Silent Night - By Tom Barber Page 0,45
closing the door and joining his three detectives. He passed Archer the folder.
‘Guess you’re in the hot seat,’
‘He’s giving me the creeps.’
‘Me too. But thank God he’s humouring us. I think he could have broken through the handcuffs if he’d sneezed.’
As Shepherd spoke, Josh entered from the door that led out into the main corridor, joining the detail.
‘The girl from his apartment is called Kim Baines,’ he told them. ‘She’s a nobody. Only a couple of minors on her file for indecent exposure and possession of cocaine. She’s getting cleaned up and drug-tested.’
Shepherd nodded. He turned back to Archer and jabbed a finger at Gunnar, who was sitting patiently the other side of the glass.
‘Get him talking, any way you can. The guys we took out at the house are part of his crew. I want names and details.’
Archer nodded. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, twisted the handle and walked into the interrogation room.
This is going to be interesting, he thought.
Inside the cell, Gunnar was sitting in the chair facing the door. He smiled warmly when the blond detective entered the room.
‘Just the man I wanted to see.’
Archer ignored him, closing the door and taking a seat across the table. He placed the folder on the desktop between them and opened it. There were three photographs inside. He took them out and slid them towards Gunnar, lining them up in a neat row.
The photographs were all fresh from the two crime-scenes, taken directly from above. They showed each of the three bombers' faces.
The giant neo-Nazi looked down at them as Archer watched him closely.
He saw a quick flicker of recognition.
‘You know who they are.’
‘Yes, I do. Seen them look a lot better though.’
‘I need their names.’
Gunnar leaned back and smiled.
‘Hold on, handsome. There’s no rush.’
‘Yes, there is. We need this information now. The longer you don’t comply, the longer you’ll be here.’
‘You have something to charge me with?’
‘Your girlfriend’s getting drug-tested right now. Something tells me the results aren’t going to be good. We could pop a needle in you too. See what shows up.’
Gunnar smiled.
‘She’s not my girlfriend. Just a girl from my crew. But drug test me if you like. Anything you find will be legally bought and paid for.’
Archer looked at the swollen, muscular frame of the man. His arms and shoulders looked like they were about to burst.
Somehow I doubt it, he thought.
In the silence, Gunnar gazed at him, examining his face. It made him feel uncomfortable as hell but he used all his experience to hide it.
‘Damn, you look good,’ Gunnar said. ‘You should consider joining our society. We’d love to have you.’
Archer glanced at the ink on the man’s neck, shoulders and arms. A litany of tattooed hate.
‘Sorry. Not my thing.’
‘You can’t fight nature, my friend. You look better than any poster-boy I’ve ever seen.’ He leaned forward. ‘And it would be worth your time. The women in our organisation would go crazy for you.’
‘Tell me who these men are.’
‘I understand. You’re a detective, after all. But think about it. Whenever this investigation is over, look me up.’
‘Names.’
Gunnar smiled. He paused for a moment then pointed at the photo on his far left. The face under his meaty forefinger was the youngest of the group, the one Marquez had taken down in the corridor at the house.
‘The kid's called Donnie Stahl. The one beside him is Nathan Hansen,’ he said, pointing at the guy found in the restroom with the broken neck. ‘And the fat guy is Paul Bleeker. ’
Archer glanced at the one way mirror to his left and nodded. Outside, Shepherd and the team would already be going to work with the names.
‘Did you know them well?’
‘No. They were kids. Not my circle. But I’ve seen them around, at rallies and at concerts.’
He frowned.
‘But there’s one missing.’
‘What?’
‘I never saw this group as a three. They were always a four.’
‘Who’s the fourth guy?’
‘He’s called Ray. Ray Creek. Think he lives over in Sunnyside.’
He tapped Bleeker’s photo, the man Archer had killed.
‘Anyway, this guy was the leader.’
Archer pulled back the photo and examined it. ‘Tell me about him.’
‘Late-twenties. Dropped out of high school, no skills. He was always going to be at the bottom of the heap. Lazy and talentless. But I’ve seen him around. He tried to intimidate people and throw his weight around. Typical high school bully.’
‘But that didn’t work with you,’ Archer said, looking at Gunnar’s bulk.
The neo-Nazi leader grinned and shook his head.
‘Very perceptive. Not just a pretty