Farrell couldn’t contain himself any longer. He charged down the stairs to the custody suite only to meet a pained-looking DI Moore emerging from the interview room. The reason for her lack of exuberance soon became apparent. Behind him, accompanying Baxter, was Sergio Bertucci: the most feared defence attorney in Glasgow. He was getting on in years now, silver hair thinning on top, but he still had the kind of presence that hushed a room when he entered. Farrell had often thought he could have been a star of the big screen. He’d seen him in action in trials a number of times and the jury had been putty in his hands. Farrell tried to carry on past them as though he had urgent business elsewhere but Bertucci didn’t buy it for a minute. He paused, blocking his way; a man mountain.
‘DI Farrell, it’s been a while.’
‘Feels like only yesterday.’
‘I see you’re still harassing my unfortunate client.’
‘He broke into my house,’ said Farrell. ‘What would you have me do? Offer to fill his swag bag?’
‘The door was open. My client was merely paying a social call. There’s really no need for all this … hysteria.’
Farrell clenched his fist then swiftly unclenched it. The small movement did not go undetected, and the corners of Bertucci’s mouth turned up slightly.
‘Always a pleasure, DI Farrell,’ he said, holding out his hand.
Farrell looked at him with loathing, reluctant to shake hands with the man but, given that DI Moore was staring at him, he felt he had no choice.
A few minutes later he swung by DI Moore’s office. Without waiting for an invitation he sat down opposite her. She regarded him coolly and waited for him to speak.
‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘Did you get anything out of him?’
‘Sorry, Frank. Bertucci arrived before the interview even started.’
‘But he’s based in Glasgow. How did he get here in time?’
‘That’s down to bad luck, I’m afraid. He was already here for another client: someone vice brought in last night.’
‘Did he admit to having an accomplice?’
‘No, he stuck to his story. We’ve still got enough to charge him though.’
‘I suppose that’s something.’
‘I’m hoping to get a voice ID set up during the six-hour window before I have to charge and release him on bail. Would you mind overseeing that for me?’
‘No problem. Anything else I can help you with, Kate?’
‘While you’re here you may as well look over that bogus article we’re going to place in the local paper,’ said DI Moore, pushing a piece of paper across the desk.
Farrell scanned it, sucking in his breath.
‘This is going to get a reaction.’
‘That’s the idea,’ she said. ‘Clare Yates supplied some of the material, though we’ve given the name of a fictitious expert to avoid her becoming a target. I’ll need to show her the finished article so it can go in for the end of the week.’
‘Actually, I’m going to be seeing her tonight,’ said Farrell. ‘I’ll give it to her then.’
‘Oh, are you and she …?’
‘Sort of … early days yet,’ said Farrell. ‘Anyway, stick the article on my desk when you’re done,’ he said as he walked out the door.
He swung by Mhairi’s desk.
‘How’s that voice ID coming along?’ he asked. ‘Can we do it while he’s still in custody?’
‘All organized,’ she said. ‘Two uniforms are picking up Mrs Mitchell at the moment. We should be good to go in half an hour or so, Sir.’
‘Remember, make sure it’s conducted by a uniform sergeant who has had no prior involvement with either of the investigations.’
‘That’ll take some doing, Sir. I reckon I might need to scare up someone from the mobile support unit at this rate.’
‘Just do it. If we get a positive ID, I don’t want Bertucci getting it ruled as inadmissible on a technicality.’
Mhairi nodded acquiescence.
‘Give me a shout when you’re ready to proceed.’
‘Will do, Sir.’
His next stop was the HOLMES room.
‘Any points of commonality between the abducted children yet?’ he asked the Duty Sergeant.
‘Nothing, as of yet. Different doctors, dentists, nurseries, health visitors.’
‘Were they all born in the local hospital?’ asked Farrell.
‘Them and every other kid in Dumfries. There’s still only one maternity hospital. We’ve interviewed everyone in the hospital records department. They all check out,’ said the sergeant.
‘Have you checked the social work employee records for the last year for the name Michael Black?’ asked Farrell.
‘No, Sir, I’ll get right on it,’ he said.
‘Both sets of twins were abducted using the names of real social workers and credible paperwork,’ said Farrell. ‘It would make sense if he has a connection there. Check casual workers and cleaners as well. Look for something that would let him snoop about the building when no one else is there.’
‘Makes sense,’ said the sergeant, fingers tapping fast on the screen. Farrell turned to go. He stopped in his tracks.
‘So far, the only point of commonality is the fact they are identical male twins. Neither family had any previous social work involvement. Check into whether there are any associations in the town that provide support to parents with twins. The local health visitors should know.’
‘Is that it, Sir?’ asked the sergeant with an expression on his face that said it was going to be a long night.
‘One more thing,’ said Farrell. ‘What were the names of the two sets of twins again?’
‘Mark and Jamie were the first twins taken and Paul and Andy were the second set,’ replied the sergeant after consulting a sheaf of papers.
‘Mark, James, Paul, and Andrew … all names of the apostles,’ said Farrell, feeling his stomach lurch.
‘There’s been other religious symbolism in this case. It would make perfect sense for the killer to select his victims based on such a criterion.’
Farrell grabbed a pad and paper and scribbled down the names of the twelve apostles.
‘Feed this into the twin database you’ve built up. It may help us predict where he’s likely to strike again. Surely there can’t be that many pre-school sets of twin boys in a town this size who both have names of an apostle?’
‘It’s worth a try, Sir,’ said the sergeant, settling down in front of the screen.
Farrell glanced at his watch, then, after grabbing a cup of coffee from the canteen, made his way down to the aural ID suite. He slipped into an interview room nearby when he saw a uniform sergeant, whose name escaped him, heading down the corridor with the woman from Head Start Nursery. She looked sick with anxiety and appeared even thinner than when he had last clapped eyes on her.
The sergeant escorted the woman into the viewing gallery, although she would not be able to see the twelve men below. Each of them would have to read words from a card that reflected what Mrs Mitchell could remember of the brief phone conversation when she had phoned to check the authenticity of the paperwork. Farrell was joined by Mhairi ten minutes later and they waited in silence for the result.
After around twenty minutes they heard the door to the identity suite open, and Mhairi popped out to escort the witness from the station and ensure she had no contact with Baxter. Farrell waited until they had passed and popped his head round the door to catch the sergeant.
‘Well?’ he demanded.
‘We got a result, Sir. No hesitation. As soon as he read from the card she knew it was the voice she had heard.’
Farrell punched the air in triumph. Finally, some good news.
‘Is he going to be charged, Sir?’
‘No, he’ll be processed for release. There isn’t enough evidence to charge him as an accomplice to abduction yet. The attempted burglary is just a summary matter so he’ll be released on police bail pending an appearance at the sheriff court in the morning.’
Farrell thanked the man for helping him out and went upstairs. The idea of Baxter waltzing out of here made his blood boil, but he knew he had no option if he wished to ever see him brought successfully to trial. Baxter wasn’t going to worm his way out of this one.