Silent Night - By Tom Barber Page 0,60

against a height chart, holding a placard with their full name and prison ID in white on the front. The team paused and took a good look at the men they were hunting.

On the left of the screen, Rourke was staring grimly ahead. He looked unhealthy, his black hair messy, his face flushed. The black chart behind his head said he was five-eight. To the right, Sway was taller, over six foot with that short mullet haircut that Peterson had described. He looked lean and angry, his eyes hard as he stared into the camera like the lens would shatter if he did it hard enough. Under the vital stats came the charges against the two men. The lists were long.

‘Send out the photos and profiles to every precinct in the NYPD,’ Shepherd told Rach. ‘Let’s get a manhunt going.’

'Yes, sir. There are two more files here too.’

She pulled them up. Rourke and Sway’s files disappeared, replaced by two others, a man and a woman. They were both in orange overalls too. It seemed prison service was a prerequisite for joining The Stuttgart Soldiers. The man had bleached white hair and dark eyes with a nasty scar across his eyebrow. The woman was dark-haired and looked tough as hell.

‘The man is called Ryan Wicks,’ Rach read. ‘In and out of prison the last few years. Suspected perp in several homicides in the San Antonio area.’

‘What’s the scar from?’ Archer asked.

‘Someone tried to stab him in prison.’

‘The woman?’

‘Natasha Drexler. Former prostitute and heroin addict. Did time for assault and battery. Lead suspect in four unsolved murders in Southern Texas.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Josh said. ‘Not exactly Romeo and Juliet, are they?’

Shepherd turned to Archer.

‘Try your friend again. I want information on Jacobs before he gets here.’

Archer nodded, pulling his cell and pushing Redial. The call connected, and he put it on speakerphone.

‘Chalk?’

‘Yeah, I’m here mate.’

‘Good. You’re on speakerphone.’

‘OK. I’m with one of the analysts now. CID have a file on Jacobs. It’s not as clean as you thought.’

‘Shoot.’

‘CID did an investigation a couple of years ago into a loan shark operating out of Canary Wharf. They pulled his list of clients and one of them was your man Jacobs. They’ve got him tagged as a gambling addict and therefore possible blackmail material. They think he’s owed well into seven figures on occasion. He’s always managed to pay the debts and keep his record clean but it’s been close a couple of times and he attracted CID attention as a consequence. He’s never been charged with anything though.’

‘That’s why he’s still able to practise as a lawyer,’ Archer said, as Shepherd nodded.

‘Apparently his divorce hasn’t helped his bank account either.’

‘Anything on his ex-wife?’

‘Hang on. Bringing her up now.’

Pause.

‘Nothing relevant. He dodged a bullet there though, Arch.’

‘How so?’

‘I’m looking at a picture of her. He must have married her after losing a bet. She’s a dog. Got a face put together like a ransom note.’

The comment was so inappropriate and unexpected that Marquez, Josh and Rach burst out laughing, immediately quelled by a look from Shepherd.

Archer fought hard to hide a smile and shook his head.

‘Anything else?’

‘Yeah. He’s got a kid that he was battling to get custody of but it was awarded to his wife. The gambling is his kryptonite though. If you want somewhere to push, there you go.’

‘Alright, thanks.’

‘I’ll call you next week. Stay out of trouble.’

‘Later.’

Archer hung up, then turned to Shepherd. ‘So he’s a gambling addict. And he’s got a kid. That’s stuff to work with.’

‘Maybe that’s why he’s involved in this,’ Marquez suggested. ‘He needs the money.’

Jorgensen suddenly appeared at the door. Shepherd saw him arrive. ‘Welcome back.’

Jorgensen nodded.

‘I passed a black-and-white outside ,sir. The lawyer you were after just arrived.'

At Kearny Medical, Dr Glover tried to blink fear out of his eyes as he worked, forcing himself to focus. It wasn’t easy. He’d just seen the woman who’d kidnapped him shoot a lady in the head as she stepped out of the elevator. The woman’s body had been dragged off and dumped in a room with Melissa’s. Glover had caught a glimpse of a whole pile of bodies inside when the door was opened. He felt as if he was in a nightmare.

Sitting at the desktop and wearing a bio suit, Glover was working on the distinct orders the curly-haired man with the gun had given him earlier. He’d demanded that Dr Flood’s virus be mixed with a nutrient broth already here at the lab. The resulting mixture