‘Daniel, thanks for getting here in time for the briefing,’ said Kay, following Laura and the firearms enquiry officer into the conference room. ‘We’re going to need all the help we can get with this one.’
‘No problem. I’m waiting to hear from two of my team to see if we can bolster the numbers you’ve got here,’ he said, untangling cables that dangled over the back of a worn laminated desk near the far end of the room and plugging in his laptop. ‘I don’t doubt the capabilities your officers have, but mine are more familiar with the firearms licensing database. In the circumstances, we need to move as fast as possible on this.’
Laura hauled an overhead projector from an oak-effect cupboard under a window, placed it on the table beside Daniel and then aimed a remote control at a screen that emerged from its housing among the ceiling tiles.
‘I suggest we split our team into two,’ he continued. ‘Then Laura can pass on any solid leads through to you as we go.’
‘That sounds like a good plan.’ Kay crossed to the door as the assigned personnel began to appear, and directed them towards the screen.
Moments later, a semi-circle of twelve officers were staring at the projected images, faces grim while they listened to the firearms officer.
‘The National Firearms Licensing Management System is what we use every time we receive an enquiry from someone wishing to apply for a shotgun or firearms certificate,’ Daniel began. ‘In theory, no one should be in possession of a shotgun, firearm or ammunition without a valid certificate. And before you ask, 3D printed guns also fall under the legislation.’
As he spoke, he flicked through the database’s different sections. ‘Most of the information you’re going to need for this initial review process can be found here. Every person who applies must be able to present a good reason to need a firearm or shotgun. That means a legitimate reason for work, such as being a gamekeeper or Forestry Commission worker, sport or something like museum collections. Good reason might also include historical re-enactment, antiques collectors or target shooting clubs.’
Kay leaned against a spare desk as she listened, as rapt as her colleagues.
‘The system also captures the names of people whose certificates have been revoked, as well as refused applications – so those are elements you’ll be looking at alongside legitimate owners,’ said Daniel.
‘What sort of reasons would cause a certificate to be revoked?’
Kay turned to see Phillip Parker frowning, pen poised above his notebook, and gave a slight nod.
It was a good question.
‘Any claim involving domestic abuse, a drink driving charge, medical issues, reports of a certificate holder losing their temper – basically anything that gives us cause for concern and gives us a fair reason to suspect that person shouldn’t be in charge of a firearm of any sort,’ said Daniel. He jabbed his finger to the laptop keyboard and the image changed. ‘You’ll all be given temporary access to the database and when you get to your desks, IT should’ve emailed your login details to you so you can set it up on your computers and get started. Guv, how do you want to split the workload?’
‘I think if we split it alphabetically into groups of letters, that gives us a better chance of getting through all of this,’ Kay said after a moment’s consideration. ‘Does your database reflect recent deaths and instances where people have told you they’ve sold their firearms?’
‘It does, yes. We ran a complete purge of the system earlier this morning so we know we’ve captured everything up to yesterday’s intel.’
‘Right, well if you could make sure each person knows how to filter out those people from their search, that’d save wasting time. How many firearms certificate holders are there in Kent?’
‘From memory, over 17,000 people are holders,’ said Daniel, acknowledging the surprised whistles that filtered through the group. ‘And that doesn’t include shotgun certificates. If we were looking at those as well, it’s closer to 70,000.’
A shocked silence greeted his words, and Kay’s shoulders slumped at the realisation that there wouldn’t be a quick result.
She ran her gaze over the team. ‘I know some of you will be wondering why you’ve been allocated to this task and some of you will be feeling left out from the other enquiries we’re managing as part of this murder investigation. Let me tell you now that the information we need from this database is imperative to finding out who our killer is, so don’t underestimate the importance of what’s expected of you. However long it takes, we need this information cross-checked. Is that clear?’
A few of the older constables near the back stood a little straighter as a murmur of acquiescence swept over her, and then she nodded to Laura.
‘They’re all yours.’
She stepped out into the corridor when her phone started to ring, and answered it as soon as she saw the name displayed on the screen.
‘Harriet? How’re you getting on?’
‘We’re just packing up at the pub,’ said the forensics manager. ‘I’ve had two of my team acting as couriers throughout the night getting evidence across to the laboratory, and thanks to Sharp calling in a favour or two and given the nature of this one, they’re already working on what they’ve got.’
‘Thank God for that,’ said Kay, running a hand through her hair as she stared out the window at the street below.
Down there, pedestrians moved back and forth along the pavement oblivious to the frenetic activity within the police station, and she watched as a woman stopped to talk with another, their faces animated as they gossiped.
It was all so normal, so far removed from the scene that had confronted her last night, that she could imagine two separate worlds passing by each other without knowing the other was there.
‘Kay?’
‘Sorry, Harriet – I’ve got a million tasks running through my head at the moment, and I’ve lost a key member of the team to headquarters. What did you say?’
‘I’ve managed to borrow a ballistics expert from the Metropolitan Police – he’s someone I used to go to university with and one of the best experts within a fifty-mile radius of here.’
‘That’s great news – how soon can he––’
‘He’ll be here by three o’clock this afternoon, as soon as he’s finished giving testimony at the Old Bailey.’ Harriet’s voice grew muffled, and Kay heard someone else talking in the background before the CSI lead returned. ‘I’ll give you another call as soon as we’ve got more news, but I’ve got to go – we’ve got the last swabs to record into evidence, and I need to make a start on my initial report for you.’
‘Thanks, Harriet. I owe you.’
Kay lowered the phone, then leaned forward and rested her forehead against the coolness of the window’s privacy glass.
‘I am so out of my depth with this one,’ she murmured.