To Dwell in Darkness Read Online Free PDF

picked out Nick Callery, the DCI from SO15, without an introduction. Silvery-blond hair, cut almost to a buzz. Silvery-gray suit, expensive, no tie, no overcoat. He was trim and moved lightly on his feet, like a boxer. As he saw Kincaid, he broke off his conversation with another officer and came towards him, hand out.
    â€œCallery. Counter Terrorism.”
    Kincaid introduced himself and Sidana, then said, “What’s the situation?”
    â€œFar as we can tell, one nutter burned himself to a crisp. White phosphorus, according to the fire brigade. Nothing else suspicious in the station so far, but we’re still clearing.” Callery had a trace of a northern accent.
    â€œOther injuries?” Kincaid asked.
    â€œQuite a few. The medics are doing triage now.”
    â€œAny ID on the victim?”
    â€œHa.” Callery shook his head. “Not bloody likely. You’ll see for yourself. I’ll take you—he’s up by the Marks and Sparks.”
    Kincaid felt a clutch of dread. That was where the station set up the temporary concert stage. “Was there a band playing? A duo?” Jasmine Sidana gave him a puzzled look.
    Frowning, Callery said, “I saw some equipment. Nothing looked damaged. Can’t say about any musicians. They may have been evacuated.”
    Kincaid had not seen Andy or Poppy among those gathered outside the east entrance, but surely people had left by other exits.
    â€œLuckily, there was a DS on hand who secured the scene until we could get here,” Callery added. “The fire brigade will have hazmat gear for us.”
    â€œRight.” Kincaid nodded. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
    The main concourse looked as eerily empty as the market and ticketing area. The glass-fronted shops were lit but deserted. Here and there, a dropped coat or scarf, bits of food stall debris scattered like confetti, a spilled bag of groceries. Outside the Peyton and Byrne tea shop, a chair had been left overturned.
    â€œNo luggage left behind?” Kincaid asked Callery.
    â€œThere were a few pieces, but we’ve had the dogs go over them before we locked them in the station manager’s office. Funny how good people are at holding on to their belongings in a crisis.”
    â€œYou were remarkably quick.”
    â€œMost of that’s down to British Transport. The dogs were already on hand for the Eurostar luggage.” Callery gestured towards the upper concourse, where Kincaid could just glimpse a sleek yellow Eurostar train on the departure platform. “The station manager is already pulling her hair out,” Callery went on. “It’s not just that it’s prime time for international arrivals and departures. Any delay on the domestic lines can back up rail traffic all over the country, but we can’t reopen the station until we’ve cleared the crime scene and made certain there are no other mad buggers hiding in the woodshed. A cluster fuck.”
    Glancing at Sidana as she walked beside him, Kincaid saw her pinch her lips together in disapproval. He wondered how someone who couldn’t tolerate profanity had lasted so long in police work. Callery seemed oblivious to her discomfort.
    A uniformed British Transport Police dog handler came towards them, his springer spaniel straining at the end of its lead. The dog worked methodically, checking doorways and left or dropped objects.
    â€œSecond pass,” the dog handler told Callery, stopping for a moment. “Clear so far.”
    â€œCan the dog detect phosphorus?” Kincaid asked.
    â€œShe’s not trained on it specifically,” answered the handler. “But she is trained on fertilizer-based explosives, so I think she’d pick up something. And we want to make sure there are no other nasty surprises.” As the dog whined in impatience, the handler moved on.
    Ahead, Kincaid saw figures in protective gear, moving around a temporary screen. Then,