Hidden in Plain Sight

18

The silver-grey Bentley Continental drew up outside terminal three.

Heath appeared relaxed as he got out of the car clutching firmly onto the briefcase, his only piece of luggage. He was heading towards the terminal entrance when a motorcycle skidded to a halt in the no-parking zone.

‘You go after him,’ said Paul. ‘I’ll catch up.’

‘I’ve seen that bike somewhere before,’ said William, as he took off his helmet and pointed to a black Yamaha that had been dumped in the disabled parking area. ‘But where?’

‘It passed us on the motorway,’ said Paul. ‘The rider slowed down as he drew level with the Bentley, and looked in the back window before taking off again.’

‘No, I’ve seen it somewhere else,’ mumbled William, as he set off in pursuit of Heath. Once he was inside the terminal, he quickly checked the departures board. ‘British Airways Flight 012 to Rio de Janeiro, 16.20. Gate 27’ flicked up on the display. He passed quickly through the crowded concourse, avoiding suitcases and outstretched legs as he headed towards the check-in desks, his eyes continually searching for his quarry. And then he spotted Adrian, still dressed in his smart courtroom-appearance suit, embracing a young woman at the BA counter who he assumed must be Maria Ruiz. He slipped behind a pillar, and waited for Paul to join him.

William watched as they kissed and began chatting excitedly. He only wished he could overhear their conversation.

‘How did it go?’ asked Maria.

‘Exactly as planned, except I ended up with twenty grand, not ten.’

‘Don’t you feel a little guilty about what you’ve done to your old school friend?’

‘Not if his father’s half as bright as the press claim. By this time tomorrow, if not sooner, he’ll have gone over the transcript of my testimony and seen that I’ve handed him a golden opportunity to trap Faulkner. So it’s even more important we’re well out of harm’s way long before Faulkner finds out that I double-crossed him.’

‘Our flight leaves in forty minutes,’ said Maria, checking the departure board.

‘Perfect. But it would be better if we split up, and meet again on board the plane. There might be someone looking out for us. You take this,’ he said, handing over the briefcase and her ticket.

Maria embraced him again, before reluctantly leaving to climb onto the escalator leading to departures. After waving to her, Adrian headed towards the men’s room.

William watched as Maria disappeared from view. His instructions had made no mention of her. He was simply to arrest Heath and bring him back to the Old Bailey.

‘On what charge?’ he’d asked Lamont.

‘My bet is he’ll be travelling on a false passport, and there’ll be enough evidence in that briefcase to prove his testimony was bought. Don’t be surprised if you find it’s a lot more than ten thousand.’

A few moments later a voice said, ‘Do you want me to follow her, sarge?’

‘No. We’ll arrest Heath first and then go after her. She won’t be going anywhere without him.’

They both kept their eyes on the men’s room, as they waited for Heath to reappear.

‘He’s taking his time,’ said Paul. ‘A change of clothes perhaps?’

‘No, he didn’t have anything with him when he went inside. My bet is they’ve agreed to meet up again on the plane.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘She’s got the money.’

‘Should I go and check he’s still in there?’

‘Where else could he be?’ said William, as a man they both recognized immediately came running out of the men’s room.

‘So now we know who was on the other bike,’ said Paul. ‘Which one do you want me to go after?’

‘Tulip,’ said William, remembering where he’d last seen the black Yamaha. ‘And make sure you arrest him.’

‘On what charge?’

‘I have a feeling I’m about to find out,’ said William, as he headed for the men’s room. ‘Get going!’

Paul took off after Tulip, no longer caring about stray bags or stretched-out legs, and just as William had reached the entrance to the men’s room another man came rushing out, shouting, ‘Help, somebody call the police, help!’

As William was about to go inside, a third man burst past him, struggling to do up his zip while on the move. William pushed open the door and tentatively entered the washroom. He came to a sudden halt, momentarily paralysed by what he saw in front of him. During his time on the force, he had encountered several dead bodies: old people who’d died peacefully in their homes, drug addicts with needles sticking out of their arms, even a battered wife who’d hanged herself in front of her young children. But nothing could have prepared him for this.

Sprawled across the floor was the lifeless body of Adrian Heath, surrounded by a pool of blood. Only moments before he’d been looking forward to starting a new life with his girlfriend in Rio. Adrian’s throat had been cut in one clean movement by someone who knew what he was doing, and his right eye had been gouged from its socket and left by the body as a warning to any other dealer who might even think about becoming an informer.

‘Don’t move!’ shouted a voice from behind him.

William raised his arms and said firmly, ‘I’m a police officer. I’m going to show you my warrant card.’

‘Slowly,’ said the voice.

William extracted his card from an inside pocket and held it up for the officer to see.

He heard footsteps advancing towards him, followed by the words, ‘OK, sergeant, you can turn around.’

William swung round to see an older police sergeant, trying to remain calm, accompanied by a young constable who couldn’t stop shaking. Airport police usually deal with illegal immigrants, the occasional pickpocket, sometimes a passenger who has removed a bag from the carousel that isn’t theirs. This certainly wasn’t part of their job description. William accepted he would have to take charge.

‘Listen carefully,’ he said. ‘The first thing I need you to do is cordon off the whole area. Make sure no members of the public are allowed anywhere near this washroom.’

The young constable quickly left the room, a look of relief on his face suggesting he was glad to escape.

‘Sergeant, I want you to phone Detective Superintendent Lamont at Scotland Yard. Tell him Adrian Heath has been murdered, and DC Adaja is in pursuit of the suspect, known as Tulip.’ William made him repeat the message, as another officer appeared. He turned away the moment he saw the body.

‘I need you to inform the airport’s duty officer and take control of the crime scene,’ said William to the third officer. ‘The body is not to be moved until officers from the murder squad authorize it.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said another man who was only too happy to obey orders.

William squatted on one knee next to Heath’s body and extracted a boarding card and passport from an inside pocket. The photograph was of Heath, although the name wasn’t.

‘Sorry, old friend,’ said William. ‘God knows, you didn’t deserve this.’

When William emerged from the men’s room, he found two more policemen cordoning off the crime scene, while a group of exasperated passengers were demanding to know why they couldn’t use the washroom. If he’d told them, they would have peed in their pants.

The older sergeant hurried back to join him.

‘The forensic medical examiner should be with us fairly soon. I wasn’t able to get through to Superintendent Lamont because he’s been called to give evidence at the Old Bailey. A Commander Hawksby says you’re to take over until a crime scene manager arrives.’

‘Understood. Make sure—’

‘This is the last call for BA flight 012 to Rio de Janeiro. Will all remaining passengers please make their way to gate twenty-seven, as the plane is about to depart.’

‘—that no one other than the lab liaison sergeant and the FME are allowed anywhere near the body. And one more thing—’

‘You’re leaving me in charge?’ said the officer.

‘Yes, but not for long,’ said William, as the sound of blaring sirens grew louder and louder. ‘There’s someone I have to question before her plane takes off.’ Without another word he began running towards the escalator, taking the steps two at a time.

The officer at passport control looked up in alarm at the blood-stained, breathless man who’d jumped the queue. He was about to press the panic button below the counter when William produced his warrant card, shouting, ‘Rio?’

‘The gate’s about to close, sergeant,’ he said. ‘I’ll call ahead and warn them you’re on your way. I hope you catch the bastard.’

William took off once again. Two ground staff were waiting for him by gate twenty-seven, and after a cursory check of his warrant card he was ushered down the walkway and onto the waiting aircraft, where he joined the last of the passengers looking for their seats. He checked the seat number on Adrian’s boarding pass, before making his way down the aisle searching for a woman he’d never met. He came to a halt when he saw Maria Ruiz clutching on to a briefcase, anxiously searching for a different face.

William changed his mind. He turned around, walked back along the aisle to the exit, thanked the stewardess and returned to the terminal.

BA flight 012 to Rio de Janeiro took off on time, although one of the passengers was a no-show.

‘That was the Director of Public Prosecutions,’ said Sir Julian, putting the phone down.

‘It’s not hard to guess what they’ll be recommending,’ said Grace.

‘Following Heath’s evidence this morning, they’re advising me to contact Booth Watson and try to make a deal.’

‘I know exactly what two words I’d say to that suggestion if I was BW,’ said Grace, ‘and one of them would have four letters. What sort of deal did the DPP have in mind?’

‘We agree to drop the charge of intent to supply, in exchange for Faulkner pleading guilty to possession. He’ll have to pay a heavy fine, but will only be given a two-year suspended sentence. However, typical of the DPP, they say they’ll leave the final decision to us.’

‘That’s why they’re known as the Department of Pontius Pilate,’ remarked Grace. ‘So Faulkner will get away with it yet again. If he goes on like this, he’ll be on suspended sentences for the rest of his life, and never see the inside of a prison cell.’

‘What would you do, Grace, if you were my leader on this case, and I were your junior?’

Grace was taken aback for a moment, as her father had never before sought her advice on such a major call. She thought about his question for some time, because although she was flattered, the look on his face left her in no doubt that he was waiting to hear her opinion before he came to a decision.

‘I wouldn’t let Faulkner off the hook quite that easily,’ she said. ‘He still has to explain away the twelve grams of cocaine that the police found in his home, and even if he could convince the jury that he didn’t know how it got there, he won’t find it easy to account for the twenty-pound note, which William’s convinced is the one question he won’t be able to answer.’

‘I agree with William. But we’ll still need Faulkner to give evidence before we can raise the subject of the twenty-pound note. If I was representing him, I’d advise him strongly against going anywhere near the witness box. That will leave us with the task of having to prove him guilty beyond reasonable doubt, which will be all but impossible after Heath’s evidence this morning.’

‘Then we’ll have to try and appeal to Faulkner’s vanity,’ said Grace, ‘and make it impossible for him to resist taking us on.’

‘And how do you propose to do that?’ asked Sir Julian.

‘By replacing the opening batsman,’ said Grace, as the phone on his desk began to ring.

He picked it up and listened to the caller for some time before he said, ‘Yes, I can see how that changes the situation, Desmond. Thank you for keeping me informed.’

‘What changes the situation?’ asked Grace, after he’d put the phone down.

‘Adrian Heath’s dead.’

‘The other side have made us an offer,’ said Booth Watson.

‘After Heath’s evidence this morning, that’s hardly surprising,’ said Faulkner. ‘But you may as well tell me what it is before I dismiss the offer out of hand.’

‘They’ll drop the charge of intent to supply, if you’ll plead guilty to possession.’

‘What will the damage be?’

‘A million-pound fine, and a two-year suspended sentence.’

‘That might be tempting if I didn’t think the jury is going to find me not guilty on both charges.’

‘Possibly,’ said Booth Watson, ‘but why take the risk?’

‘Because the odds are now heavily stacked in my favour, so you can tell Sir Julian Warwick QC to get lost.’

‘I’d advise against that, Miles, especially as I won’t be putting you on the stand.’

‘Why not? I’ve got nothing to hide.’

‘Except twelve grams of cocaine.’

‘Which you can tell them Lamont planted.’

‘You know that’s not going to wash, and the jury won’t fall for it either. Lamont is a long-serving police officer with an unblemished record, and in my experience, juries tend to like the plain-speaking Scotsman, which is why I don’t intend to cross-examine him.’

‘But you will after you’ve read this,’ said Faulkner, handing his silk a thick brown envelope.

Booth Watson took his time reading its contents before asking, ‘How did you get hold of this?’

‘It’s all a matter of public record,’ said Faulkner, ‘if you know where to look.’

‘Am I to understand, Sir Julian, that you wish to make a statement on behalf of the Crown?’ enquired Mr Justice Baverstock.

‘That is correct, m’lud. With your permission, the Crown will be dropping the first charge on the indictment, namely intent to supply. However, we still intend to proceed with the second charge, that of possession of a controlled substance, namely twelve grams of cocaine.’

The judge raised an eyebrow, as he had been privy to the advice the DPP had given Sir Julian to drop both charges and beat an expeditious retreat. He was surprised that such a normally cautious man would ignore such sage opinion.

‘So be it, Sir Julian. Then you may call your next witness.’

‘I call Detective Superintendent Lamont.’

The first thing William did on arriving back at the Yard later that evening, was to ask the commander if there was any news about Paul.

‘It’s not good, I’m afraid,’ said Hawksby. ‘He had a collision with another motorbike on his way back from the airport, and both of them ended up in hospital.’ William looked anxious. ‘But Paul got off pretty lightly, just a few cuts and bruises, and he should be discharged in a couple of days. Tulip unfortunately broke a leg, and won’t be leaving the hospital for some time.’ The flicker of a smile appeared on the commander’s face.

‘Has he been arrested for Heath’s murder?’

‘Yes. The murder squad took care of that, and they’ll post a guard outside his room night and day.’

‘Then I’ll complete my report, and leave it on Superintendent Lamont’s desk before I leave tonight.’

‘Good,’ said the Hawk. ‘Bruce was sorry that he couldn’t help you out, but at short notice he was asked to give evidence at Faulkner’s trial.’

‘How did he get on?’

‘Couldn’t have done better. In fact, I’d be surprised if Booth Watson bothers to cross-examine him in the morning. It will only give him yet another chance to repeat the question, if Faulkner didn’t put those drugs in the statue, who did?’

‘Did the Crown raise the subject of the twenty-pound note?’

‘No. I have a feeling they’re saving that bombshell for when Sir Julian cross-examines Faulkner.’

‘That’s assuming he gets the chance,’ said William. ‘If Faulkner doesn’t go into the witness box, my father won’t be allowed to present it as new evidence.’

‘Strange,’ said the Hawk. ‘It’s so unlike Sir Julian to take such a risk.’

‘But it’s not unlike his daughter,’ said William.

‘Then let’s hope they don’t both live to regret it.’

William unlocked the door, hoping that a quiet evening at home with his wife would help put the image of Adrian Heath’s dead body out of his mind. But when he stepped into the hall, he was greeted by a tearful, pregnant Beth, who threw her arms around him and clung on tightly.

‘Now I know what Josephine Hawksby meant when she told me the thing she most dreaded was the day when her husband didn’t come home.’

‘It wasn’t that bad,’ said William, trying to reassure her.

‘But to see your friend butchered in that way, and you helpless to do anything about it.’

‘How did you find out?’ asked William.

‘The story’s been leading the news programmes all evening, and Jackie rang to tell me you were the first officer on the scene.’

‘I was, but I’ll be fine,’ he said, hoping he sounded convincing.

‘You don’t look fine,’ said Beth, as she started to remove his blood-stained shirt, only to be reminded of another scar from an earlier encounter in his career. But she feared this one would be mental, not physical. ‘I wish you’d called me.’

‘Not that easy when you’re in the middle of a murder investigation. Lamont wasn’t available, so I was left in charge.’

‘I know. Jackie filled me in on the gory details.’ Only the details she wanted you to hear, thought William. ‘How did Adrian’s girlfriend react?’ she asked.

William didn’t reply.

‘Is this one of those occasions when I shouldn’t ask any more questions?’ said Beth.

‘Yes,’ said William quietly. ‘Not least because I’m not sure I made the right decision.’