Skinner's Mission

76

‘So there it is, ladies and gentlemen. Jackie and Carole Charles’ entire illegal business, since 1984 at least, all wrapped up in there. I’m sure that there are other records going back before that period. I’d guess that, wherever the money is, that’s where we’ll find them.’

As Skinner spoke, Andy Martin closed the ledger and passed it to Dave Donaldson, seated beside him.

‘But there’s nothing solid, boss,’ said the Chief Superintendent. ‘It’s all initials; there isn’t a name in it. We’ll never convict anyone with that, because it doesn’t incriminate anyone.’

Skinner grinned. ‘Oh yes it does. It incriminates Jackie Charles, right up to his nuts. We’ll prove that every entry in that book is in Carole’s handwriting. We’ll show that there are gaps in the entries which match dates when she and Jackie took their holidays, taking with them, as the variations in the balance indicate, great chunks of cash.

‘Then we’ll do him for tax evasion. A couple of million, at a rough calculation.’

As he looked around the table, from face to face, they all looked up at him as he stood by the window. Andy Martin, Dave Donaldson, Maggie Rose, Sammy Pye, Neil McIlhenney, Brian Mackie, Mario McGuire, Pamela Masters: his team, Skinner’s people.

His smile embraced them all. ‘Ladies and gentlemen of the Jury, I ask you. When Jackie gets up in the witness box and says “I never knew. My late wife obtained and disbursed all that money illegally and salted the balance away overseas, and I never knew,” which one of you is going to believe a word he says? Who could believe that a man could be so ignorant of what his own wife is doing?’

As the words left his lips, his voice tailed off, and he turned to look out of the window, so that no-one, not even Andy or Pamela, could see his face. For he knew that he was the one person in the room who could give credence to the only defence open to Jackie Charles.

He mastered himself and turned back to face them. ‘Right now, Jackie’s sat up there, in his unprotected villa in Ravelston Dykes thinking that he’s as safe as houses. Terry’s dead, and so there’s no chain to link him to McCartney, the Birmingham murders or the Jimmy Lee attack.’

He pointed to the ledger. ‘But he doesn’t know we’ve got that. He didn’t even know where it was himself, because that’s one thing Carole didn’t tell him. She didn’t tell him about the three properties she bought as Jackie Huish, maybe for added security, or maybe just because she didn’t want him to know where she and her so-called pal got up to whatever it was they got up to when Carole was supposed to be at Yoga.

‘Jackie doesn’t know that we’ve got his records, and he doesn’t know what that book can do to him.’ He paused and resumed his seat at the table, beside Martin.

‘So tonight, he can stay where he is, while Pam, Sammy and I do some more work on that ledger, and while Brian and Mario check the dates and hints in that correspondence against robberies, murders and other assorted events around Britain.

‘He can stay there until ten o’clock tomorrow morning, when you, Mr Martin, and you Mr Donaldson, with Sergeant McIlhenney’s strong arm beside you, will call at Ravelston Dykes and pick him up.’

He took the ledger from Donaldson. ‘Once we’ve got him, and he sees this, then just like Ricky McCartney, to earn himself a few years less in the pokey, I’ll bet he puts a name to every initial in this book.’

He stood up. ‘Pamela, Sammy, you come with me. The rest of you, I’ll see you all here, 9 a.m. tomorrow.’