Fifty Two Weeks of Murder by Owen Nichols Read Free Book Online Page A

paedophiles, criminal activity and anything linked to terrorism. They were the elite cyber intelligence unit in the country and were based in a building fondly referred to as the “Doughnut” in Cheltenham. Since the Investigatory Powers Bill in twenty sixteen, their ability to track any and all internet activity had increased exponentially. Mal had argued strongly against such a breach of civil liberties, but welcomed its use now, reeling off more work as his mind kicked into overdrive, the thrill of the chase pushing him on.
    “We need checks on everything linked to Buckland. Emails, smart phones, social media, Oyster cards, credit cards, cash cards, store loyalty cards and any other damn cards you can think of. Tap his phone, get his car plates on the system, have them tracked. Anything to do with Buckland or his family, I want scrutinised, turned over and torn apart.”
    Britain had become known as The Surveillance State in recent years and not without some justification. Anywhere between four and six million CCTV cameras followed your every move. Any individual will have their communications tracked several hundred times a day, with data from smart phones and computers stored in bulk, ready to be analysed at the push of a button. Combined with automatic number plate recognition technology and over seventy thousand cash machine cameras, Anders hated the fact that everyone was their own star of CCTV, making over three hundred appearances a day. Even in her profession, she didn’t see the need for it. There were other ways to hunt. Basic human weakness always won out and it was something Mal was keen to exploit.
    “Abi,” he said, pacing furiously. “Get me a profile, Anders, you can help. The best fugitives behave unpredictably, but he’ll make a mistake eventually. Buckland can hide from us, but he can’t hide from himself. I want to know his pressure points. What can’t he be without? Where will he retreat to when the paranoia gets to him? He’ll want contact with someone he knows, so once we’re done tearing his life down, I want everybody he’s ever met, anyone he’s ever spoken to or even looked at funny. Invade their lives so completely, you know them better than their own mother. I don’t care how grubby or invasive you feel, I want every last detail. Duncan, work with MIT, I want feet anywhere he’s linked to, a full search. Extend your PACE authority to each squad. Lucy, when you’re done, help speak to Matthew’s family, see if they might have anything that can help.” He paused once more, his fingers drumming the desk in agitation.
    “Anders, get his ex-wife in and his brother. Barry, go to counter-terrorism and get as much of their manpower as you can. I’m sure this comes under their remit.” Though part of the NCA, they were a separate and autonomous unit to Mal’s. He gazed at each member of his team intently, considering his words carefully.
    “We were made for this. Each of us is outstanding in our field, the very best the Force has to offer. The country will be looking to us for decisive action. Everything we do will be scrutinised to the highest degree, but remember one thing. The NCA is exempt from the Freedom of Information Act. There will be no leaks.”
    He needn’t have threatened the group. His tone made the consequences clear.
    “Let’s move. We have a killer to catch.” 
     
     
     
     

Chapter 6
    Anders brought Buckland’s ex-wife, Lady Margaret, into Abi’s office and had her sit on one of the comfortable chairs. She took the sofa opposite as Abi moved from her desk and sat next to Anders, both of them facing Lady Margaret. Anders took the opportunity to scrutinise the woman as she fussed in her handbag for some tissues. She was tall and regal, carrying herself with the manner of those born into wealth and titles. Anders knew Lady Margaret to be in her mid-fifties, but she looked much younger, with red, permanently flushed cheeks and hair tied in a fierce bun