Chapter 8

St Ermin’s Hotel, Caxton St, London, UK.

Sunday 14th August 2011; 9pm

 

After a busy day Ben was ready for his bed, even though it was only nine o’clock, but before he could make a move towards his bedroom the phone rang. It was DC Fellowes and he was ranting about the Crown Prosecution Service and the courts and society in general, but the main purpose of the call was to inform Ben that Dennis Grierson was out on bail and electronically tagged. Despite the DC’s complaints about a suspect facing a charge of attempted murder on a police officer, he was not too worried. Dennis Grierson was locked in one place or another, and on Tuesday Fellowes and Scott would hand deliver the files.

Ben listened, and replied where expected. He saw advantages in both forms of containment. Out in the community Grierson was free, but he was also vulnerable, and Ben might just be able to take advantage of that vulnerability. He had barely replaced the receiver when the phone rang again. It was his father, calling from the Ranch in New Zealand. Patrick was an early riser but it was still only eight in the morning on Sunday in Masterton.

“Ben, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Ihaka died peacefully in his sleep last night.” A lot more was said before and after that sentence was uttered, but that was the only sentence that Ben remembered once he put the phone down.

Ben lay down on the bed, tears welling in his eyes, and tried to remember the first time he had met the old Maori Elder.