Free Silvermeadow by Barry Maitland Page A

when Mount Mauna Loa erupts for the Hawaii Experience.’ Jackson beamed—the rosy-cheeked village constable, Kathy thought.
    The closed-circuit television screens were of most immediate interest to Brock, two banks each of six screens, each screen split into four images that continuously flicked from scene to scene. Brock went over and stood between the two people monitoring the screens, seated in shirtsleeves, their leather jackets slung over the backs of their chairs, one Speedy and the other, introduced now as Sharon, the young woman who had been in the reception party at the mall entrance. Brock leant forward, asking questions, and they showed him how their control panels worked, selecting individual images, freezing, zooming, panning.
    Harry Jackson turned to Kathy, trying to include her. ‘Ever worked in this part of the country, Kathy?’
    ‘A little. I was in traffic for a while before I joined CID.’
    ‘But never in Two Area, eh? I think I’d have remembered if I’d come across you.’
    She shook her head. ‘I was in Eight Area before I went to SO1.’
    ‘Ah.’ Jackson seemed satisfied, the genealogy established.
    ‘Gavin and I go way back. We were at West Ham together,’ he said to her. ‘When did you arrive, Gavin?
    Eighty, was it?’
    ‘Eighty-one,’ Lowry said.
    ‘Then you moved on to Dagenham. And who’s your chief now?’
    ‘Forbes.’
    ‘Old Mother Forbes? What’s he now? Going for commander, last I heard.’
    ‘No, no, no.’ Lowry shook his head dismissively. ‘No way. Chief super still. He should do what you did, Harry. Get out.’
    Jackson chuckled at that one. ‘Think anyone would have him, Gavin? Not out here. Not in the real world, mate.’ He turned to Kathy, wondering if he’d been tactless. ‘Met Mr Forbes, have you, Kathy?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘He’s not exactly what you’d call a hands-on working copper. A committee man, not like Mr Brock there.’
    ‘Not any more, Harry. Forbes is SIO on this one.’
    ‘Senior investigating officer! Forbes?’ Jackson exploded, then, seeing Brock turn sharply to see what was going on, lowered his voice and murmured, ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Gavin. For all our sakes.’
    ‘Harry,’ Brock called. Jackson snapped to attention and hurried over. ‘Would it be in order for me to brief your people here?’
    ‘Course. Hush everyone! Listen up, please. Chief Inspector Brock from Scotland Yard wants to say a few words.’
    Brock cleared his throat, the hum of the machines suddenly loud as the humans went quiet. ‘We’d appreciate your help in tracing the movements of a fourteen-year-old girl by the name of Kerri Vlasich, from the Herbert Morrison estate, who was last seen at her school on Monday, sixth of December. The body of a naked girl matching her description was found earlier today, and it seems probable that it was dumped in the blue compactor here at Silvermeadow.’
    This sparked a murmur of interest. Speedy turned from his consoles, and Kathy caught a glimpse of a pale face, jaw working on chewing gum, the screens reflecting in his large eyes.
    ‘We would be interested in any recent sightings of the girl. She had a casual job in the food court, at Snow White’s Pancake Parlour, and we shall be distributing photographs and a description of her shortly. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, was slight of build, and when she left home was carrying a distinctive backpack in the form of a bright green frog. Does this ring a bell with anyone?’
    People shook their heads. There were so many people going through the mall.
    ‘Your video tapes should help us, Harry,’ Brock went on. ‘It may take a bit of a search . . .’
    ‘Ah, that would be something. But I’m afraid not.’ Jackson shook his head regretfully.
    ‘How can you be sure?’
    ‘Because the tapes are reused almost as soon as they’re run through, Mr Brock. Right, Speedy?’ Speedy nodded. ‘Six-hour tapes, rotated in threes or fours. That’s the way the system’s