The interview room was cold, as always. The sound of the air-conditioning unit whirled in the background. Stanford sat next to Henley, wordlessly opening three blank CDs and placing them in the recorder. Bajarami sat opposite Henley, practically squeezing herself into the corner as though she was trying to make herself disappear. She looked pale and on the verge of passing out.
‘Before we start, is it all right if I call you Karen?’ Henley finished entering the interview details on the monitor.
‘It’s fine,’ Karen replied.
‘The FME said that you’re fit to be interviewed. I just want to check if you want anything. Water, another cup of tea—’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Good.’ Henley pressed record. ‘Right, we’ll start. I’m Detective Inspector Anjelica Henley and also present is—’
‘Detective Sergeant Paul Stanford.’
‘We’re in interview room three at Lewisham police station. This interview is being audio- and video-recorded. We’re interviewing today – could you please confirm your name for the record,’ said Henley. Karen Bajarami looked across at her solicitor, who nodded.
‘Karen Irina Bajarami,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ said Henley. ‘Also present is your solicitor—’
‘Morgan Tyler from Tyler Lawson solicitors, and I’m informing you now that my client will be answering “no comment” to all questions that are put to her.’
Henley completed the rest of the introductions and cautions without taking her eyes off Bajarami. ‘Karen, you’ve been arrested for conveying a prohibited article into prison, namely a mobile phone, assisting a prisoner, Peter Olivier, to escape, obstructing the course of justice, preventing the lawful burial of a body and conspiracy to commit murder. We’ve already disclosed this information to your solicitor, and you know that we have evidence that you provided a mobile phone to Olivier and also bought the phone credits. What would you like to say about that?’
Henley and Stanford were prepared for Bajarami to answer ‘no comment’ to all their questions for the next hour.
‘It’s not what you think,’ Karen said.
Stanford tapped Henley’s foot under the table.
‘Karen, I’m going to remind you of the legal advice that I gave you in consultation,’ Tyler said, writing something in her notebook.
‘Sorry, sorry. No comment,’ Karen said.
‘As you can see, the mobile provider has confirmed that the phone account was set up using a debit card registered to you. Then you topped up the account on three subsequent occasions.’
‘No comment.’
Henley was already getting tired of the no comments. ‘You weren’t the only woman that Olivier was in contact with,’ she said suddenly.
Karen looked back at her with shock. Henley knew then that Olivier was her trigger.
‘What are you talking about?’ Karen asked.
‘I’m reminding you again of the legal advice I gave you in consultation and that was to answer “no comment” to all questions put to you,’ Tyler said again, but Henley could hear the resignation in her voice – things were not going to go as she had advised.
‘You and Olivier were in a relationship, weren’t you?’ asked Henley.
‘Yes, we were,’ replied Karen.
‘Even though this was a complete breach of your duties as a prison officer?’
Tyler looked as though she was going to interrupt again but Bajarami went on before she could say anything.
‘You don’t understand. He was different with me. He wasn’t the man they described.’
‘He killed seven people before he came to Belmarsh.’
‘It was a miscarriage of justice. Mistakes were made.’
Henley had to give a Stanford a kick under the table to stop him from laughing.
‘You’ve been a prison officer for eight years. Has anything like this happened before?’ Henley continued.
‘No, of course not. I’m good at my job and he saw that. He treated me with respect, not like some of those other prisoners.’
‘When did it start? The relationship.’
‘About eighteen months ago, and it wasn’t what you think. He just wanted someone to talk to. He was sweet and gentle. Not a monster. He said that I understood him.’
This time it was Tyler’s turn to suppress her surprise with a cough as she caught Henley’s eye.
‘He understood you?’
‘Yes, he did. He’s intelligent and good-humoured.’
‘Whose idea was it to get the phone?’
‘Mine.’
‘Yours?’ Henley needed her to reconfirm this for the recording.
‘Yes. It was hard. Seeing him every day, not being able to talk to him properly. I mean, I have a job to do, but I just wanted to talk to him all the time.’
‘How often did you talk to him?’
‘Every other night.’
‘Did you send him videos?’
‘No. His phone was basic. I couldn’t do that.’
‘Did you show him videos?’
‘Yes. On my phone.’
‘Did you film me, outside my house, opening a box that contained the head of Elliot Cheung?’
Karen paused as she looked across at her solicitor.
‘I don’t want to answer that,’ she said.
‘I’m sure that your solicitor has told you that a police interview isn’t like selecting sweets at a pick ’n’ mix. It’s not going to look good on you that you’re choosing to answer some questions and be quiet on others.’
‘I’ll thank you not to comment on the advice that Ms Bajarami has been given in consultation. Either ask her a question or end the interview,’ Tyler said.
‘DS Stanford is going to show you footage from the security cameras that were installed in the reception area of the Franklin-Jones Cold Storage Facility in Manor Park,’ said Henley.
Stanford pressed play on the laptop and swung it towards Karen. She watched the footage, her face expressionless.
‘Is that you walking out with Elliot Cheung’s head in a box?’ Stanford asked.
Karen put her hands to her forehead, visibly distressed.
‘Is that you in the video?’ Stanford repeated. ‘It’s not a difficult question.’ Stanford’s tone indicated firmly that there was only one acceptable answer.
‘Yes,’ Karen said quietly. ‘Yes.’
‘Were you outside Detective Inspector Henley’s house when Elliot Cheung’s head was left on her doorstep?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Did Olivier give you instructions to remain outside the Inspector’s home and to film her?’
Karen’s voice was barely a whisper. Her face still hidden behind her hands. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘You need to speak up,’ said Henley.
‘I said, yes,’ Karen shouted. ‘He wanted to see everything. He wanted to see you.’
Henley watched as Karen struggled to keep hold of the dark, poisonous feelings of jealousy that were boiling inside of her.
‘Did you know that he was calling other women?’ Henley asked, pulling out a photograph of Lauren Varma.
‘Who’s that?’ Karen said, pointing to the photograph.
‘That’s the woman who also thought that she was in a relationship with Olivier.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘And once he escaped, after he tried to kill you, he went straight to her.’
‘No. That’s not true. He loved me.’
‘You knew about Lauren Varma, didn’t you?’
‘I have no idea who she is.’
‘That’s not true, is it? You and Lauren met online. You were both members of a support group for women who are in relationships with prisoners.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘And you both realised that you had something in common. You were both in love with Peter Olivier and she later told you that she was in a relationship with Olivier.’
‘No, no.’ Karen shook her head.
‘You were jealous and that angered you. You thought you were the only one.’
‘How could I be jealous? I didn’t know anything about her. This is all rubbish.’
‘Right.’ Henley produced two exhibit bags filled with letters. ‘This is exhibit RE/3. Letters from Lauren Varma to Peter Olivier and exhibit SR/4. Letters from Peter Olivier to Lauren Varma. Your fingerprints are on all these letters.’
Karen’s face turned pale.
‘Love letters,’ said Henley.
‘She was obsessed,’ Karen said quietly.
‘You’re going to have to speak up for the mic.’
Karen shook her head vigorously. ‘Nothing. I didn’t say anything. No comment.’
‘Karen, part of your job as a prison officer is to check all of the outgoing and incoming letters, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you checked all of Olivier’s mail. Your prints are all over these exhibits.’
Karen didn’t reply.
‘Do you know what I’m thinking, Karen?’ Henley took a sip of water. ‘I think that there was another woman vying for Olivier’s attention and you didn’t like it. You read the letters and that made you angry. It was fine when it was just Lauren Varma talking to you online about her feelings for Olivier, but when you found out that she had been writing to him and that he had been writing back—’
‘Stop it. Stop it. You have no idea.’
‘You were checking his letters and you read what he had said to Lauren in those letters. Stanford?’
Stanford cleared his throat and began to read. ‘“I touch myself when I’m looking at your picture. I’ve imagined your sweet mouth around my…” He’s very explicit. “There is no other woman that can make me feel the way you do.” Ouch, that must have hurt. Finding out that you were no more than a – what do they call it on the streets, Inspector?’
‘Side chick,’ said Henley. Tyler turned her head and pursed her lips.
‘That’s it. A side chick. That would hurt. A lot,’ said Stanford, placing the letter back on the table.
‘You told Olivier to get rid of her,’ said Henley. ‘Karen, we have copies of the text messages that you sent to Olivier three days before he escaped.’
‘“If you truly love me then you will get rid.”’ Stanford read from the print-out in front of him. ‘“You said that I was the only one. I want L gone.” And he did what he was told.’
Karen put a hand to her mouth, but Henley had already seen it. A smile.
‘And because you helped him to escape, Lauren Varma is now lying in six pieces in Greenwich Mortuary,’ said Stanford.
Karen dropped her hand. ‘What are you talking about?’ she asked.
‘You provided him with insulin which put him into hypoglycaemic shock and gave him the symptoms of a heart attack,’ continued Henley. ‘Once he was in hospital, you made sure that you would be with him and then you helped him escape.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘The only thing you didn’t plan for was that Olivier would kill Ade.’
‘He didn’t kill him.’ Karen began to cry. ‘It was an accident.’
‘He slammed Ade’s head so hard against the floor that he fractured his skull and he stabbed you in the eye with a fork. Somehow, I seriously doubt that losing your eye was part of the plan.’
‘No, no, that was… He loves me.’
‘Karen, you’ve lost your eye. Is that love?’ Henley leaned across the table. ‘What was the plan? For you to leave your job and run off into the sunset with him? Start a new life together?’
Karen didn’t answer, sniffing noisily instead.
‘We searched your flat and we found the tickets to Malaga. Money and a bag filled with men’s clothes. Passports. One of those passports is fake. That’s another charge, on top of conspiracy to commit murder.’
‘Would you like a break? Another consultation?’ Tyler asked. She pulled out a packet of tissues from her bag and handed it to Karen.
‘No, no, I’m OK,’ Karen answered.
‘He’s killed another woman. She wrote to him and he wrote back. He seduced her, slept with her and then he butchered her,’ said Henley.
‘He wouldn’t do that. He promised me that he…’
‘What did he promise you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
Karen laughed. ‘You would say that. He used to talk about you a lot. Said that you were responsible for ruining his life. He was obsessed with you.’
‘Where is he, Karen?’
‘When you came to see him at the prison his face… lit up. The way that he looked at you. He never looked at me that way. He wanted to get you back. You and that other officer who put him in that hell hole. Ruined his life.’
Stanford and Henley exchanged a look.
‘What other officer?’ Stanford asked.
‘Your boss. The one who was sitting with you at the press conference.’
Henley’s heart dropped to her stomach. Stephen.
‘How would he get him back?’ Henley asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
‘I don’t know. I didn’t really pay attention.’
‘Karen, you’re in love with him. You listen to every single word that he says. You’ve risked your life for him—’
‘Inspector, I suggest that you ask Ms Bajarami a question instead of making grandiose speeches,’ said Tyler, sitting up straighter.
‘What did Olivier say to you?’
‘That he wanted to get him back. That he wanted to make you pay. To scare him a bit. I told him that it wouldn’t work, but Peter said that he was just as guilty as you were. That you were responsible for the bodies on the street. Not him.’
Stanford whispered into Henley’s ear.
‘For the benefit of the tape, DS Stanford is leaving the interview room at 21:28 hours.’
‘Where is Peter Olivier?’
‘I don’t know,’ Karen replied stubbornly.
‘Karen, I know that he visited you while you were in hospital. A witness positively identified him on the street where you live. You’ve been in contact with him. Where is he?’
‘No comment.’
‘Karen, the longer that Olivier is out on the street the more chance there is of someone else being murdered. You’ve already got the deaths of two innocent people on your hands. Do you really want another?’
‘That’s not what—’
‘Where is he?’
‘I can’t tell you,’ Karen cried out. ‘He made me promise.’
‘I’m going to ask you again. Where is Peter Olivier?’
Karen started crying.
‘I can’t,’ she wept.
‘Karen. Please. Where is Olivier?’
‘What if he finds out that I told you? He killed Lauren… What if—’
‘Where is he?’
Karen heaved as though she’d been punched in the stomach. ‘Convoys Wharf. In Deptford,’ she said.
Henley knew Convoys Wharf. She had grown up a stone’s throw away from the forty-acre industrial estate. It had been a bustling hub for air freight and transporter lorries. Searching for Olivier among the countless disused warehouses would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
‘Where in Convoys Wharf?’ Henley asked.
Karen bent her head and whispered softly. ‘No. I can’t.’
‘What do you mean that you can’t? You need to tell me where he is, Karen.’
Karen kept her head bowed and remained silent as she twisted the edge of her T-shirt.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Henley said, not caring that it would be picked up by the microphones and would soon be scrutinised by lawyers and judges as they read the transcript. ‘You do realise what you’re doing, right? You’re protecting a murderer. A man who will kill you in an instant and have no regrets about doing so. Have you been there?’
‘No comment,’ Karen replied.
‘Convoys Wharf is a very big place. Did you arrange to meet Olivier somewhere specific after he escaped from the hospital?’
It was subtle, but Karen nodded.
‘For the benefit of the tape, Karen Bajarami is nodding her head. Does that mean yes, Karen?’
‘Yes, it does. But I’m not going to tell you where. I can’t answer any more of your questions. I’m not doing it. I’m done.’
‘Karen. This is—’
‘I said that I’m done,’ Karen shouted. ‘No comment. No comment—’
Henley resisted the overwhelming temptation to slap her across the face. Instead she said, ‘I’m going to suspend the interview at 21:43 hours. Don’t for one second think that—’
Henley stopped as Stanford opened the door, but he didn’t enter the room. He beckoned for her to come with him.
‘What’s wrong?’ Henley asked as Stanford pulled her into another interview room.
‘I can’t get hold of Pellacia,’ said Stanford. ‘We’ve called his mobile, the office and even his landline at home. No one has seen him since he left the hospital. He was supposed to be at a meeting at the Yard six hours ago. He never arrived.’