‘It’s not your fault,’ said Lambert. ‘I’d have done exactly the same thing in your situation.’
‘I doubt that. He pulled out a pair of cuffs. He manoeuvred Moira so she was behind me and he made her cuff me, my hands behind my back. He then told Moira to sit opposite me. As soon as I was secure he seemed to relax. He came over and pulled the cuffs tight to my wrists. He kept pushing them into my skin until he could push no more. Christ, I screamed like a bloody child.’
Sackville wiped his sleeve across his eyes. ‘Moira screamed out for him to stop, and for some reason he did. Jesus.’
Lambert knew time was short. Recalling the incident was naturally having a great impact on Sackville, and Lambert feared he would break down again and that Patel would be forced to sedate him. ‘Have some more water.’
‘Thanks.’ Sackville coughed. ‘It’s the not knowing. That fucking bastard paced the room, and refused to answer our questions about what he wanted. I think he was plucking up the courage to do what…’
‘Tell me,’ said Lambert.
Sackville swayed forwards and back on his pillow, his neck and facial muscles so tense they looked liable to snap at any moment. ‘He stopped and looked at me, and I thought he was about to attack. He did, only it wasn’t me.’
‘This can’t continue,’ said Patel, almost as agitated as Sackville.
Lambert held up his hand. ‘Please go on, Eustace.’
‘He gagged her. It was fucking pitiful. I pulled at my cuffs, and they hurt even more, but I just kept fighting. The look in her eyes, Michael. You can’t imagine. I saw everything. Fear, pain, loss, accusation. I saw our whole fucking life together disappearing and I was helpless to do anything about it. She was pleading to me, Michael. She wanted me to help her.’ Sackville shook his head. ‘You’ll never fucking know.’ He began sobbing, and Lambert had to look away as Patel went to intervene.
‘Please, Eustace, just tell me,’ said Lambert, staring at the hospital-white wall of Sackville’s room.
‘This is finished,’ said Patel.
Lambert turned and looked back at Sackville, knowing he’d already pushed the man too far.
‘It’s okay,’ said Sackville, trying to compose himself. ‘He cut her, left wrist then right. It was almost tender, that sick bastard. Moira saw the blood and she disappeared. She didn’t look at me any more. I kept asking him, why, fucking why? I told him to kill me instead but he just sat on one of the other chairs staring at me, ignoring my screams. Watching.’
Sackville’s heart monitor began beeping rapidly, his heartbeat rocketing to one hundred and ten.
‘Enough,’ shouted Patel, pressing an alarm button.
As two nurses entered the room, Lambert called out. ‘Who was he, Eustace?’
‘I don’t know, Lambert. You need to tell Prue. Prue McKenzie,’ said Sackville, his voice a whisper as one of the nurses pulled a mask over his mouth and Lambert reluctantly left the room.
‘You must be doing something right. I’ve just received my first complaint about you.’
Lambert was sitting in Tillman’s office, the blinds pulled down. ‘Let me guess, Dr Patel?’
Tillman nodded. ‘Was it worth it?’
‘Unless he’s an Oscar level actor, then we can rule out Eustace Sackville. Directly, at least.’
Tillman, who was leaning back on his swivel chair, raised his eyebrows.
‘But I do think there was something he wasn’t telling me.’
Tillman’s chair groaned as he pulled himself upright. ‘You think he arranged it somehow?’
‘No, but I’m not ruling anything out yet. Why are we working on this, sir? Even if it’s not a routine murder it’s not really our department.’
‘I told you, lots of interested parties on this one. You were requested. It seems your work on the Souljacker business has made you something of a celebrity. It needs to be contained though. I don’t want it leaking to the press.’
‘Really? Have you informed the uniforms guarding his room?’
‘Yes, and the friends you’ve been making at the hospital.’
‘Sackville’s a journalist.’
‘No press,’ interrupted Tillman.
‘Whatever you say. What is my team on this?’
‘You’ll be the SIO and head our team. We’ll use outside help where necessary. You’ll be needing this.’ Tillman handed him a policy book.
Lambert smirked. Tillman was not renowned for following the rules. When they’d been part of The Group, the majority of the investigations had been so secretive that there was little or no record of them.
‘You can laugh, but there is a lot of attention on this so do it right.’
Lambert left the room, still confused as to the importance given to the case. His team were assembled in the office, studying their laptops and case notes. Kennedy approached. ‘How did it go with Mr Sackville?’
He relayed the conversation, noticing how intently Kennedy listened, her wide green eyes rarely diverting from his. ‘Shall I get everyone together?’ she asked.
Lambert nodded.
It was strange to head up a team after so long. Lambert stood in front of the six-strong team and called for silence. The team stared back at him, their faces a mixture of apathy and curiosity. He told them about his meeting with Sackville.
‘What do we have in the way of family members?’ he asked the room in general.
‘It’s a weird one, sir,’ said Kennedy. ‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone in the way of immediate family. Both sets of parents have long since passed away. Both Mr and Mrs Sackville are only children. They married twenty-five years ago but are childless.’
Lambert paused. ‘That might be relevant. Close friends, colleagues?’
‘I’ve arranged a meeting with the editor of Sackville’s paper for this morning,’ said Kennedy.
‘Good. Let’s find out what he was working on. Get to know his colleagues. What about our victim?’
A young DC, the newest member of the team, Steve Devlin got to his feet. ‘Mrs Sackville worked as a librarian,’ he said. ‘Dulwich Library. I’m planning to head over there after this, sir.’
‘Give that to Kennedy,’ said Lambert, noting the look of disappointment on Devlin’s face. ‘Sackville gave me the name “Prue McKenzie” when we talked. Kennedy, find out who she is. Get her thoughts on what happened.
