Whacked in Whitechapel Page 11

  “Why do you think they got me to lecture you on pathology?” Jake said, ignoring the remark as the laughter died down. “There’s usually not that much to laugh about in my line of work. I do get to work with the police, though. And there are some characters who show up in my office that way. Some of them are pretty cute, too,” he continued, looking at me again, and this time it was my turn to blush.

  For the next hour and fifteen minutes Jake continued his speech about pathology, and I actually gained quite a bit of insight into exactly what it was he did. While I’d seen autopsies performed in medical school it was all very clinical and sanitized; Jake managed to humanize it quite a bit. He mentioned how he always took care with people, knowing that when they were murdered their bodies were left with very little dignity, and that he did his best to treat bodies with respect, knowing that there was always someone out there who cared. And even if there wasn’t, Jake explained, he cared. He was taught to treat people with dignity, and he thought that applied to both the living and the dead.

  By the time the lecture ended, I realized every single eye in the room was pasted onto Jake. Unsurprisingly, he had been an incredibly charismatic speaker. As the students filed out of the room–I noticed at least three girls and one man asking him mundane questions at the end just to slip him their phone numbers–I hovered at the back of the room and waited for it to empty. Finally, as the last person left, I made my way toward Jake.

  “So?” he asked, grinning. “What did you think?”

  “I think you just helped create a whole bunch of competition for yourself,” I answered. “Half this class is going to want to do what you do now.”

  Jake laughed. “That’s good, right?”

  “That’s very good. You were awesome. I mean it.”

  “Well, now that you’ve said that, I can get rid of these,” Jake replied with a wink, tossing the pieces of paper he’d been given by students with their phone numbers into the trash.

  “Just hedging your bets in case I said you were awful?” I teased, and Jake laughed.

  “Yup, for sure. I thought the guy was kind of cute.”

  I snuggled my arm into his as we headed back out toward the exit. “Do you want to grab a quick lunch or something?” Jake asked, and I nodded.

  “Sure, but I might beg off at any minute. I haven’t heard from Violet yet, but if she texts, I’ll have to go.”

  “Of course. So you haven’t found the vials yet?” he asked quietly, and I shook my head.

  “No. We almost got them last night, we ended up at a club owned by Serbian gangsters, and then the apartment of one of his compatriots, but they had already moved the vials.” We ended up walking to a Pizza Express nearby and got seated by the window where we could watch the passersby as we spoke.

  “I need to know the rest of that story,” Jake told me. “Serbian gangsters? Really?”

  “I wish I was joking. They’re the ones who have the vials now.”

  “Any idea what they’re going to do with them?” Jake asked, concerned, and I shook my head.

  “No. We’re out of ideas. Violet said she’s going to spend the rest of the time we have thinking.”

  “Well, her brain is her biggest asset. But when you say you guys snuck into a gangster’s club, you’re being safe about it, right? I mean, I’m happy for you to go off and solve crimes with Violet, but this sounds dangerous.”

  “It’s ok,” I replied. “Violet brought a Taser, which she put to good use.”

  Jake burst out laughing. “Of course she did. I wonder where she got a Taser from.”

  “Probably stole it from one of the cops. Did you know she has a whole collection of stolen police badges?”

  “I did not know that, no. That’s insane. Tell me the whole story though, I need to know this.”

  By the time I’d gotten through the whole thing Jake was practically in tears, and it wasn’t from the jalapenos on the pizza.

  “I know I’m not supposed to find this funny, since there’s now a very real threat of an attack, but I just can’t help it. Everything about your adventure last night is amazing.”

  “I’ll probably be able to find it funny if we manage to find the Ebola before anything bad happens.”

  “Yeah, I get that. And you really have no idea where it could be?”

  “None whatsoever. I’m not even bothering to try and figure this out. If Violet can’t do it, then there’s no way I’ll be able to.”

  “What about if you see her creepy sister again?” Jake asked. “I remember when her husband was killed. I never made the connection that she was actually related to Violet.”

  “I don’t think the sister will actually know this. She knew the Serbians were involved, but this is getting into the details.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Well, hopefully the lawyers will convince Petkovic and Dragan to give up the location.”

  “I hope so,” I said, but I wasn’t really holding out that much hope.

  “So,” Jake continued. “Are you going to go back to med school and become a pathologist now that you’ve heard my riveting description of the job?”

  I laughed. “Honestly, I’m not really interested in working with the already dead. Although, I have been considering maybe putting an application in to go back to medical school.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jake asked, and I recounted my conversation with Brianne.

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Jake told me. “This way you don’t have to make a decision straight away, but the option is there for you if you decide to take it.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m just not sure yet. I mean, I can’t sit around doing nothing for the rest of my life. And sure, playing Sherlock Holmes with Violet is a lot of fun, but I don’t help her with all of her cases, and I feel like I have a lot to offer the world other than playing tourist here in London.”

  “I know what you mean,” Jake said. “And it’s good that you’re starting to feel this way. It means you’re starting to get through your depression more fully. I’ve already noticed that you seem a lot more energetic than when I first met you. This is good.”

  “I know,” I said quietly, nodding. “I’m happy about that.”

  Jake reached over and took my hand. “If you ever need anything, anything at all. I’m here, remember?”

  “Thanks,” I told him with a smile. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

  Right then and there, I felt like the luckiest woman alive.

  Chapter 19

  Eventually Jake had to get back to the morgue, and I had to get back to my worried panicking about the potential terrorist attack. I made my way back to Eldon Road, but rather than go into my own apartment, I knocked on the door of Violet’s house.

  “Come in!” Violet called from inside, and I opened the door and walked in. I was sure Violet had to have security cameras watching her front door; there was no way she could know it was me, otherwise, and quite frankly in Violet’s line of work leaving the front door unlocked with no extra security had to be a bad idea. But, no matter how hard I looked, I could never see the cameras that I knew had to be there.

  When I got to Violet’s study, I stopped. Violet was sitting in the middle of the floor, legs crossed, eyes closed, like some kind of yoga guru. Around her was what looked like about half a forest worth of paper. Every inch of the floor was covered, and what didn’t fit on the floor had been tacked onto the wall and bookcases, so that nearly every inch of the room was now completely white.

  “Did a tree explode in your study or something?” I asked, moving into the kitchen and grabbing a chair, and bringing it back to the study. I placed the chair on the edge of the pile of papers and sat down. Violet opened her eyes and stretched her arms upwards.

  “No, I asked DCI Williams to send me a copy of everything he had on this case. Apparently the police thought the paperwork was more important than actual investigation. I added my own discoveries as well. Now I have everything we know about this case here.”


  “And you’re trying to figure it out through osmosis?” I asked, picking up the sheet closest to me. It was a police report on an old arrest of Filip Petkovic for a suspected robbery. The charges were eventually dropped due to a lack of evidence.

  “I am trying to figure it out by thinking. There must be something that we have missed. Something to help us find the rest of the men. Something to help us figure out exactly who is behind all of this. Something to help us discover where they have taken the vials.”

  “That sounds like as good a reason as any to keep thinking,” I said with a small smile, grabbing another sheet of paper off the floor. This one was a list of all the people suspected to be a part of Petkovic’s gang. There were about thirty names on it, and they were listed in order of hierarchy, with Petkovic on top, Dragan just below him and Aleksander a few names under that. Suddenly, I had an idea!

  “What about tracking their phones?” I suddenly asked excitedly. “We have their names. Do your hacking magic and find out what cell phone companies they’re with, and then track them with the GPS,” I said to Violet, who shook her head sadly.

  “I do like the idea, especially since I thought of it around six hours ago. I have the numbers for all the men of the phones registered in their names, but they have all been turned off; none of them are leaving a signal.”

  My shoulders slumped. I had been so excited for a minute that maybe we could solve this whole case that way. Still, there was absolutely no way I was going to give up now.

  “Come,” Violet said as she got up and made her way to the kitchen at the back of the house. “I have not eaten anything since last night, my brain requires sustenance in order to function at its peak, and I would be willing to bet that you have not eaten anything remotely healthy in longer than that. The change in setting may prove to stimulate the brain as well.”

  “Hey,” I said, frowning. “I do too eat healthy.”

  “What was the last thing you ate?”

  “I had pizza with Jake for lunch after his presentation. Pizza that had meat and vegetables on it.”

  Violet rolled her eyes. “And before that?”

  “Ummm,” I said, thinking back. “The pizza we ate at that hole in the wall.”

  “Yes, it is evident from your answers that your eating habits are the pinnacle of health.”

  “The food pyramid is shaped like a pizza, so it counts as healthy.”

  “The smoothie I am going to make you does not only count as healthy, it actually will be healthy,” Violet said, grabbing spinach out of the fridge.

  “I don’t want vegetables in my smoothie,” I whined, realizing a little bit too late just how much like a two year old I really sounded. Violet raised an eyebrow. “Please,” I added lamely.

  “Fine,” she said. “I will make you a mixed berry smoothie.” She reached into the fridge and pulled out punnets of blackberries, strawberries, raspberries and blueberries.

  “Are you seriously going to eat all of that before it goes bad?” I asked. I knew fruit was in season, with it being summer and all, but that still seemed excessive.

  “Yes, because I am an adult, and unlike you I eat like one,” Violet told me, piling an individual blender cup full of berries, then adding flax seeds, a thick yogurt called Skyr—“it comes from Iceland, it is like regular yogurt, only thicker”—and almond milk, and blending it all together. Violet poured the smoothie in a glass and handed it to me, and I took a sip. It was delicious, but I wasn’t about to go and admit that straight away.

  “That’s all right,” I said, and Violet nodded.

  “Good. Eat all of it. You will feel better afterwards.” I watched as she piled her smoothie full of spinach, kiwi fruit and mango, added the Skyr, flax seeds and almond milk, then blended it into a smooth mixture.

  “You see? You have eaten vitamins, and you are not dead,” Violet said, motioning to my half-empty smoothie a minute later, and I stuck my tongue out at her. We moved to the breakfast bar and I sat on one of the antique-style stools next to Violet. Her whole home had a rustic feel to it; the kind of place that made you feel like there were hidden secrets.

  And knowing Violet, there were definitely hidden secrets in this home. There just had to be.

  “What I do not like about this case is the number of questions we still have unanswered,” Violet said, staring into her smoothie like it was a crystal ball with all the answers.

  “Like how the Serbians found out Artie Ingram, or Ed Harding, or whatever we want to call him, had the Ebola vials in the first place,” I replied.

  “Exactement,” Violet replied, nodding. “We have moved forward in the case, but we have left so many blanks along the way. Who did the Serbians steal the vials for? Why did their purchaser not steal them themselves?”

  “Aren’t there hidden terrorists, members of ISIS, living in the UK?” I asked Violet.

  “Yes, but they are generally not the types of people who can afford to spend ten million pounds on something. And I cannot picture them using Christians as allies. Something here does not make sense.”

  “It’s almost like someone is paying them to commit a terrorist attack so they can make money off it, but that’s stupid. No one makes money off a terrorist attack.”

  Violet suddenly looked at me, her eyes flashing.

  “Oh, but that is where you are wrong. Cassie, you are a génie!” She jumped up off the stool and began pacing the room. “We have been looking at this all wrong. This whole time, we have been assuming that someone wants to commit the attacks for ideological reasons, but what if that is not the case? What if it is, as you say, for money?”

  “But how would someone make money off a terrorist attack?”

  “Think, Cassie. What happens when there is an attack on a country? What do people do?”

  I began to think back to the terrorist attacks I knew the most about–9/11 obviously. There were the attacks in Paris a while back. There were the bombings here in London about ten years ago. “People get scared, they stop traveling,” I said slowly.

  “Oui,” Violet said. “So what does that do to companies?”

  “Well, travel company stocks would drop. Maybe oil as well, if people aren’t traveling as much.”

  “And insurance,” Violet added. “The drops are not necessarily long-lasting, but they are there.”

  “So if someone knew a terrorist attack was going to happen, they could play the market?”

  “Exactly. The easiest way to do it is to ‘short’ a stock–essentially betting that a certain company’s stock price will drop. If it does, you make money. If it rises, you lose money.”

  “Does this mean that job interview Ingram went to…” I said, my voice trailing off as I remembered the options trader we interviewed a few days ago.

  “Yes,” Violet nodded. “How was I such an idiot? It was so obvious, it was right in front of me. Come. We go to the City.”

  My heart pounded in my chest as we practically sprinted out the door, the smoothies forgotten. We were going to find out what the Serbians planned to do with the Ebola vials.

  Chapter 20

  Violet texted DCI Williams as we sped down toward the offices where Anthony Roman worked.

  “I have been such an imbécile,” Violet muttered to herself. “The answer was right there. I should have seen it earlier.”

  “Well, as long as we still get to the vials in time, no harm no foul,” I said to Violet, trying to make her feel better, but she just shook her head.

  “No. No, it is not only about the vials. It is about my methods. I made a mistake. I do not make mistakes.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “I am not everyone,” Violet sniffed. “But no matter. For now, we go and we do what we can to get the information we can on where the vials are now.”

  The cabbie pulled up in front of the office building. Violet threw him a fifty-pound note and we sprinted out of the cab and into the building. This time, Violet didn’t bother with the receptionis
t, the two of us walking briskly past her as she protested behind us.

  “Hey! You can’t go in there!”

  Ignoring her, Violet and I strode down the hallway and straight into Anthony Roman’ office. He was on the phone, and this time, when he looked up and saw us, he was visibly annoyed. Ignoring us, he typed on his computer at a rapid pace, while still talking to whoever was on the other end of the line.

  “Come back after the market is closed,” he begged, still typing away frantically. Violet walked calmly over to the wall where a large powerboard–one of the ones with a thousand different switches and surge protectors–was plugged into the wall. She grabbed the cord in the power outlet and pulled it out. Immediately the hum from the computers and monitors in the room all dulled.

  “What the hell?” Anthony Roman cried out, his phone call forgotten. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “We need to talk to you, and your attention was sadly focused elsewhere. Please, sit.”

  “I’m not going to sit. You can’t come into my office and do this,” Roman said, moving to the wall and plugging his cords back in. “I’ll have your badge.”

  Violet smiled. “It will be difficult to do from prison.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? You can’t come in here and threaten me with jail time.”

  “I can when you are willing to pay a Serbian gang ten million pounds to release Ebola virus on London so that you can capitalize on the immediate market drop in the aftermath.”

  Roman stopped suddenly at Violet’s words. Evidently they had the intended effect.

  “What?” he finally managed to stammer out, moving back to his chair and practically collapsing in it.

  “The game is up,” Violet told him. “I know everything.”

  “There’s nothing to know. I’m not involved in any of this.”

  “The police are waiting downstairs to arrest you. I am here simply as a courtesy. I know that you are the one behind all of this.”