The Samsara Project by David Burgess (romantic books to read .TXT) 📕

more bearable for the scene-of-crime officers their main function was the preservation of evidence. Despite the tents generous size the officers working inside would all give off body heat. Exhaled air contains moisture that would quickly build up if not removed.
John could see three officers; all dressed in one piece white coveralls including a full hood to cover their head. Each officer also wore protective plastic goggles and a face mask that covered their nose and mouth. John knew the mask had a dual purpose, firstly to stop contamination of the scene and secondly to function as a deodoriser that partly, though not completely, stopped the foul smell of a decaying and rotting body from affecting the officers on scene. Emergency service trainers all knew that the smell of a dead body caused more of their trainees to retch, faint or both than the actual sight of a body itself.
John walked up to one of the constables at the perimeter tape.
”Hello Constable ….”
“MacKay, sir, Constable MacKay”
“Constable MacKay, my name is John Reynolds and I’m a reporter for the Daily Herald. Do you have a press area set up where I can find out some details as to what is going on here?”
The constable looked straight at John, eye to eye. John was not sure why but he felt uncomfortable.
“Press. No sir we do not have a press officer here just now and I’m sorry but I cannot give you any details about this operation. If you would care to wait I’m sure someone will be available for you to talk to in due course.”
“Do you know who the senior scene officer is? Just so I have a name.”
The Constable thought for a minute, “Detective Inspector Bales is the senior officer just now.”
“Just now?” said John, “Are others officers on the way?”
Constable MacKay was quiet for a moment, “Off the record?”
“Of course, strictly, I won’t say a word”
“Detective Chief Superintendent Hughes is expected. I’m not sure when but he’s expected.”
“DCS Hughes, that’s interesting, very interesting. Thank you Constable, Thank you, much appreciated and don’t worry I always keep my word, off the record means off the record.” John turned to walk away, then turned back to face the Constable. He reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. Opening the wallet he took out his business card and handed it to the police officer. “Just in case you ever need to get in- touch. You can get me on this number at anytime, day or night.”
The Constable took the card and looked at it. “Can’t promise anything.” he said
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” John said.
John was one of, if not the first reporter to arrive. A crowd was also stating to build up as people returning home from work stopped to see what was going on. The one thing that’s guaranteed to attract a big crowd is a small one. Other members of the press were arriving. TV crews were setting up their equipment, radio reporters were looking for sound bites and anyone who looked as though they may have anything to say, relevant or not, seemed to have a microphone in front of them.
If there’s one thing Joe Public likes, it’s to give an opinion thought John. Truth was that what Joe Public wanted more than anything else was their fifteen minutes of fame, and it did not matter to them how they got it. Bragging rights in work the next day increased to astronomical proportions when the individual had been interviewed the previous evening for the lead story on News at Ten. It never mattered to them, or apparently the TV reporters that they knew nothing about what had happened, the victim, the circumstances surrounding the crime or who had done it or why. Just as long as they “Would never feel safe on the streets of London anymore” or “They should bring back hanging. What do we do? Lock them up for a few years then let them out to kill again, that’s what. We should be more like Texas, no messing about there.”
Rent a mouth, gutter journalism or sensationalism had never been John’s style. He took a pride in his work, in what it could achieve. For John the pen was indeed mightier than the sword. This did not mean that he shied away from a sleazy story or exposé but for John exposing someone’s indiscretions, especially if they happened to be a national figure just for the sake of it or to fill a few column inches was journalism at its worst, a modern day version of the Roman amphitheatre, with the victim cast as the Christian, the journalist as Caesar and the reader taking on the role of the lion. In the course of his career John had discovered the sexual preferences of a number of politicians, actors and TV celebrities but their secrets were safe with him, so long as their partner or in some cases partners were of age and consented then he would leave them alone. He left that side of his profession to those whose morals were, in most cases, lower than those being exposed. John also knew that certain journalists had preferences that may be thought of as ‘odd’. People, glass houses and stones came to mind.
Inside the tent there was a strange calm, each investigator was going about their grim task with a practiced professionalism that could only be achieved by years of training and experience. As with most jobs that deal with the after effects of human beings at their worst there was an air of detachment between the investigator and the victim. Each specialist, and all were specialists in one field or another went about their job quietly, efficiently and methodically.
Untrained observers walking into a crime tent for the first time were initially surprised by the lack of noise, the lack of any hustle and bustle. No one seemed to be in any hurry. The investigators all worked in near silence, there was no small talk or “Did you see the match last night?” Communication was mainly by well rehearsed hand signals and gestures. A full crime scene sterile suit makes talking and hearing difficult for everyone concerned and a misheard order or request could be the difference between a successful conviction and an acquittal due to a legal technicality. Any conversation would wait until the investigators were outside, away from the immediate area.
John’s attention was fixed on the tent, his mind wondering what was going on inside. His concentration was broken by the sound of two loud but fairly short blasts of an air horn. John looked around as two of the uniformed officers guarding the perimeter of the crime scene walked quickly over to a large white articulated wagon that had just pulled up. They approached the driver who wound down his window to talk to one of the officers. After around thirty seconds of talking the first officer made a call on his radio, then he gestured with his arms to his colleague that the wagon would be entering the cordoned off area and to move the tape. Charades was not this officer’s strong point and the gentle arm movements became more exaggerated the more the officer became exasperated with his colleagues inability to understand what it was he was supposed to do. In the end officer number one turned to the driver, told him to stay where he was and strode over to the cordoned off area. If a picture can tell a thousand words then his face certainly could. Any farmer would have been proud to have ploughed the frown lines that were on the constable’s forehead; his eyebrows almost touched the bridge of his nose and his lips were shut tightly together. His gait was very strong and purposeful as he quickly made his way to the tape. When he arrived, still glaring at his colleague, he grasped the tape with both hands and tore it through from top to bottom. Both sides of the tape floated gently to the ground. The second officer did nothing to help the situation, his facial expression started as one of bewilderment changing to complete disbelief at his colleague’s actions. The final straw came when officer number two could no longer stifle his feelings and a wide grin broke out on his face, quickly followed by a fit of laughter. Officer number one just glared at him, turned towards the driver of the articulated wagon, pointed at him and very deliberately waved him through the broken tape. Very deliberate gestures followed so the driver was in no doubt as to where he should park. The driver gave a quick wave of thanks and drove through to park up.
The two officers just stood there looking at each other, one stony faced the other still trying to stifle his laughter. The standoff lasted around fifteen seconds after which the first officer also started to laugh. The second officer then started to make some very odd and exaggerated arm and body movements caricaturing his colleague’s actions. Officer number one just held up his hands to say, “OK I give up.” “Let’s get this tape sorted out then,” said the first officer.”
“Good idea,” said the second.
With this job done both walked back to their perimeter stations, number two still grinning and number one slowly shaking his head and reluctantly admitting to himself that it probably was quite funny after all. He did though make a promise to himself that he would get his revenge. His colleague could count on that!
The Metropolitan Police mobile crime lab came to a halt in an area specially set aside for it. Scene-of-crime investigators had already thoroughly checked the area to ensure the vehicle would not interfere with the crime scene or destroy any evidence that may have dispersed from ‘crime zero’ after the attack.
M.O.S.C.O.W., or to give it its proper title the ‘Mobile Scene of Crime Operations Wagon, was a state-of-the-art mobile crime laboratory. At thirty nine feet long and twelve feet wide it was roughly the same size as a holiday caravan in most sea side resorts. The unit contained everything that was needed for the investigators to carry out their preliminary analysis and evaluation. The lab is self contained and is able to stay on site for as long as the investigators think is necessary. It is equipped to carry out, amongst other things, DNA analysis, fingerprint and shoe comparisons, drug testing and identification, toxicology tests and firearm examination including ballistic testing. Onboard also is the latest in satellite communications covering landline, Sat phone, Internet and e-Mail facilities. Heating, air conditioning and lighting are self contained being run from on on-board generator powerful enough to supply ten average size semi-detached houses with electricity. As an added bonus ‘Mo’ also boasted a kitchen and rest area.
John knew that this was the jewel in the crown of the Mets fight against major crime and for it to turn up here indicated that this crime scene was far more than just a run of the mill murder enquiry.
At this time though ‘Mo’ was empty, all the technicians and investigators were inside the tent. A typical CSI team consisted of four people, a photographer and three field technicians. Although called technicians they are highly trained and highly qualified scientists. Others involved with the work of CSI’s include doctors, nurses, and paramedics occasionally, in certain cases, the Coroner. Crime-scene-investigators are not police officers, they are civilian staff employed by the police to find, analyse and preserve evidence at a crime scene. They can also be called as expert witnesses during a trial. For the most part they take fingerprints, analyse blood samples and carry out the vital day to day tasks that a