy and people with those kinds of interests had a limited number of ways to meet up and swap information. We know that Miller made use of contact magazines and lonely hearts, which were a precursor to the modern-day chatroom. It makes perfect sense that if someone was targeting paedophiles today, they would do it online.
‘There is, of course, a whole separate team looking into O’Neill’s disappearance and trying to track him down. It’s a multi-level operation, attacking from all sides, and we are now a key part of it. What we plan to do, along with DI Carter’s help, is see if we can set up some kind of a sting operation, draw shygirl351 out into the open. In order to do this, instead of posing as a vulnerable young girl, we are going to pose as an online predator.’
Collins shook her head. ‘There is another possibility with all this, isn’t there?’
All eyes turned to Collins and she half shrugged her shoulders before continuing. ‘Sorry if I’m speaking out of turn, I don’t believe in holding back.’
‘No. I appreciate you speaking your mind, Collins. It’s always good to get another perspective on a case. What have you got?’
‘Well, I don’t know O’Neill at all, but we have to accept the possibility that the reason he may have been targeted is that he too is an unconvicted paedophile. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time an officer with those duties was found to have that kind of weakness.’
Around the room all the officers nodded gently to themselves. It was an uncomfortable truth that, in more cases than any of them cared to recall, officers with paedophile tendencies had worked their way into child pornography units. That way they could spend their days viewing thousands of images without fear of prosecution. Psychological screening was supposed to weed out the worst cases – the same way it was supposed to weed out gun fanatics from the armed response teams – but a few always managed to slip through.
Carter and Anderson looked at one another before Carter spoke. ‘That is something I’ve considered but I believe the chances of that being the case are pretty negligible. O’Neill was one of four DCs on the job that day. I picked him at random to go and meet this contact. The chances of him turning out to be a paedophile and our killer knowing about it are just too high to be taken wholly seriously. I know Patrick. I’ve known him for a while. You can never say never, but I’m sure he’s clean.’
Collins nodded in agreement but after only a few seconds began shaking her head again. ‘Then what are we wasting time for? It’s going to take days, maybe even weeks to build up a relationship with shygirl351. There’s no way this guy doesn’t know that O’Neill is a copper. Either O’Neill would have told him or the killer would have found his warrant card or something. The idea that he’s going to be up for an online conversation is just ludicrous. He’ll be on his guard. Dr Bernard talked about the fact that these people often have an intimate knowledge of police procedure. You said he’s already displayed knowledge of the techniques used by undercover officers working online. Surely he’ll be expecting something like this.’ She looked across at Woods and her fellow officers for moral support.
‘That’s a chance we have to take,’ said Anderson. ‘It could go either way. Now that a policeman has become directly involved it could send him underground but he may also be thinking that he has nothing to lose. Dr Bernard also talked about some of these people being on some kind of mission. Our man may now think he’s running out of time. Or he may be planning to use O’Neill as some kind of bargaining chip, but wondering how to get in touch with us. The only way to find out is go online. That’s our best hope of tracking this person down.’
16
The heavy-set man in a bomber jacket, blue jeans and army boots leaned casually against the fence post smoking a cigarette. He stepped into the middle of the dirt track as the car carrying Jack Stanley and Danny Thompson rounded the corner and began heading towards him.
Stanley stopped a few yards short of the gateway and rolled down his window. ‘We’re here for the party,’ he said.
The man stared hard at Stanley, then shifted his gaze to do the same to Thompson. Finally he cupped one hand against the rear window and peered into the back of the vehicle.
‘No cameras allowed,’ he said at last. His Northern Irish accent was as thick as treacle. ‘And that includes camera phones. Anything like that will have to stay in the car. We’ll be checking. Follow the path round to the right until you can’t go any further. Park up next to the stables. The party’s in the building opposite.’
The man returned to the fence post as Stanley rolled up the window, shifted the car into gear and drove on.
‘So that’s one of them, eh?’
‘Has to be,’ said Stanley. ‘The accent’s a dead giveaway.’
‘He doesn’t seem so tough.’
Stanley turned to his friend. ‘He doesn’t have to be, does he? I hear they’ve even got a bird on their team.’
‘Fucking hell! She’ll probably end up in tears before the end of the night.’
They wove their way through the farm complex until they found the stables. Dozens of other cars had got there before them and seemingly taken up every inch of available space. Stanley managed to squeeze his car in at an awkward angle at the far end, dangerously close to what appeared to be a huge pile of manure. He and Thompson clambered out, noses held against the stench, and started to make their way over to a dilapidated out-building with a rusty, corrugated-tin roof.
It was nearly nine and the sun had almost completely vanished below the horizon. The door to the out-building was slightly ajar, revealing a strip of bright light; the sounds of chatter came from within.
It had been more than three months since Stanley had last visited the barn, back when he was searching for a venue for tonight’s event. On that occasion it had been filled with old farm equipment and had no artificial lighting, but the owners assured him they would be able to transform it. As he and Thompson stepped inside, he could see immediately that they had kept their word.