Contents
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
An Exclusive Chapter from Good Friday
Copyright
To my many loyal readers. Your support through e-mail and social media has been a constant encouragement to me, and makes all the hard work worthwhile.
For WPC Jane Tennison the months following the bank explosion, which caused the tragic deaths of DCI Len Bradfield and WPC Kathleen Morgan, were a difficult and painfully sad time. The truth was the incident deeply affected everyone in the Met, but most notably at Hackney Police Station, where many officers found their colleagues’ deaths hard to deal with and all too raw to discuss. The imposing four-storey redbrick-and-whitestone building had numerous stone-flagged corridors and winding staircases. The cells were located in the cold and dingy basement, and there were small cramped offices on the ground and first floors. The whole place needed redecorating and the station was long overdue for a refurbishment. But no changes had been made since the abortive bank raid involving the death of two loved and respected officers. It wasn’t as if it had never happened or would ever be forgotten; it was just rarely, if ever, spoken about. However, the likes of Sergeant Harris ensured the daily routine and hard graft continued, and a new DCI gave the detectives a strength and determination to continue working at the station.
DS Spencer Gibbs was placed on sick leave to recover from the burn injuries to his hands. Several detectives had tried to get in contact with him, even leaving messages at his home address, but to no avail. It seemed he didn’t waint any vistors and it soon became common knowledge, through the new DCI, that DS Gibbs had asked for a transfer to another station. Sadly, the whole incident left the young DC Mike Hudson, who was also injured in the explosion, too traumatized to return to work, and after attending the funerals of his colleagues he handed in his warrant card and resigned from the Met.
Despite her emotional and professional involvement in the devastating events, Jane was now even more determined to complete her probation and be confirmed as a fully-fledged police constable. As the weeks and months passed, she made admirable progress, not only in the classroom at her continuation training exams, but also on the streets where she made a number of good arrests. By anyone’s standards, it was an impressive array of both male and female suspects, for various offences such as shoplifting, criminal damage, drunk and disorderly and handling stolen goods. Most notably there were two occasions, after a call over the radio, when Jane was first on the scene and had caught the burglars red-handed.
It was towards the end of her probation, in the last week of August 1974, when Jane spent a week on compulsory attachment with the Traffic Division. Although it was a great adrenalin rush racing around London at high speed with blue lights and sirens, to a variety of personal injury and vehicle accidents, being a Traffic officer was not a future she had any desire to pursue in the Met. She was crossing off the days in her pocket diary, longing for Monday, 9th September, which marked her final two weeks of probation and a plainclothes attachment to Hackney CID.
Jane had already contemplated directly approaching DCS Metcalf who, shortly after the bank explosion, had given her his word that if she continued performing well as a probationer he would give her a ‘personal recommendation’ should she desire to become a detective. His promise had been made well over a year ago now, and although she had seen Metcalf numerous times at the station, he had never raised the subject. Jane decided that it would be best to show a keen interest during her CID attachment and perform well, then she would be in a better position to approach him.
On Wednesday, 4th September, Jane was on the 2 p.m. late shift parade as Sergeant Harris inspected and posted the C Relief uniform officers to their beats and panda car duties for the shift. As Jane was about to be given her posting Detective Inspector Nicholas Moran entered the room and, as was the norm, everyone stood to attention for a senior officer. Harris had a look of disapproval on his face as he didn’t like his parades interrupted, least of all by the CID. Moran nodded his approval at the officers’ show of respect then gestured for everyone to sit down as he turned to Harris.
‘Please finish posting your officers to their duties, Sergeant Harris, then I’d like to address them regarding some indecent assaults that have occurred on the ground in the last few weeks.’
‘I’ve finished, so you can address them now. But if you could make it brief I’d be obliged as my officers need to get out on patrol,’ Harris said, in a pompous manner.
‘Thank you,’ Moran replied with a skewed smile that conveyed his displeasure at Harris’s attitude.
DI Moran was an experienced and well-respected detective, having worked on the Clubs and Vice Unit at Scotland Yard prior to his recent promotion and transfer to Hackney CID. He was in his mid-thirties, with blond hair that was neat, tidy and collar length. He wore a dark navy blue suit and white shirt with a button-down collar, blue tie and black Cuban-heeled ankle boots that made him look taller that his actual five feet ten inches. Jane had seen him on a few previous occasions but being a probationary WPC she had not come into direct contact with him; the word around the station was that he was on the fast track and going places.
Moran told the officers that over the last few weeks a number of young women had been indecently assaulted after dark, in both the Victoria Park and London Fields areas of Hackney, and he strongly suspected the same man was responsible