The Jackdaw. Luke Delaney

his nose, receding blond hair uncombed and unstyled.

      ‘Who the hell is this?’ he asked Donnelly, never looking away from the man who was now flushed red.

      ‘This,’ Donnelly explained, ‘is Detective Constable Bob Bishop.’

      ‘Where the hell did you find him? And more to the point, what are you doing with him?’ Bishop looked from Donnelly to Sean and back again, following the conversation anxiously.

      ‘I abducted him from the Cyber Crime Unit,’ Donnelly continued. ‘The DI there’s an old friend of mine. He said we could have him.’ Still neither of them bothered to address Bishop. Sean shook his head in mock disbelief. ‘What?’ Donnelly played along. ‘You said get an Internet expert.’

      ‘Is that what he is?’ Sean continued to stare at the very uncomfortable-looking Bishop. ‘Is that what you are – an Internet expert?’

      ‘I know my way around the Web as well as anyone from the Cyber Unit,’ Bishop stuttered in his Birmingham accent.

      ‘See,’ Donnelly jumped in. ‘Like I said – an expert.’

      ‘You know why you’re here?’ Sean asked.

      ‘Something about the Your View Killer. DS Donnelly told me.’

      ‘It’s all about the Your View Killer,’ Sean told him. Bishop visibly swallowed hard. ‘Can he be traced? Can we trace him to wherever he’s broadcasting from?’

      ‘Yes,’ Bishop answered, ‘but it’s not like on the telly – it can take a while. But why d’you need me? Can’t you use one of your own team?’

      ‘Sure,’ Sean teased him, ‘because my team’s full of Internet and computer experts. The Commissioner lets me keep them locked in a room for whenever I might need them – along with thousands of pounds’ worth of tracking equipment for the once in a blue moon when I might need that too. Bishop, this is the Metropolitan Police: you don’t get given anything until you absolutely need it and then you beg, steal and borrow it before handing it back to wherever it is you got it from. And right now I need you.’

      ‘Well then, I guess I’m all yours,’ Bishop gave in.

      ‘Good. Can we trace it even when it’s not on?’ Sean pressed ahead with his queries.

      ‘No,’ Bishop told him. ‘We can only trace him when he’s connected to the Internet. Every time he’s connected we inch a little closer to his location, but he has to be connected.’

      ‘What if he changes computers or changes the location of his broadcasts? Donnelly asked.

      ‘If we’ve already got a hook into his computer we can trace him even if he changes location – although we’d have to go back a few steps, which would slow us down. But even without a hard modem we can trace his wireless fingerprint via the—’

      ‘Stop. Stop,’ Sean interrupted. ‘Save the technical jargon for someone who gives a shit. Now try that again in English.’

      ‘Well, like I said, once we’re into his er … computer, we’ve pretty much got him, but it’ll take time, depending on how long he stays online each time. If he ditches the computer we’re buggered, unless he’s using er … something that sends the signal on that he also used with the original computer.’ Sean and Donnelly looked at each other. ‘It’s like at home, right,’ Bishop explained. ‘Most people have more than one device that can access the Internet, but they’re all getting that access through one modem, right, so even if they ditch the device, we’re still into the source. Get it?’

      ‘I get it enough,’ Sean told him. ‘Dave, get him a desk in the main office and put him to work.’

      ‘He can share with me and Sally. There’s enough room. He wouldn’t survive in that shark pool.’

      ‘Fine,’ Sean agreed.

      Bishop’s eyes darted around nervously. ‘Excuse me,’ he began. ‘I know my way around computers and stuff, but I’m not qualified to call myself an expert and you sound like you need an expert.’

      Sean looked him in the eyes. ‘Do you know anyone better than you who also happens to be employed by the Metropolitan Police?’

      ‘Er … well no, but—’

      ‘I didn’t think so,’ Sean cut him off again. ‘Listen, you can speak to whoever you need to speak to for technical advice, go and see whoever you want to see, spend whatever you have to spend – but I need you to trace the location of where this madman’s broadcasting from. Do you understand?’

      ‘Yes, but it’s just that I was right in the middle—’

      ‘You may be our best chance to catch a killer, and if you do, it won’t be forgotten,’ Sean encouraged him. ‘Are you my man?’

      Bishop finally straightened as a sparkle came to his eyes. ‘Yeah,’ he answered. ‘Yeah. I’m your man.’

      ‘Good,’ Sean told him as Donnelly led him away to the next-door office. Sean hadn’t finished shaking his head when he saw Anna enter the main office and start to approach him. He felt a pleasant vibration in his chest and his head became a little light. He pushed the feelings aside and quickly stood, pulling on his coat and gathering his belongings, stuffing them carelessly into his pockets.

      Anna entered without knocking. ‘Going somewhere?’

      ‘Yes,’ was all he said, aiming for the door where he’d have to pass close to her.

      ‘Mind if I ask where?’

      He sighed before answering. ‘If you must know, I’m meeting Dr Canning for the post-mortem.’

      ‘Can I tag along?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Oh.’

      Sean realized he was being unnecessarily blunt and reminded himself it wasn’t her fault he felt the way he did about her. Being close to her made him feel uncomfortable, vulnerable; but he didn’t want to hurt her either.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ he explained. ‘It’s just Dr Canning doesn’t like additional people coming to his post-mortems. He likes it to be just him and me. Post-mortem’s his call. He’s the pathologist.’

      ‘That’s OK,’ she told him. ‘I understand. I’d probably be the same.’

      ‘Look,’ Sean continued. ‘I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. I’d be interested in your opinion.’

      ‘I’d appreciate that,’ she told him as he slid past. ‘I’ll see you later then.’

      He walked quickly through the main office without looking back and was gone.

      Georgina Vaughan sat on the corner of her desk on the seventh floor of Glenhope Investments in the City of London. She kept a sharp eye out for her boss who often stalked the floor looking for employees who were engaging in social discourse rather than working. She shared her limited working space with two colleagues, Nick and Oscar, and when they weren’t being spied on there had only been one topic of conversation that morning – the Your View Killer.

      She peeked over the top of Nick’s screen. ‘So who do you think he’s going to do next?’ she asked in little more than a whisper.

      He checked they weren’t being watched before answering. ‘I don’t know. Could be anyone. Could be you.’

      She gave a short laugh. ‘Me? I don’t think so. You heard what he said – he’s only after the big fish.’

      ‘You’re a senior project manager and a rising star,’ Oscar joined in. ‘Maybe he’ll consider you to be a big fish?’

      Again she laughed. ‘I doubt it. Not yet anyway. I reckon he’ll only go for CEOs. Probably doesn’t even know what a project manager is. By the time I’m a