Free The Tunnel Rats by Stephen Leather Page A

printout of names and addresses. 'Trouble is, it's not an exhaustive list. A lot of men that age go walkabout and nobody misses them. Single men, contractors, tramps.'
    'And you can't be more precise about the age?'
    'Pathologist reckons fifty, give or take five years. We widened the age range a bit, just to be on the safe side.'
    'And you're telling me that two hundred men in their forties and fifties have gone missing?'
    Wright handed the print-out to the superintendent, who ran his eyes over it as Wright talked. 'They've been reported missing within the last three months, but a lot will have turned up, it's just that the police weren't told. People are quick to call up if someone goes missing, but not so quick to phone to say that the guy's turned up again. I've been going through the list, checking to see who's still not been accounted for and requesting photographs where possible. The problem is, sir, the face is in a real mess and I don't think we can rely on getting a match from a photograph.
    I want to narrow it down before we start bringing in people to identify the body.'
    'Agreed,' said Newton. 'The last thing we want is a stream of people filing past the corpse wondering if it's their nearest and dearest. What about identifying marks on the body?' He smiled thinly. 'And I don't mean the fact that his dick was cut off 'The post mortem mentions some scars on his back but doesn't go into detail. We weren't in on the post mortem because the pathologist called in the Met instead. I'm going to talk to her to see if there's anything else that might give a clue as to who he is.'
    'What about a search of the crime area?'
    'We had a fingertip search of the tunnel and a general sweep outside, but there wasn't anything. It was well planned, his clothes had been taken away, there were several knives used. Anyone who went to that amount of trouble isn't likely to have left anything lying about outside.'
    Newton exhaled deeply. 'And no witnesses?'
    Wright shook his head. 'There are no houses or gardens overlooking the area, and anyone using the road can't see down into the culvert. There was some dog shit around so we've got a man there interviewing any dog walkers. We're going to start a house-to-house once we've got the rotas worked out.'
    Newton stood up and went over to the whiteboard. He looked at the words Wright had written, and at the ace of spades he'd drawn. 'Who, when, how, why?' Newton read. 'Well, answer those questions, Nick, and the mystery is solved.' He turned around. 'I sasW you on TV.'
    'Ah.' Wright looked embarrassed.
    'At least you didn't allow yourself to be drawn on that serial killer question.' Newton sighed despondently. 'I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies. Go home and change, Nick. You've got a busy day ahead of you.'
    K ristine Ross rolled over and hugged her pillow, luxuriating in the warmth of her bed. She opened one eye and looked THE TUNNEL RATS 57 at the clock radio on her bedside table. It was just after two a.m. She closed her eye and tried to get back to sleep. Her alarm was set for six a.m. so that she could be in the office by seven thirty. She listened to her own breathing, then jerked involuntarily as she heard a soft scraping sound from the far side of her bedroom, as if the door had opened and brushed against the carpet. She opened both eyes. The door was closed. She sighed and tried to slip back into sleep.
    Sleep wouldn't come. She tossed and turned and rolled on to her side. Working for Senator Burrow was demanding, both physically and mentally, and normally she was so tired that she dropped off as soon as her head touched the pillow. The skin on her back tingled as if she was sleeping in a draught. She pulled up the quilt and drew her knees up against her stomach, curling up into a fetal ball. It was no use. She was wide awake. She opened her eyes. Immediately she stiffened. There was a dark shadow in the corner of the room in a place where she'd never seen a shadow