‘Arthur Bryant, John’s partner,’ said Bryant, unhappy with having to explain who he was. She shook his hand with noted reluctance. It didn’t help that Bryant had massaged Vicks Vapo-Rub into his neck earlier and now smelled pungent.
‘You work together at the local crime unit?’
‘The PCU handles specialist cases,’ May pointed out. ‘We deal with particular issues not covered by the local police or the CID.’ He was determined not to go into the details of their situation.
‘We could do with more community officers,’ Marianne Waters said crisply. ‘We’ve had some security issues with undesirable types hanging around the compound at night.’
‘That’s a matter of local policing policy. Technically speaking, I’m a civil servant and therefore required to be non-partisan,’ Bryant assured her, pulling a face at May that said See? I can be diplomatic.
‘Fine. Shall we walk?’ Waters led the way between the renovated buildings. Trestles had been laid through the vast steel framework of the shopping mall. It felt like walking through a three-dimensional blueprint of the new town. Waters navigated the duckboards which lay across the final few metres of mud with an ease that suggested she spent much of her time on-site. ‘We’ve had over a dozen sightings, reliable accounts posted by two or more members of our workforce, but there are supposed to have been countless others. Unfounded rumours have a habit of running around building sites. The men gossip much more than the women. We do what we can to limit the rumours.’
‘When did the sightings start?’ asked May.
‘The first verified sighting we had was about a month ago.’
‘Always the same figure, doing the same thing?’
‘That’s right, just standing there watching. He only ever appears at dusk or shortly after. Many of the witnesses are young, but they’re as superstitious as their grandfathers. They’re in a strange land, struggling with the language and customs, susceptible to their own imaginations. In their culture, a man dressed as a stag is a malevolent spirit.’
‘Have you actually lost any staff over this?’ asked May.
‘The walkouts started right after the first sighting. They’re more serious now. After all, Constantin could have been killed.’ She remembers his first name, Bryant thought. A nice touch.
‘And you have no idea what this—creature—wants.’
‘I didn’t take it seriously at first. The nearby nightclub attracts all types. I assumed the man had mental-health issues, a tendency toward exhibitionism.’
‘But now?’
‘Now I think he’s clearly trying to attract attention to something, but I’ve no idea what that might be.’ She pointed beyond the framework of the mall. Against a green and orange sky, the industrial vista was a Dante’s Inferno of steel and concrete, the guts and skeleton of a great body being constructed across the razed land. ‘All the sightings have been up there, along that ridge. Somehow he gets inside the perimeter fence.’
‘How can he do that?’ Bryant asked.
‘He only needs a pair of bolt cutters to get in. The grounds are frequently patrolled, but we’ve had trouble with some of the night security. We think he must have friends on the inside.’
Bryant’s forehead wrinkled. It didn’t make sense. Why cultivate friendships within the very workforce you were hoping to disturb? ‘When building first started here, did any of your employees leave with unresolved grievances?’
‘I imagine there were quite a few,’ Ms Waters replied, ‘but I deal with government ministers and planning advisors, not staffing issues.’
‘Then why didn’t you send your personnel officer to see us?’
‘Because yesterday morning our electricians voted to go on strike. They stay later on the site than anyone else except management, and most of the reliable eyewitness reports have come from their sector. I need to get this matter sorted out quickly. If you want a job done properly—well, you know how that goes.’
‘You say he gets inside the perimeter fence. Has he been picked up on your CCTV monitors?’
‘It’s a huge site and we only keep recorded images for two weeks. Unfortunately, unless he passes right beneath the spotlights we can’t read the images clearly. We have an IT team looking at the problem.’ She had been joined by a small, balding young man with a stressed, purposeful air. ‘I’m sorry. This is Maddox Cavendish; he’s been here since the project began, one of the original architects.’ The two spoke quietly for a moment. Cavendish broke off to study the group of labourers who had clustered around a mechanical digger.