Bryant & May on the Loose: A Peculiar Crimes Unit Mystery Page 0,18

across his lap. ‘I heard about your unfortunate mishap with the lease at Mornington Crescent.’

‘A technical formality, I’m sure,’ May lied back, accepting tea as pale as urine, piddled from a great height by a constricted silver spout. ‘It’s simply a matter of finding new premises.’

‘Not so simple, sadly.’ Faraday offered up a look of pantomimed injury. ‘Mr Kasavian, our security supervisor, doesn’t feel there’s really a pressing need for operational units like the PCU anymore.’

‘One of the unit’s main remits has always been to prevent loss of public faith in law and order,’ said May.

‘A rather nebulous concept, one feels,’ said Faraday, lasciviously eyeing the sandwiches.

‘Not when it involves the potential loss of millions, perhaps even billions, of pounds.’

Faraday’s fingers had been straying waywardly toward a Bath bun, but now he was brought up short. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

May knew he had to build his case carefully. ‘London is a major global crossing point, and King’s Cross is now the crossing point of London. As the home of the largest and most complex regeneration project in Europe, it’s undergoing the biggest upheaval in its millennia-old history. It’s where the channel tunnel arrives, and is set to act as the terminus for the Olympics. The government is hoping to attract billions in overseas investment to the area, and the building schedule must be strictly maintained if contracts are to be honoured. Of course you know all of this.’

‘Oh, indeed. Of course. Understood.’ Faraday looked blankly at May as he struggled to puzzle out the connection with the Peculiar Crimes Unit.

‘In fact, the area of wasteland between Euston and St Pancras is set to become an entirely new London district, with new policing requirements. It represents a potentially phenomenal contribution to the national economy. I’m sure you were copied in on the estimates, Leslie. By 2020 there will be around sixty-five million passengers a year passing through the King’s Cross Interchange. That’s more than the number of passengers currently passing through Heathrow Airport. It’s a tricky balance—preventing the area from descending into chaos while so much planning and building takes place. The number of undercover police officers operating in the King’s Cross area has recently been tripled. The crack dealers and con-men who used to hang about in the streets have all been moved on. And of course after seven/seven there’s always the threat of terrorism to deal with.’

‘What about the more domestic problems? Sex workers and teenage gangs are still an issue, I believe.’

‘True, they keep trying to come back. The gangs are based in the big public housing estates that border the area, but there are special units tackling those, and they’re having considerable success. Sex workers will always appear at points where so many journeys start and end, but the clip joints are closing, which means that they don’t have anywhere to take the punters. MAGPI—the Multi-Agency Geographical Panel—meets regularly with the Safer Neighbourhood Team to discuss harm reduction strategies, and the Met uses outreach services to conduct Environmental Visual Audits to reduce anti-social behaviour. King’s Cross will never again be as run-down as it once was. Teams of architects and construction engineers have already moved into key properties bordering the site. So it’s essential not to return to the bad old days of organised crime. But there are bound to be new territorial battles in the area. As it becomes more prosperous, hard-line criminals will be trying to move back in.’

Even someone as obtuse as Faraday could sense that May was getting at something. The civil servant realised there would be no easy enjoyment of the sandwiches. He raised an enquiring eyebrow.

‘I mention this,’ said May casually, ‘because it looks like organised crime has already returned to the area. Today one of my men found a headless body in a shop on the Caledonian Road, right near the main line station.’

Faraday’s eyes widened imperceptibly. He could see himself missing the 5:45 p.m. train home from Charing Cross. ‘Your men?’ he said. ‘You don’t have any men anymore.’

‘It looks to me like a professional execution, because the head has been expertly removed. The odd part is that other identifying marks remain. There are no further injuries, so I think there’s a reasonable chance that if we find his head there’ll be a single bullet wound in it.’

‘You know that Operation Trident was set up to combat gun-related activity—’

‘—within London’s young black communities, yes, but this is different. The victim is a white man in his early