Find Them Dead

68 Friday 17 May

Shit. Meg sat in the jury box on top of an almost sleepless night of worrying about everything, on top of a large hangover. She’d swallowed paracetamols and drunk copious quantities of water during the night and again just now in the jury room. Her mind was all over the place, thinking back to the phone call last night, the threats, the knowledge that she really was being watched and listened to 24/7.

You do have a friend on the jury.

Who? This morning, as before in the jury room, opinions had been expressed. Hugo Pink, despite all they had heard yesterday, was adamant that Terence Gready was an innocent man, fitted up by the police because he was a solicitor who had made a career out of defending criminals. The former Detective Superintendent, Mike Roberts, seemed to be supporting him on that point.

One of them? She drifted fleetingly at the thought. Then she winced again as her headache cut like a cheese wire through her brain. Somehow, she was going to have to hold it together today, suffer in silence and keep focused, clocking anything she might see as a weakness in the prosecution’s unfolding evidence. But she felt utterly exhausted from lack of sleep. Yesterday she had found herself nodding off many times — she was going to have to try even harder today to stay alert.

Alison’s words came back. Courage is knowing what not to fear. She liked those words. But. A massive but. How could she know what not to fear? Was her mystery caller exaggerating about Laura? He knew where her daughter was, the photographs showed that. Then there was the zip-wire accident. He had definitely been involved in that. And what he had told her last night, relaying back to her parts of her conversation with Alison. Or Ali as he had correctly identified. Just what lengths would they go to to protect Gready? Where would this end? What price for their lives?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the prosecuting barrister standing. ‘I would now like to call my next witness, Emily Denyer, from the Sussex Police Financial Investigation Unit.’

A woman in her early thirties, with sharply styled dark hair, dressed in a smart black-and-white herringbone-patterned suit and white blouse, holding a laptop and folder of documents, took the stand, gave her name and was sworn in. Meg watched her closely. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about her worried Meg. Was it her confidence?

‘Ms Denyer, you are employed in a civilian capacity by Sussex Police, in the role of Financial Investigator — is that correct?’ Cork asked.

‘It is sir, yes,’ she said. Her voice sounded firm and assured.

‘Would I be correct in saying that since the defendant’s arrest on Saturday December 1st of last year, you have been leading the financial investigation into Terence Gready’s background?’

Denyer agreed.

‘And is it your opinion that the defendant is a so-called county lines mastermind?’ Cork asked her.

‘It is, yes.’

‘And you are going to tell us the evidence you have for this?’

‘I am.’

Cork removed his glasses once more and appeared to study them before continuing. ‘Ms Denyer, before we go into your detailed investigations into these drug dealings, I believe you have also been running a wholly separate investigation into the ownership of a classic car dealership in Sussex, LH Classics. Is that correct?’

‘That is correct.’

Cork accepted a document handed up to him by his junior, Williams, and put his glasses on to look at it, briefly, before continuing. ‘Ms Denyer, this document, an Excel spreadsheet which I’m holding, was prepared by you and your Financial Investigation Unit team?’

‘It was.’

He turned to the jury. ‘You will find this in Tab Q in your documentation.’ He paused to give them time to locate it, before turning back to the Financial Investigator.

‘The shareholdings and directors of LH Classics seem to me to be quite complicated?’ he said.

Denyer replied, ‘If I have understood the chain correctly, the shares are 100 per cent owned by a Seychelles-registered company with nominee directors, which is in turn 100 per cent owned by a Panamanian-registered company, also with nominee directors, and which is in turn wholly owned by a Liechtenstein company, also with nominee directors.’

Cork smiled. ‘That’s pretty convoluted, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Extremely,’ she replied.

He nodded, thoughtfully. ‘If I may take a step sideways for a moment, Ms Denyer. How long have you been a Financial Investigator for Sussex Police?’

‘Coming up to eleven years.’

‘Eleven years. So, it would be fair to say you are experienced in these matters, wouldn’t it?’

She smiled. ‘You could say that.’

‘And in all your experience, what would be the likely reasons for a company based in Sussex — and ostensibly trading in Sussex — to have a convoluted ownership via a sequence of overseas shell companies?’

Brown jumped up. ‘Your Honour, the witness is being asked to speculate.’

Jupp nodded. ‘I agree.’ He turned to Cork. ‘Please rephrase that question.’

‘I apologize, Your Honour,’ Cork said. ‘Ms Denyer, to your knowledge, are many Sussex businesses owned through chains of offshore shell companies with nominee directors?’

‘Not many, in my experience.’

‘But some?’

‘Yes, very definitely.’

‘Ms Denyer, are there any advantages or disadvantages to having an arrangement of shell companies and nominee directors? Perhaps you could explain both?’

‘Well, the disadvantages would be the cost and complexity of setting these up. The advantages could be in very substantial tax savings. Or in a number of other ways,’ she added.

Meg sat up with a start. She suddenly realized she had missed several minutes of what had been going on. She saw Gready looking at her — had he seen her eyes shut? Had anyone? Somehow, she had to stay awake — her daughter’s life was at stake.

‘A number of other ways?’ Cork prompted. ‘What other ways?’

‘I’ve seen this kind of set-up used for money laundering, for example. And by large-scale drug trafficking operations.’

The defence QC was on her feet again. ‘Your Honour, this is casting aspersions on my client.’

Jupp shook his head. ‘I disagree, the witness has given a straightforward answer to a question.’

The prosecutor turned back to Emily Denyer. ‘You have told us you have been running an investigation into the defendant’s finances for the past eighteen months. That I’m sure is a major time and resource commitment. Could you tell us what made Sussex Police decide to instigate this?’

‘I was briefed as part of a confidential investigation that the name LH Classics had come up during an Interpol inquiry into a major international drugs supply chain, operating from Eastern Europe and also from Colombia and Ecuador in South America.’

Emily Denyer spent some time giving her evidence, sharing the accounts and information she had accumulated against the defendant, Terence Gready. There were multiple spreadsheets she went through in detail, showing regular large transfers of money into bank accounts, a number linked to LH Classics. She had established that during the last five years there had been four separate payments of over £5 million passing through the LH Classics account. These transfers coincided with the approximate dates listed on the details of the offence. They also matched the evidence DS Alexander had given in relation to other large importations of drugs via Newhaven Port using classic cars destined for LH Classics.

At the end of this evidence, the prosecutor briefly turned to the jury, to make them feel included, then back to his witness. ‘So, in your capacity as a Financial Investigator, you drilled deeply into the complex international chain of shell companies and nominee directors of LH Classics. Did you discover, as result, who the real beneficial owner is?’

‘I did,’ she said.

‘Could you tell us that person’s name?’

She glanced almost disdainfully towards the dock and nodded. ‘It is the defendant.’ She hesitated, as if unsure whether to say what she wanted to next, but she did anyway. ‘We actually had a code name for him in the office.’

‘A code name for the defendant? Would you like to share it with the court?’

Instantly Primrose Brown was on her feet. ‘Your Honour, this is not relevant.’

‘I believe it is material, Your Honour,’ Cork responded.

Jupp smiled. ‘I’m curious. You may answer the question,’ he directed Emily Denyer.

All eyes were on her and she played to the audience with gusto and a wry smile. ‘We called him The Iceberg, because he had so very little showing above the surface.’