Kiss of Death. Paul Finch

out a couple of sealed boxes of paperwork. The secretary set off back across the car park, carting one of these. But Gemma waited with her arms folded.

      Sighing, Heck climbed out.

      ‘And where’ve you been?’ she asked. ‘I’ve only been trying to contact you since lunchtime.’

      ‘Thought it might pay some dividends if I went to see a grass,’ he replied.

      ‘I gauged that from the scruffs.’

      Heck hadn’t yet had time to change out of the paint-stained jeans, sweatshirt and work boots that he’d worn for the meeting with Snake.

      ‘Unofficially?’ she asked. ‘As in … on your own?’

      He shrugged. ‘I was out and about, but I just had a thought to go and see him.’

      She considered this, before nodding at the box by her feet, turning and heading back towards the personnel door.

      Heck picked the box up and tagged along after her.

      ‘Who are we talking about?’ she said. ‘Wait, let me guess … Snake Fletcher?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘For crying out loud, Heck …’

      ‘Partly it was to reassure him. He was very happy that we’ve made his intel count.’

      ‘So would a lot of lowlifes be if all they had to do to get paid was drop dimes on their mates.’

      ‘Thing is …’ Heck knew he had to choose his next words carefully. ‘I don’t know … I thought it went too well, to be honest.’

      She glanced at him quizzically. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘The takedown at Little Milden,’ he said. ‘The Odinists turned up when Snake said they would. All five of them. We nabbed them. Each one banged to rights … we had enough evidence to charge them almost straight away. By the time we get to trial, we’ll have even more. They haven’t got a chance.’

      They reached the personnel door, and Gemma tapped the combination into the keypad. ‘Murder cases aren’t always complex, you know.’

      ‘I understand that. I just can’t help feeling that we might have missed something.’

      ‘Is this your natural pessimism talking?’ she asked, as they went inside and she summoned the lift. ‘Or did Snake say something?’

      ‘No, he thinks we’ve got everyone.’

      ‘So you have no actual grounds for this concern?’

      He shrugged.

      ‘I thought so.’ She folded her arms as they waited in the small lobby. ‘Heck, as always, your determination to bottom out every single job does you credit. But sometimes you make too much work for yourself. And for everyone else, including me. Which, as you can imagine, is not always appreciated. Now, it may be that something else comes up in due course regarding the Black Chapel, and if it does, we’ll follow it to the end of the line. But in the meantime, we’ve got another, equally big job on our desk. Heard about Operation Sledgehammer yet?’

      ‘Erm … Sledgehammer?’

      ‘I had a meeting at the Yard over the weekend, and another one this morning. We’re going to be doing some work with the Met’s Cold Case team.’

      ‘Oh …?’ Heck wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

      ‘Gwen Straker’s coming in on it.’

      ‘Oh … right.’ This was better news.

      In the late 1990s and early 2000s, when Heck and Gemma were at Bethnal Green, Straker was their DI, and an able and affable boss she’d been. He hadn’t seen much of her in recent years, but from gossip she was still one of the most popular supervisors in the Met. Heck was sure that the next question Gemma expected him to ask would be about this mysterious Operation Sledgehammer, but the good news about Gwen Straker notwithstanding, he wasn’t yet ready to dismiss the case they’d only recently closed.

      ‘I keep thinking about this black-metal band, Varulv,’ he said.

      She regarded him carefully. There were lots of things about Heck’s reckless style of policing that worried Gemma immensely, but she’d learned through hard experience that his instincts could often be trusted.

      ‘Former black-metal band,’ she said. ‘Aren’t they in retirement?’

      ‘Yeah. Apparently, they live as country gents in the Highlands of Scotland.’

      ‘You are aware they were fully investigated by Kripos?’ she said. ‘I mean for that church-burning incident in Norway and the murder of the caretaker?’

      ‘I understand they were interviewed,’ Heck replied. ‘Not necessarily investigated.’

      ‘Either way, they were cleared of suspicion.’

      ‘I agree that, as far as we know, they didn’t commit any crime,’ he said. ‘But have you seen some of their song titles … some of their lyrics? It wouldn’t take a religious zealot to consider them a fairly malign influence.’

      ‘Heck … you’re a malign influence. Young detectives see the corners you cut, and they think “wow, this job’s a doddle”. And then they pull the same stunts, and because they don’t enjoy the luck of the devil, like you do, they end up wearing tall hats again. But ultimately, you never get hauled over the coals for it. You know why? Because you never told them to behave that way. It’s one hundred per cent their own fault. And it’s exactly the same with devil-worshipping idiots like the Black Chapel. Now, the cult leaders have all been charged, and like I say, if something else comes up … if one of them wants to do a deal, drop a few more names our way, we’ll be all ears. Until then, we’ve got other business, OK?’

      ‘Yeah, but I’m just wondering if I should do some follow-up work on this one.’

      She regarded him blankly, unused to a lower rank – even Heck – completely ignoring her expressed viewpoint.

      ‘On the basis of what … a hunch, a wing and a prayer?’

      ‘Just let me run with it for a couple of weeks. See if I can dig anything up.’

      ‘Heck, you can’t touch Varulv anyway. They live in Scotland, they’re outside our jurisdiction.’

      ‘They may be outside our jurisdiction, but I can still touch them.’

      ‘No, no.’ She shook her head adamantly. ‘None of that. As it stands, the case against Lightfoot, Hapwood, Purdham, Renwick and Ulfskar is watertight. I’m not having you mucking things up by chucking your weight about in a foreign land.’

      ‘If nothing else, Varulv have encouraged all this. Ulfskar was one of their roadies. Should they just be allowed to go on as if …’

      ‘Heck, what don’t you understand about “no”? I need you here. In fact, I needed you here a couple of hours ago!’

      The lift doors slid open. They stepped inside, and Gemma hit the button for the third floor, where SCU’s command suite and her personal office were located.

      Heck stood alongside her and said nothing, but as they ascended, he pondered again the dark, black-metal entity that was Varulv. Powerful music could be a potent force, especially among the disenfranchised. But he’d never quite known anything like this, where a message of anger had been taken to such extremes. It was difficult to imagine its originators, who appeared to have spent their entire adult lives hatching this creed of hatred, simply sitting to one side while their minions were defeated, and taking no further action. After all, they’d first spread their deadly message in Norway, and having got away with it there, had moved to the UK, where the same thing had happened again, only worse.

      ‘You still with us?’ Gemma wondered.