The Tunnel Rats by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online Page B

assigned to the case.'
    'Any other questions?' asked Wright, looking around the room.
    'Do you think the killer could strike again?' asked a local radio reporter.
    'It's a possibility,' said Wright.
    Reid stiffened and put a hand on Wright's arm. Wright shrugged him off.
    'A serial killer?'
    Before Wright could answer, Reid stood up. 'I'm afraid that's all we have time for, gentlemen.' He added as an afterthought, 'And ladies.'
    Wright looked up at his partner as if preparing to argue, but Reid gave a small shake of his head. The news broadcast cut away to a studio presenter.
    Edmunds muted the sound and flicked ash into a wastepaper bin. 'They haven't a clue,' he said.
    'It's a tough case, Clive.'
    Edmunds snorted dismissively. 'Those two couldn't crack a fucking egg.'
    'Maybe.' Hunter put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled ball of paper which he tossed to Edmunds. 'That wasn't funny,' he said.
    Edmunds held his cigarette between his lips and flattened the sheet of paper. It was the list he'd given Wright earlier. 'Made me laugh,' he said.
    'Yeah, well, go easy on him, will you? He's pissed off enough at me as it is.'
    Edmunds folded the sheet into an aeroplane and threw it towards a wastepaper bin. 'Well, you are sleeping with his wife, Gerry.' The plane missed the bin by several feet and ploughed into a grey carpet tile. He took the cigarette between his forefinger and thumb and blew a smoke ring. 'When all's said and done.'
    'Ex-wife,' said Hunter. 'Just leave him alone, huh?'
    Edmunds held Hunter's look for several seconds, then realised that his partner was serious. 'Okay,' he said. 'They can have all the rope they need.'
    '"1T 7e were set up,' hissed Wright as he stormed down the V V corridor. 'It was that bastard Hunter. I'm sure of it.'
    'Calm down, Nick.' Reid caught up with his partner and walked beside him. 'It wasn't too bad.'
    Wright waved his hand in the air dismissively. 'You heard that shit from the Mirror.1 He contorted his-fece and mimicked the crime reporter. '“When are you going to call in the Met?'”
    Reid held up his hands in mock surrender. 'Hey, I'm on your side.' He went over to the coffee maker and rilled two polystyrene cups. He took them back to the desk and poured in large measures of vodka, then passed one over to Wright.
    Wright glared at his partner for several seconds, then relaxed. It wasn't Reid he was mad at. He raised his cup and banged it against Reid's. 'Cheers,' he said, and drank gratefully. 'Are you working tomorrow?'
    'What else is there to do on a Saturday? What about you?'
    'Oh yeah, I'll be in. I need the overtime.' Wright flicked through his desk diary then groaned. 'Hell, 1 forgot, tomorrow's my day with Sean.'
    'No sweat. Where are you going to take him?' ** Wright closed his diary. 'I don't know. Trocadero, maybe. He likes video games. Where did you used to take Craig and Julie?'
    'The old favourites. British Museum. Science Museum. The zoo. Football.'
    'Been there, done that.' He reached over and took the prepared statement from Reid. He'd spent an hour working on it before the press conference but he still hadn't been happy with it. Wright was as aware as the journalists that the investigation had stalled before it had even started.
    'All right, lads?' said a deep, Glaswegian voice.
    Reid and Wright looked up. It was Detective Chief Inspector Ronnie Dundas, the fifty-year-old Glaswegian Newton had appointed as liaison officer on the investigation.
    Wright put down his cup guiltily. 'How's the incident room going, sir?' he asked.
    'Computers are in, HOLMES is up and running and there's a PNC terminal on line. We'll have two NCIS terminals connected by this afternoon.'
    The Home Office Large Major Enquiry System would be used to collate all the evidence and interviews produced during the investigation, and the Police National Computer and National Criminal Intelligence Service would provide online databases and criminal intelligence.
    'Who's office manager?'