THE THESEUS PARADOX: The stunning breakthrough thriller based on real events, from the Scotland Yard detective turned author. by David Videcette Read Free Book Online

unusual.
    ‘That’s a nasty bump on your head,’ she said eventually, looking up over the top of her half-rimmed glasses at him.
    ‘Car accident this morning, lost my work phone… I need a new one, please.’
    ‘I can only do exchanges. You know that. If it’s been lost, I need a superintendent to authorise it before giving you another one.’
    ‘Malcolm Denswood authorised it – said he was going to call you as he can’t get in to sign the form right this second. It’s a bit on the busy side out there as you might know, Maggie… He’s not rung you?’
    All of that was lies, except the part about it being busy – but he coupled it with his best confused-looking face, which he hoped would do the trick.
    She shoved a new, boxed Nokia phone and a pile of lost property forms at him.
    ‘I need the forms done now!’ she barked.
    Jake looked down at the paperwork Maggie had handed him. The forms were going to take ages! There were dead bodies lying on London’s streets and in its Tube system and this civilian clerk wanted an hour’s worth of paperwork filling in? He waited until she was distracted by another officer and then departed quietly with his haul. He dropped the blank forms into a waste-paper bin outside her office as he made his way to the lift. He prayed that he didn’t have to wait fifteen minutes for one travelling down to the basement.
    The basement area of New Scotland Yard was one huge underground car park. Always jammed full of vehicles, it could often take half an hour just to get out of there. Today there were hardly any vehicles to contend with. The whole of the Yard were at the scenes, rushing home from annual leave or returning from the G8 summit up in Scotland. Jake found the silver BMW easily and sat in the car looking at a Branch team list that he’d picked up from the reserve office. It detailed all the officers’ names and phone numbers on it. Jake already knew whom he was going to call – someone he could bounce stuff off and whom he knew he could trust.
    He skimmed through the list until he spotted the name he was looking for… Detective Sergeant Leonard Sandringham.
    A career detective with more than twenty-five years of service under his belt, Lenny was a hard-working copper; one of the best Jake had ever worked with.
    They’d met when Lenny had been on the Area Crime Squad and Jake had been working on an operation involving the importation of drugs and stolen cars. They’d quickly become friends and not long after had both ended up working at the Branch, albeit on different teams.
    A slim, dapper silver fox in a tweed jacket, Lenny had two grown-up daughters and a long-suffering wife whom he adored. The day job had changed considerably during Lenny’s lifetime of policing – but his tales of noble cause corruption from earlier years on the force could still entertain.
    Jake plugged in the number listed and found that Lenny was currently on his way back from a camping trip in Devon. He’d cut it short after hearing the news about the attacks.
    They exchanged the usual pleasantries.
    ‘Have you got any plans for the next month, Len?’

11
    Thursday
    7 July 2005
    2000 hours
    The flat above the sari shop, Whitechapel, East End of London
    Jake parked the BMW on double yellow lines. He needed some fresh clothes. The Def Leppard T-shirt and baggy jeans had to go.
    Upstairs in his flat, he grabbed a holdall off the top of the wardrobe and started to pack.
    The place was baking. It had been shut up and neglected for almost a fortnight. The spider plant in the bathroom looked close to death; unwashed teacups in the sink had grown mould.
    Jake looked out through the sash window. There was no sign of Ted on the extension’s corrugated iron roof.
    The flat sat in a row of severely neglected Victorian properties that housed retail space down at street level. The buildings, though distinguished in their time, had faded as they’d fallen into disrepair. The place had been his