The Jackdaw. Luke Delaney

as I can.’

      The man took a deep breath, the voice distorter making it sound like a rush of wind.

       ‘Have you received any bonuses since the banking crisis? A simple question.’

       ‘OK – yes, yes I have, but it’s not what you think.’

      The man straightened and took another deep breath, as if he’d unearthed a great truth.

       ‘How much? How much each year?’

       ‘I can’t remember, exactly.’

       ‘Try. How much?’

      ‘About . . . about forty thousand pounds.’

       ‘Forty thousand pounds.’

      ‘But it was in shares. I couldn’t even spend them. They were just . . . just paper.’

       ‘And your salary, how much do you get paid each year?’

       ‘I told you – I’m not rich. I’m just a project manager.’

       ‘How much and don’t lie to me.’

      She slumped in the chair.

       ‘About ninety thousand pounds.’

       ‘Ninety thousand pounds and forty thousand bonus, while others can barely feed their families. Shame on you. Shame on you.’

      ‘D’you hear that?’ Taylor called out. ‘Hundred and thirty grand a year for being a bloody project manager.’ His wife didn’t answer. ‘Greedy bitch,’ he whispered. ‘Bet you weren’t thinking about people like me when you were celebrating your fat City bonus. No – of course you weren’t. None of you were.’

      Father Alex Jones had received the text message he’d been dreading informing him that the Your View Killer was back live on the Internet. He sat at the altar of his empty church in Dulwich and logged onto Your View on his old iPad and soon found the images he feared, but looked for anyway – the hooded man with the deeply unsettling distorted voice standing next to a terrified-looking young woman. He’d prayed as the man had preached, pleading with God to touch the man’s heart with mercy while begging for the woman’s safety, but so far neither prayer seemed to have been answered.

      ‘The people have heard enough. It’s time for them to judge. Time for them to decide whether they find you guilty or not guilty.’ The man’s face grew larger on the screen. ‘I know what they’re thinking – that they can stop me talking to the people. Think they can stop the people having their justice by shutting down this website. But if they do her fate will be more terrible than they can possibly imagine. The people will not be silenced. I will not be silenced.’

      Father Jones dropped to his knees in front of the altar, pressed his hands together, closed his eyes and began to pray. ‘Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come …’

      ‘Get me someone from Your View on the line,’ Sean told anyone who was listening. ‘The more senior the better.’

      ‘D’you think they might be trying to pull the plug?’ Donnelly asked.

      ‘We can’t take the chance they are,’ Sean warned him.

      ‘I’m on it,’ Donnelly told him and grabbed the nearest phone as the others continued to watch the pictures coming from the small screen.

       ‘The people are beginning to vote. Soon we’ll know if this whore of wealth has been found guilty by you, the people. I have nothing else to say while we wait for the judgement.’

      ‘Jesus Christ,’ Sally exclaimed. ‘What must she be thinking – tied to that chair by this psychopath, waiting for a bunch of voyeurs to pass judgement?’

      ‘She’ll be thinking a lot of things,’ Sean told her. ‘None of them good. But wasting time worrying about that’s not going to bring us any closer to finding him, and stopping him. How you doing, Bob?’

      ‘Getting closer and closer. The longer he stays online the closer I’ll get.’

      ‘How close are you now?’ Sean asked impatiently.

      ‘He’s definitely transmitting from the southeast,’ Bishop told him. ‘If he keeps this up it’s only a matter of time before we have him.’

      ‘The southeast?’ Sean didn’t hide his disappointment. ‘Can’t you do better than that?’

      ‘Yes, but it’ll take time,’ Bishop explained. ‘We’re not just trying to track a mobile phone signal. This is far more complicated. But we’re linked into the Internet Crime Unit’s tracking software. We’ll get him soon enough.’

      ‘So long as he doesn’t ditch the computer he’s using, or move to another location,’ Sean reminded him. Bishop just shrugged, concentrating on the computer in front of him. Donnelly grabbed Sean’s attention, holding the corded phone out as far as he could for Sean to take.

      ‘Nick Poole on the phone, boss. CEO of Your View.’

      Sean stepped towards him and took the phone. ‘DI Corrigan speaking. I assume you’re watching this.’

      ‘I am,’ Poole answered.

      ‘I’m just calling to make sure you have no intention of pulling the plug.’

      ‘Listen,’ Poole told him nervously, ‘I know I gave Assistant Commissioner Addis assurances that we wouldn’t take this whole terrible business offline, but this is getting too much. We can’t be dictated to by this lunatic. I don’t want to be a part of this any more.’

      ‘You heard what he said,’ Sean snapped down the phone. ‘You pull the plug – you seal her fate. Let it play out.’

      ‘And I can tell people you made us keep the site live?’ Poole asked. ‘We can tell the media it was the police’s idea?’

      ‘If you want to use my name to cover your arse then use it. Just don’t shut this down.’

      There was a slight pause before Poole spoke again. ‘OK, but it’s your call. Your responsibility,’ Poole insisted.

      ‘Fine,’ Sean told him with barely disguised contempt and hung up.

      ‘Problem?’ Donnelly asked.

      ‘Not now,’ Sean answered and moved to better see the screen, the hooded man still standing silently next to his victim. ‘You any closer?’ he asked Bishop.

      ‘A little, but not much,’ he answered.

      ‘Quiet a second,’ Sally interrupted. ‘I think he’s about to say something.’ The group watched as the man moved out of camera shot.

      ‘Look at the voting count,’ Sally told them. ‘People are voting not guilty.’

      ‘Looks fifty–fifty to me,’ Donnelly disagreed.

      ‘Yeah, but with the first victim it was an overwhelming majority finding him guilty,’ Sally explained. ‘This is a split jury – so what does he do now?’

      ‘I think we’re about to find out,’ Sean silenced them as the hooded man came back into view.

       ‘The people have voted. It appears you cannot decide whether her guilt is clear. I am disappointed. Too many of you have allowed yourselves to be seduced by her femininity and false tears. But it’s not your fault. The rich and powerful have used their media empires and influence to brainwash many of you over decades and decades – pumping you full of the news they want you to hear as well as mind-destroying soap operas and reality shows to ensure your misplaced sentimentality.

       ‘However,