The Tunnel Rats Read Online Free PDF

towards them. She was in her forties with greying blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. She was wearing disposable rubber gloves and carrying a large moulded plastic briefcase.
    'Excuse me, are you the doctor?' asked Reidr 'Pathologist, actually,' she said brusquely. 'Anna Littman.'
    'Tommy Reid and Nick Wright,' said Reid. 'British Transport Police.'
    'I've already spoken to your colleagues,' she said briskly, and stepped to the side to walk past them.
    'They're not our colleagues,' snapped Wright.
    She raised her eyebrows and stared at Wright with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. 'I've known Gerry Hunter for three years,' she said. 'I can assure you he's a detective.'
    'He's with the Met, Dr Littman,' said Reid. 'We're British Transport Police.'
    'Sounds like too many cooks to me,' she said.
    'Can you tell us what we've got here?' asked Wright.
    'What we've got is a dead white male, late forties' I think, and he's been dead for several days.'
    'It's murder?' asked Reid.
    'Oh, there's no doubt about that.'
    'Murder weapon?' asked Reid.
    'A knife, I think.'
    'You think?'
    'The body's in a bit of a state. The rats have been at it. I'll know better after the post mortem. Now if you'll excuse me . . .' She brushed past Wright.
    The two men turned to watch her go. 'Nice legs,' said Reid. 'I'm off women just now,' said Wright.
    Reid sighed and turned up the collar of his raincoat. 'Why would anyone dump a body down here?'
    'What do you mean?'
    'Bound to be found eventually. If you really wanted to hide a body, you'd bury it, right?'
    They walked down the track, their feet crunching on gravel. 'No footprints,' said Reid. 'And none outside if it was two or three days ago.'
    'No drag marks either. So how did they get the body in here?'
    'Carried it, maybe.'
    'Which brings me back to my first point. Why carry it in here? Why not bury it?'
    A Scene of Crime Officer stood up and stretched. He was in his fifties with steel-grey hair and thick horn-rimmed glasses. 'Nice day for it,' he said.
    'Found anything?' asked Wright.
    'Lots of stuff. Problem is knowing what's relevant. Downandouts have been sleeping here, kids playing around, dogs, cats, rats. There's litter, used condoms, sweet wrappers, empty bottles, cigarettes. We'll bag it and tag it, but as to what's relevant and what isn't, well, your guess is as good as mine.'
    'No sign of a murder weapon?' asked Wright.
    The man snorted softly. 'No, and I haven't come across a signed confession. But if I do . . .'
    Reid and Wright walked past one of the tripod lights. A woman in white overalls was kneeling down, examining a wooden sleeper. Wright flinched at a bright flash of light. The photographer was a small, squat man in a dark suit, standing with his back to them. He took a step back, adjusted his focus and took another picture of something against the tunnel wall.
    Wright moved to the side to get a better look. 'Jesus Christ,' he whispered.
    'Yeah, practically crucified,' said the photographer laconically. 'I don't think they cut Jesus's dick off, though, did they?' He turned his camera side on and took another photograph. 'Who are you guys with?' he asked.
    'British Transport Police,' said Reid.
    'Don't think he was hit by a train,' said the photographer.
    A young man in blue overalls joined them carrying a large metal suitcase. He placed it on a sleeper and opened it to reveal a large video camera and a halogen light. 'Are you going to want the video, then?' he asked, pulling the camera out of its foam rubber packing.
    'Yeah,' said Wright, handing him a BTP business card.
    The body was naked, spreadeagled against the wall, the hands impaled on thick nails. The man's groin was a mass of blood, and strips of flesh had been ripped from his chest, arms and legs. A knife had been thrust into the chest.
    'That's not what I think it is in his mouth, is it?' asked Reid.
    Wright lean forward. Between the man's teeth was a piece of bloody flesh. Wright's stomach lurched. He screwed up his