Carnage Read Online Free PDF Page A

try to get rid of the serial number by filing or hammering it off. But forensic techniques can usually uncover traces of the engraving and reveal the precious number.
    All this helped Lamar to make one significant deduction: the man or woman who had supplied the guns to the youngsters was a real veteran of crime who’d seen it all and kept their hand in. There was no doubt they would be known to the police, probably for trafficking firearms.
    The name of this person must be buried somewhere in the police files – the person responsible for this carnage, or the person who could at least lead Lamar to whoever was responsible.
    Lamar came back onto First Avenue and passed the UN tower, heading north towards Harlem.
    He got his phone out again to call Professor Gavensoort.
    ‘Professor,’ he began, ‘it’s Lieutenant Gallineo. I wanted to ask you something. There were fingerprints onthe weapon. Did you manage to lift them off?’
    ‘Yes, Lieutenant. Nothing out of the ordinary there; in both cases the fingerprints were those of the gunman. Which you’d know already if you’d looked at my report.’
    ‘Thank you. Just wanted to check.’
    He hung up abruptly to spare himself further comment from the professor.
    They had nothing to go on.
    Three killers who’d killed themselves.
    And a link between them: their weapons.
    Lamar gripped the steering wheel.
    They had to act quickly – he knew it.
    They had to find a lead and work out what was really going on in the background, behind these child assassins.
    Because Lamar was willing to bet things were not at all as they seemed.
    A dark secret hovered in the shadows.

5
    East Harlem Academy had reopened its doors, the yard and lino floors of the crime scene once again trampled under its students’ feet. Walking towards the entrance during the lunch break, Lamar was surprised to see smiles and laughter on these young faces. In adolescence, every day is a new dawn, not connected to what’s gone before. It occurred to Lamar that in adulthood we look back over our lives as a timeline punctuated with big events, whereas in childhood time is grasped in fragments, compartmentalised. It was making this transition that brought you to the age of reason.
    Lamar veered off to the right in the hallway, towards the janitor’s room. A tall, gruff man in his forties, the janitor’s hair was cut so short he looked bald from a distance. Lamar had noticed this the first time he’d seen him, barely three weeks earlier. The janitor stood up so straight you’d think he’d just come out of the army.
    ‘Hello …’
    Lamar wagged his finger and screwed up his eyes while trying to remember his name.
    ‘Quincey. Frank Quincey. What can I do for you, Detective?’
    ‘Do you know the kids pretty well? You’re here all the time …’
    Quincey pulled a face.
    ‘Well, I guess I end up knowing more or less which one’s which. Why d’you ask?’
    ‘Russell Rod, the gunman. Know which one he was?’
    ‘Oh, him, yeah. Seemed nice enough. You know, they’re not bad kids here. Lots of ’em come to see me when they’re bored during recess. Don’t tell Principal McLogan, but every now and again they ask me for a cigarette. I try not to give them any, but when they’re really polite it’s hard to say no.’
    ‘How d’you mean, “really polite”?’
    ‘Oh, you know, they take time to chat, say hi when they walk past. A lot of people just see the janitor as the guy in the blue coat who keeps the building nice, like some kind of ghost. But some of them are really good kids. They even get me chocolates at Christmas!’
    ‘And what about Russell?’
    ‘Well, he kept himself to himself. Didn’t pick fights. Always wore heavy-metal-band T-shirts, with camouflage pants. Tell the truth, I don’t really know what he got up to– he wasn’t the type to hang out in groups, preferred being on his own. But he never gave me any trouble. No scuffles, no graffiti, none of that stuff.’
    Lamar