‘And what was the suspect wearing underneath his coat, Detective Superintendent Mathers?’
‘A pink T-shirt, sir.’
‘Similar to what the park runners were wearing?’
‘No, sir.’
‘No?’
‘It wasexactlylike the T-shirts the park runners were wearing.’
‘But the Quebec callsigns were still able to see him?’
‘Yes, sir. The Botanist joined the runners as they swarmed out of Chance’s Park but he was still wearing his hat, so we didn’t lose sight of him.’
‘What happened next?’
‘There’s a large oak tree by the exit the runners were using, sir. The Botanist, who was among them by then, passed under the tree’s canopy wearing his hat and came out the other side without it. Became just another person in the sea of bobbing pink. The Quebec callsigns tried to follow the crowd but it was an impossible task, sir.’
‘Why?’
‘The organisers hadn’t sought permission to shut down Castle Way,’ Mathers replied. ‘That’s the road to Carlisle Castle. There were five hundred runners all trying to get to the reception. When Castle Way’s pavement got clogged up they used alternative routes. Almost twenty in total.’
‘You lost him?’
‘We did, sir.’
‘“We”?’
‘Ilost him, sir.’
‘And the hat?’
‘Recovered in the mop-up operation, along with the radio frequency jammer.’
‘DNA?’
‘No, sir. We think he was wearing a wig. And we know he was wearing gloves as Henning Stahl told us he was.’
‘Tell me we have enough for an E-FIT?’
‘No, sir. Stahl says he was wearing a mask.’
‘I’ve read the witness statements,’ Ratface said. ‘Why is it that no one can recall seeing a man in a mask? Doesn’t that strike you as odd?’
‘In this case? Not really, sir.’
‘Very well,’ Ratface sighed. ‘Please tell the panel what was in the envelope he passed Mr Stahl.’
‘What the hell?’ Poe said.
It was two hours after the botched operation. Specialists had examined the envelope and declared it safe to open. Henning Stahl was in an interview room being debriefed. Chance’s Park was now a crime scene.
On the off-chance the Botanist had licked the glue, Mathers opened the envelope at the opposite end to the gummed seal. She’d then upended it. A single sheet of paper fell out. On it was a series of typed letters and numbers.
Fhwfhtdnfyt70d52nfvlh8srwb347cbrkbplm64n6y8vngs b96fgsb36db.onion/
‘It’s a dark web URL,’ Bradshaw said, already unlocking her tablet. ‘You can tell because it has an onion TLD.’