night, to prove it here is
a bloodstained piece of her
dress. I am the same man
who did in the people in the
rest of the UK.
I want you to print this cipher
on the front page of your
paper. In this cipher is my
identity.
If you do not print this cipher
by the afternoon of Fry. 5th of
Feb, I will go on a kill ram-
Page Fry. Night I will cruise
around all weekend killing lone
people in the night then move
on to kill again, until I end
up with a dozen people over
the weekend.
At the bottom of the page is a circle with a cross through it: the mark of the Zodiac Killer.
“What does Shenton say?” Deakin asks. The editor had already sent over a scanned copy of the message, giving their DC a head start on the analysis.
“He’s confirmed the wording is almost precisely the same as notes from the Zodiac back in 1969,” Cara replies. “Two merged together, just the details relevant to our case changed.”
“And the …” The newspaper editor pauses. “The code?”
Attached to the note is another piece of paper. Across it are a number of symbols and letters. A cipher in the same style as the Zodiac Killer.
“That’s different,” Cara confirmed.
“So it could be a new code? Containing the identity of our guy?”
“Possibly.”
They all fall silent again. Cara picks up the envelope. There are double the number of stamps needed for normal postage, all stuck on sideways. The postmark is the day before Libby’s murder.
“So we’ll be publishing this tomorrow,” the editor says.
Cara sighs. She knows better than to hope they’d keep it quiet. It was too much of a scoop. “Can you just hold on to it for a day or two? You can still have the exclusive,” she adds quickly. “But please give us a chance to solve it and catch the guy. You publish the identity of the killer, and there’s a chance he’ll go to ground.”
The editor frowns. “You’ve got four days.” He points to the note. “I don’t want it on my conscience if we don’t publish this by Friday and he goes on this rampage he’s talking about. And I want confirmation on who this dress belongs to.”