Random Targets (9 page)

A
ND SO BEGAN
a long and distressing night on the M3.

Temple played his part by coordinating the efforts of his team of detectives and scene of crime officers. He also liaised with the armed response unit when they finally arrived.

The footbridge and part of the embankment were cordoned off and the search for evidence started in earnest. Blankets were laid over the bodies on the carriageway and the paramedics and fire fighters were told to look out for casualties with gunshot wounds.

The motorway was the scene of frenzied activity: flashing lights, radio static, prostrate forms on stretchers, shouting, crying, vomiting. Those people who hadn’t been injured were confused and distraught. Some were draped in foil blankets while they waited to be taken to hospital. Others were consoled by shell-shocked police officers.

Fire fighters spent hours cutting drivers and passengers from wrecked vehicles. By midnight all the fires had been put out and all the vehicles involved in the collisions checked.

The death-toll had reached seven. Matherson, the pathologist, was on hand to determine how many of the dead had been shot. It turned out that four of them had – the two who’d been standing on the carriageway and two others who’d been driving at the time of their deaths. Three more people had serious injuries, one of them a child aged eight.

A lot of drivers had had lucky escapes. Several emerged from smashed-up cars virtually unscathed. One motorcyclist was
thrown thirty feet through the air on to the hard shoulder and lived to tell the tale.

Clearing the backed-up traffic was an enormous task in itself. It led to massive congestion on roads throughout the area. As dawn broke the M3 was still closed and littered with blackened wrecks.

And Temple still had no idea why it had happened and how the hell they could stop it happening again.

T
EMPLE LEFT THE
scene when there was nothing more he could do there. By that time the smoke was burning his throat and his mind was fogged by fatigue and adrenaline.

DS Vaughan took him home in a pool car and waited while he showered and changed. Vaughan then dropped him off at the hospital so he could pick up his car.

He popped inside to check on Angel, but she was asleep and he chose not to wake her. The nurse told him that she was comfortable and her condition was unchanged.

The incident room was packed and noisy when he got there, and the atmosphere was charged. It was barely twenty-four hours since the last major briefing, but there had been a significant shift in mood and attitude. Everyone was aware that the second sniper attack had turned the investigation into one that would attract worldwide attention. Twelve people had now been killed – six of them shot dead by the sniper. Ten others – including Angel – were in hospital with serious injuries. This was now the biggest case any of the detectives had ever worked on.

The challenge was immense. They had no motive: no promising leads and no clue as to the identity of the sniper, save for the fuzzy image on the security footage. And at the same time the pressure was building. The M3 attack had increased fears among drivers who travelled on motorways. One question being
posed in the media was why the motorways attacked were both in Hampshire. Were they picked at random or were they part of a pattern that had yet to emerge?

Temple spent half an hour bringing himself up to date. There were reports to read, calls to return. He also viewed the footage from the traffic cameras on the M3. Although they showed the actual pile-up the picture was poor, even with image enhancement.

First a lorry lost control and then a car. It led to a shunt involving more than fifty vehicles. There was no lighting along that stretch of motorway so both embankments were in total darkness. The sniper wasn’t visible and there was no sign of a muzzle flash from a rifle.

A couple of minutes after the crash two figures could be seen walking on to the carriageway after getting out of their cars. Temple’s heart gave a horrified lurch when he watched them suddenly fall to the ground having been shot.

He viewed the tape twice more and then spread the word that the briefing was about to begin. He set up two whiteboards with photos and maps and a list of subjects to be covered.

Chief Superintendent Beresford came down along with half the press office. As Temple got things going he wasn’t surprised to see lots of red, puffy eyes in the room. Very few of the detectives had had any sleep. They’d spent the night out on the motorway or in the office logging calls and writing up telephone interviews.

Temple had never seen his team so tense and solemn. Fiona Marsh was gnawing at her nails like there was no tomorrow. Dave Vaughan’s forehead had deeper creases than the Grand Canyon. And Beresford was chewing frantically on nicotine gum.

There was none of the usual banter and telling of crude jokes. No one tried to lighten the mood with an insult or gratuitous remark. They all understood that this case called for the highest degree of professionalism and the utmost concentration.

‘So here’s what we have,’ Temple said. ‘The sniper was up on the embankment just in front of the footbridge that runs
between the M3 and the A33.’ He pointed to a map that was pinned to one of the boards. ‘Last night SOCOs found four shell casings just here. For the second time the sniper didn’t bother to take them with him. Ballistics have confirmed that they match the bullets used in the previous attack.

‘Once again he shot two people while they were driving. The bullets went straight through the windscreens. His intention must have been to cause another multiple collision. But this time he also shot two drivers who got out of their cars. All four were struck in the head. That can’t have been by accident. This guy is a first-class marksman. And according to ballistics he’s using a top‑notch sniper rifle.’

Temple produced a sheet of paper that had just been faxed over from the National Ballistics Intelligence Service.

‘The experts are a hundred per cent certain that the bullets were fired from a rifle used by the British army,’ he said. ‘It’s the L115A3, also known in the military as the “silent assassin”.’

Most of the team had heard about the weapon which had earned a deadly reputation in Afghanistan, but they weren’t familiar with the details contained in the report.

‘The rifle has a folding stock so it can be carried in a backpack or rucksack,’ Temple said, reading from the document. ‘It has a telescopic sight that can magnify targets up to twenty-five times. It has a five-round magazine and a suppressor that reduces noise and muzzle flash. And it has an effective range of over a thousand yards.’

‘That’s an impressive piece of kit,’ DS Vaughan said.

‘Too bloody right it is,’ Temple said. ‘And it’s not the kind of rifle you’d expect an amateur to be using. So there’s a good chance the guy is military or ex-military.’

Temple was told that they were still waiting for the Ministry of Defence to get back to them. The team had asked for a list of trained army snipers and military personnel who were currently in the UK. They also wanted details of any servicemen and women who were considered high risk, perhaps because they had a history of mental illness.

‘We need that information now,’ Temple said. ‘So chase up
the MOD. If you think they’re dragging their feet intentionally then let me know.’

Temple then opened up the meeting to questions and ideas. He wanted to hear their thoughts and theories.

‘We should check out the traffic cameras on the A33,’ someone said.

Fiona Marsh pointed out that this was in hand.

‘Unfortunately, there are no cameras for several miles in either direction from the spot where it happened,’ she said. ‘And it’s a busy road, especially during the rush hour.’

‘Should we try to communicate with the sniper?’ DS Vaughan said. ‘If we can open a line of communication perhaps we’ll understand why he’s doing it.’

‘It’s something we should consider,’ Temple said. ‘We could make a direct appeal during the next press conference.’

This was a cue for the press office people to raise a bunch of issues. They said the media were clamouring for more information. A press conference had already been scheduled for later that morning. There were a dozen requests for interviews and motoring organizations were demanding to know what was being done to keep drivers safe.

Beresford spoke up for the first time at this point, his voice was high-pitched with urgency.

‘You don’t need me to tell you that these attacks have shocked the nation,’ he said. ‘If there’s another during this evening’s rush hour, fear will really get out of hand. Motorways are vital arteries. They keep the country running. If people stop using them then the financial implications will be enormous.’

He paused for a few moments and worked his jaw in circles as though in thought. There were small spots of perspiration on his forehead.

‘From the sniper’s point of view motorways are easy targets, especially in the dark and when they are busy,’ he said. ‘Drivers can’t see anything beyond the hard shoulders on unlit sections. All the sniper has to do is lie in wait and strike when he’s good and ready.

‘He also has plenty of time to make good his escape.
Motorways are usually surrounded by countryside. The sniper might well be the only pedestrian around for miles. And unless choppers get to the scene within minutes of an attack there’s no hope of catching him.’

A low murmur swept through the room. The Chief Super was spelling out a stark reality which most of them hadn’t yet come to terms with.

‘I’ve just heard that the Prime Minister intends to convene an emergency meeting later today of the COBRA Committee,’ Beresford said. ‘The Chief Constable has been asked to attend so that he can brief them on the investigation.’

For Temple this was not an unexpected development. COBRA meets to formulate government responses to national crises. In recent years it had been convened for the London bombings, the fuel strike and the knife attack on the soldier in Woolwich.

‘Downing Street wants to be seen to be doing all it can to find this maniac,’ Beresford said. ‘The sniper’s latest message has generated a high degree of concern and it seems certain that the investigation will now be led from London. But that doesn’t mean we stop what we’re doing.’

Beresford moistened his lips and turned to Temple, ‘I gather that only a few of us are aware of what was in the message. I think it’s time everyone was told.’

Temple cleared his throat and explained for those who didn’t already know that the sniper had sprayed another message in red paint on the floor of the footbridge.

‘He must have done it just minutes before he started shooting,’ Temple said. ‘He would have known that the footbridge would be one of the first places we’d check.’

Temple decided to write the short message on one of the whiteboards so that it would have more impact. He used a black marker pen and wrote it out in big bold letters.

THIS WON’T STOP UNTIL I’M DEAD

Then he stepped back and let everyone see why even the Prime Minister was now quaking in his boots.

T
HE SNIPER’S LATEST
message was so alarming that they feared it alone could lead to widespread panic. For that reason Temple did not want it in the public domain.

Much to his annoyance, though, someone went and leaked it to the media. He was tipped off about it just before he faced the second press conference, which meant he at least had time to prepare himself.

‘We are indeed taking the message seriously,’ he said in answer to a journalist’s question. ‘As you would expect we’re doubling our efforts to catch the sniper. And I’d urge the public to remain vigilant and report anyone they see acting suspiciously close to a motorway.’

‘What exactly do you mean by doubling your efforts?’ asked a reporter from Sky News.

Temple leaned forward across the table and pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. He kept his voice flat as he spoke into a collection of microphones.

‘Aerial surveillance is being stepped up along all motorways,’ he said. ‘That means more helicopters in the sky during the busiest periods, all with night vision capability. From today we’re also putting out more police traffic patrols and we’re increasing the number of officers working on the investigation to fifty.’

‘Do you believe the sniper will launch another attack during the rush hour this evening?’ This from a young female reporter with CNN.

‘We really don’t know,’ Temple said.

‘But it’s obviously possible,’ she persisted. ‘In which case what’s your advice to drivers planning to travel home from work on motorways? Should they avoid them and use other roads?’

This was a tricky one so Temple didn’t respond immediately. He ran his tongue around his mouth in the hope that Beresford, who was sitting next to him, would feel obliged to answer it. But he didn’t. So Temple said, ‘We can’t allow what’s happening to affect the way we live our lives. People have to go about their
normal business and that includes travelling on all major roads. The sniper can’t be everywhere at once so the chances of becoming a victim are miniscule.’

He knew it was a feeble answer, but then he couldn’t think what else to say. The last thing he wanted to do was encourage drivers to shun motorways. That would surely lead to chaos on a massive scale. Other roads would become gridlocked, causing heavy lorries to thunder through towns and villages that were ill-equipped to cope with them.

He moved on to talk about the security footage showing the man with the rucksack. The tape – which included shots of the car – had already been widely circulated along with photographs.

‘This man is our prime suspect,’ he said. ‘The car he used was stolen and he parked it as close to the M27 as he could. It’s possible he was carrying a weapon in the rucksack. We’d like to hear from anyone who thinks they might know him.’

Temple then gave a description of the L115A3 sniper rifle and pointed out that it was used by the British army, but was also available via the internet.

‘This is a very distinctive and powerful weapon,’ he said. ‘We believe it’s what the sniper is using. So we want to know who has one. It could be someone’s friend or neighbour. Or a dealer who sold one recently or in the past. Any information we receive will be treated in the strictest confidence.’

The questions continued at a blistering rate and several referred to the government’s decision to convene a meeting of the COBRA Committee. Beresford answered those and said that the investigation was now too big for Hampshire police to conduct alone. He said officers from the Anti-Terrorism Command were already working alongside his own team.

Finally Temple got around to appealing directly to the sniper.

‘We have no idea why you’re carrying out these shameful attacks,’ he said to the cameras lined up in front of the table. ‘We’d like you to tell us. You’ve murdered twelve innocent people. So surely there has to be a point to it. Get in touch and speak to us.’

He knew the appeal would generate numerous hoax calls,
but he also knew there was a small chance they’d hear from the sniper himself – if only so he could boast about what he’d done and what he planned to do next.

After the press conference, Temple retreated to his office and tried to pull his thoughts together. His brain felt splintered and dread lined his stomach.

He viewed yet again the video footage of the pile-ups and the sequence showing the man and woman being gunned down. They’d been identified as Joanna Frome, a 31-year-old secretary, and Phil Kavanagh, a 45-year-old solicitor and father of three. The two drivers murdered in their cars were both men in their fifties.

Temple then read through all the statements that were taken at both scenes and discovered what he already knew: nobody had seen anything, but that was hardly surprising given the circumstances.

Next he turned on his PC and went to Google maps. Using the satellite gizmo he studied the locations of both shootings. He was able to view the motorways and the bridges from various angles, and get a bird’s eye view of the areas around them. He could even put himself in POV mode and approach the crime scenes just as though he was driving a car.

What struck Temple was how easy it would have been for the sniper. His victims wouldn’t have seen him. The roar of the traffic would have smothered the sound of the shots. And having delivered death to the motorways, he would have been able to leave the scenes at a leisurely pace.

Temple found himself wondering why this hadn’t happened before. Had it really not occurred to terror groups like Al-Qaeda that it would be easier to target motorways than planes, tubes and government buildings? A high-powered rifle could do as much damage as a bomb, especially if used to cause a multiple collision involving vehicles travelling at high speed.

Temple picked up a folder containing all the details of those who’d died. He read the names and stared at the photos, his stomach knotting like a ball of twine. He wondered about the
sniper. Was he indeed an ex-military man? Someone who’d been trained to kill for a living? Someone who had learned to become emotionally detached from what he did? Someone who was insane or having a breakdown? The fact that he was using a British army sniper rifle suggested he could be, but that didn’t narrow the field by much since there were hundreds of military guys out there whose minds had been warped by conflict. The prisons were full of soldiers who’d snapped. In fact former servicemen were significantly over-represented in the prison system when it came to violent crime.

Temple’s eyes were suddenly drawn to the TV in the corner of the office. He saw himself speaking earlier at the press conference. Then there was a brief interview with the Home Secretary outside the Cabinet Offices in London where the COBRA Committee meeting was about to start. The volume was turned down so Temple couldn’t hear what he was saying.

‘I didn’t know you could lip read, guv.’

It was DC Marsh. She was standing in the doorway with a quizzical expression on her face.

Temple grinned. ‘I’m not really watching it. I’ll be out shortly.’

‘Well, I’ve come to tell you that I’ve just had a call from the MOD,’ she said. ‘They’ve arranged for us to meet a senior officer with the Royal Military Police’s Special Investigations Branch. He’s got information to impart.’

‘About bloody time. Is he coming here?’

‘No. We’re going to him.’

‘Oh, right. Where is he?’

‘Bulford in Wiltshire. It’s where the RMP are quartered.’