Page 72 of 36 Hours

He clicked on the other file, the one that he’d neither seen nor heard himself but knew from Stacey what it contained.

He readied himself for the sight and the anger as the cleaver came down and severed the thumb.

The cries were different this time. In the first recordings, there had been fear but also the hope that his screams could affect the outcome. In this one, there was no such hope, Penn thought as he once again listened with his eyes closed.

What he hadn’t noticed the first time was that there was a two-to-three-second pause in between Hiccup’s cries.

Penn opened his eyes and watched it again.

The pause came as the cleaver was raised high in the air above the thumb. Hiccup must have been so terrified of the prospect of the blade that it had rendered him too dry to even cry out.

Penn isolated the three seconds and repeated the process he’d already used.

He listened carefully. And then he heard an unknown sound in the background.

FIFTY-SIX

3.30A.M.

‘Got it,’ Kim called out, pulling the box from around a third of the way down the bin.

She didn’t even want to think about what she’d rifled through to get it.

Thank God for the evidence gloves Bryant seemed to have in every item of clothing. It had saved her bare skin but not so much the sleeve of her leather jacket. She was sure Bryant had some wet wipes somewhere in the car.

Hearing no response from her colleague, she called out again.

‘Oi, I said I’ve got the box.’

‘Yeah, guv, I’m afraid you’ve got a bit more than that.’

His torch was illuminating a group of around fifty people and only two uniforms.

Between the two uniforms was a woman holding a set of keys.

Bryant had warned her that she’d probably activate some kind of alarm, and the two uniforms had been unable to control the massing crowd, who had moved to get a closer look.

Bryant had a look of mild amusement on his face.

‘Someone wanna let me out?’

She wasn’t going to scale the fence again when there was a perfectly good set of keys on the other side.

The woman looked to the constables for confirmation. Kim was a detective inspector, but there was no authority like a uniform.

The officer nodded, and the keyholder released her.

‘Well, thanks for coming, but I’m good now,’ she said, heading towards the car.

‘And what might you have there, Inspector?’ the male uniform asked.

‘Just something I threw away earlier that I realised?—’

Kim stopped speaking as she took a look up the road. Even more people were heading their way.

The constable followed her gaze and, slow as it was, the realisation dawned.

‘Hang on, this is something to do with that treasure hunt on the news,’ he said, looking to the box. ‘Come on then – open it.’

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