Free Random Targets by James Raven Page A

It was therefore on their list of places to visit today.
    ‘Well, I’ve beaten them to it,’ Temple said. ‘Tell them I’ll check it out and report back.’
    He switched off his phone and got out of the car. The security camera on the Global Imports unit wasn’t that easy to spot. It was positioned in one corner just below the roof and angled so that it covered the front of the building and part of the approach road.
    Temple had a quick look round and saw that there was no activity at any of the other units. Then he walked across theroad to Global Imports. He tried the front door and as it opened a bell rang somewhere inside.
    He stepped into a small reception area with a desk and a couple of cheap looking armchairs. There was a pile of cardboard boxes in one corner. An inside door opened and a man stepped through, short, thin and somewhere in his thirties. He wore jeans and a purple T-shirt and his arms were covered in tattoos.
    ‘Hello, there. Can I help you? I’m Michael.’
    Temple waved his warrant card and introduced himself.
    ‘Is this about what happened on the motorway?’ Michael said. ‘I saw all the police as I drove in this morning.’
    ‘I’m afraid it is,’ Temple said. ‘Are you here by yourself?’
    Michael frowned. ‘No. My partner’s out back packing boxes. We import domestic cleaning products. There’s just the two of us.’
    ‘And is this the only unit that’s occupied?’
    Michael nodded. ‘It is now. Two were vacated last year and the others have been empty since the estate opened.’
    ‘Were you or your partner here around five last evening?’
    Michael shook his head. ‘No way. We always knock off at three. Times are tough so we both have second jobs.’
    ‘What about the security camera out front? Is it on?’
    ‘It should be. We never turn it off.’
    ‘Does it record?’
    ‘For sure. Wouldn’t be much use to us if it didn’t.’
    ‘In that case I need a favour,’ Temple said.
    A few minutes later he was in a small storeroom out the back where the camera’s digital video recorder was kept. Michael’s partner Barry had to be called on to work the equipment. He was an overweight nerdy type with rimless glasses, a tan sweater and wild curly hair. He seemed to relish the opportunity to show off his skills. He explained that the camera was in record mode day and night and footage was stored on a hard drive for a week.
    ‘I’m curious to know if anyone came on to the estate around five o’clock yesterday afternoon,’ Temple said. ‘Either on foot or in a car.’
    Barry raised his brows. ‘You think maybe the sniper did?’
    ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’
    Barry took the tape back to three o’clock to show Temple when he and Michael had left the unit in their vans. The high-resolution picture was surprisingly clear and in colour. They watched as the vans pulled away from the building and disappeared down the lane.
    Barry then spun slowly through the tape and as darkness descended the infrared facility kicked in. Nothing happened until just before five. Then a car appeared briefly on the lane as it came on to the estate. It drove straight past the camera. It looked to Temple like a Ford Fiesta, but the figure beyond the windscreen was just a dark shape. The three of them continued staring at the screen until someone walked into shot.
    A man.
    With what looked like a rucksack on his back.
    ‘Jesus, I don’t believe it,’ Michael said. ‘Is that the bloke?’
    The guy had his back to them so they couldn’t see his face. He looked to be of average height and build and was wearing some kind of parka, just as Mrs Larkin had said.
    They watched, transfixed, as he walked along the lane and out of shot.
    ‘Spin forward again,’ Temple said. ‘Let’s see if he comes back.’
    It was no surprise to Temple when the guy reappeared. The time code on the tape read 18.02, which was just after the motorway shootings.
    To the detective’s immense frustration they still