‘He died in childhood.’ The possibilities rushed into Sean’s mind.
‘What year was Korsakov born?’
‘Nineteen seventy-one,’ came the answer.
‘When did Hellier die?’
‘Interesting,’ the clerk said. ‘Also nineteen-seventy-one.’
It had to be. Somehow Sean knew it. It had to be. ‘Thank you,’ he managed to say. ‘I’ll have someone collect them.’ He hung up and turned to Donnelly. ‘Remember the suspect Sally was working on?’
‘The one from Method Index?’ Donnelly asked.
‘Yes, Stefan Korsakov. Do you know where she kept the inquiry file?’
‘In her desk, I presume.’
Sean moved quickly across the office to Sally’s desk. Donnelly followed, intrigued. Sean tugged at the locked drawers. ‘Have you got a skeleton key for these damn things?’ Most good detective sergeants did, although they would rarely admit it. Donnelly didn’t look too happy about it, but produced the key anyway. Sean hurriedly unlocked the top drawer. A brown file with the name ‘Korsakov’ written across the front lay inside. He flicked it open and began to read.
‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on?’ Donnelly asked.
‘Did Sally discuss this inquiry with you?’
‘Not really.’
‘Anything at all?’ Sean persisted.
‘Only thing she told me was that someone was lying to her.’
‘When did she tell you that?’
‘I think it was Thursday.’
Sean continued to search through the file, forwards and backwards, almost oblivious to Donnelly’s presence. Finally he looked up. ‘Bastard has been getting help.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Sally told me his fingerprints had gone missing from the Yard. His photograph from his intelligence file. She told you she was being lied to – but who by?’
‘Guv’nor,’ Donnelly kept his voice down, ‘what are you talking about?’
‘Don’t you understand?’ Sean asked unfairly. ‘Hellier is Korsakov, the man Sally identified through Method Index as being a possible suspect for our murder. Stefan Korsakov is Hellier, but everything she needed to make that connection disappeared. In spite of that, she was getting closer, closer to finding out the truth, even if she didn’t know it herself.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Donnelly pleaded. ‘Hellier is Stefan Korsakov?’
‘I’d bet my fucking life on it,’ Sean answered. ‘When Korsakov got out of prison he needed to reinvent himself or he was finished in this country. He’d have to take his money and run. That’s not his style. All it took was a new identity and someone in the police to make his past as good as disappear. The new identity is easy enough. He goes to a graveyard and picks someone who was born in the same year as he was, but who died in childhood, the younger the better. Less history.’
‘And he gets a bent copper to make his photos and fingerprints disappear,’ Donnelly finished for him. ‘That’s why Hellier attacked Sally, because she was getting too close to finding out his secret.’
‘Hellier wouldn’t be the only one that would want to stop Sally. Whoever was helping him had as much to lose as Hellier.’
‘Our bent police friend,’ Donnelly surmised.
‘It has to be a possibility,’ Sean admitted.
‘Then perhaps the attack on Sally isn’t connected to the other attacks?’
‘It is,’ Sean assured him. ‘They’re all connected somehow. We just need to complete the circle of events. Once we do that, we’ll know how this all fits in.’
‘Where do we start?’
‘We find this bent copper.’
‘How?’
Sean scanned the file. He found what he was looking for: the name of the original officer in the case. Detective Sergeant Paul Jarratt. ‘I know that name.’
‘Come again?’ Donnelly asked.
‘Paul Jarratt, the original investigating officer, I know that name.’
‘Maybe you used to work with him?’
‘No,’ Sean muttered. ‘Something recent. Something I’ve seen.’
Sean studied the man who opened the door of the neat Surbiton home. He and Donnelly showed their warrant cards and introduced themselves. Jarratt seemed nervous, but composed.
‘I believe you know a colleague of mine,’ Sean said. ‘DS Sally Jones?’
‘Yes,’ Jarratt answered. ‘She called around here a couple of times, asking about an old case of mine.’
‘I know,’ Sean told him. ‘Unfortunately I have some bad news concerning DS Jones.’
‘Bad news?’
‘I’m afraid she was attacked and seriously injured last night. She’s stable, but critical. I thought as you’d been helping her you should know.’
‘Yes,’ Jarratt stuttered. ‘Thank you. Thank you for thinking of me. Can I ask how it happened?’
‘You can,’ Donnelly said, nodding his head towards the inside.
‘Yes, of course,’ Jarratt answered. ‘Please, come in.’ He led them to the kitchen and sat. Sean and Donnelly remained standing.
‘I don’t know a lot of details,’ Sean explained. ‘We know she was attacked with a knife in her own flat and received two serious injuries. She managed to escape and make it to her neighbour’s. She’s lucky to be alive.’
‘My God,’ Jarratt said. ‘Who would attack a copper in her own home?’
‘Maybe you can help us with that?’ Sean asked. Jarratt’s jaw dropped slightly. Sean noticed it.
‘Of course,’ Jarratt answered. ‘I’ll help in any way I can, only I’m not sure how.’
‘DS Jones was trying to trace a suspect – Stefan Korsakov, a man you’d had dealings with some years ago.’
‘Yes.’
‘Only she was having trouble locating his fingerprints.’
‘Yes, I remember her mentioning it.’
‘Her inquiries led her to discover that you had requested the fingerprints be removed from Fingerprints Branch. Apparently Wandsworth Prison needed them to make copies for their records.’
‘Yes, I told DS Jones all this.’
‘And you’re positive the prison requested them?’ Sean asked.
‘Yes. My colleague at the time, Graham Wright, collected the prints for me and returned them. Perhaps he could help you.’
‘Do you know a man called James Hellier?’ Sean asked without warning.
Jarratt was silent for a while. He appeared to be struggling to recall the name. ‘No, I don’t think I know anyone by that name.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘It’s not a name that means anything to me,’ Jarratt answered.
Sean pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. ‘Will you do me a favour?’ he asked. ‘Take a look at these photographs. Tell me if you recognize the man in them.’ Sean emptied the surveillance photographs of Hellier on to the table in front of Jarratt.