Chapter 64

New Scotland Yard, London.

Sunday 28th August 2011; 4pm.

 

Ben and Max had been separated when they arrived at Scotland Yard. Max was a witness to the bloodbath at Carter’s Yard, which had claimed another death as one more thug succumbed to his injuries. Six were dead, two had lost limbs and one was in dire need of reconstructive facial surgery as soon as he was out of danger.

In the three weeks since the riots, the North London criminal fraternity had taken a beating. Dennis Grierson and his cohorts were either dead or on remand, the TH Crew had been destroyed, several were in secure units, two were on remand and two more were in council care, awaiting appeals from their parents to have them home. The real power behind Grierson’s throne, Ashley Garner and Gavin Mapperley, were on remand or on the run, and their team were dead, disabled or running for the hills. The Trafalgar House Flats were as peaceful as they had been in those early days of the 1960s before the gangs had taken control, and this time the police were setting up a control office in one of the flats, to be manned full time. Assistant Commissioner Penelope Thomas appeared to have some pull, after all.

The Commissioner himself had taken the time to thank DCI Coombes, DCI Griffiths and four other senior officers for their work. The two ACs received written commendations and the members of the Internal Affairs Bureau were less scorned than usual when they picked up three of Radlett’s colleagues for questioning.

No one was looking too hard for a link between Metal Tokens, Hedo’s and Carter’s Yard, because Mapperley was in custody and Cresty Group’s accounts were in the hands of the National Crimes Agency.

Notwithstanding the high spirits amongst the officers who normally hated working on Sundays, there was a triple murder to be solved and the gangs taskforce had yet to track down the rival gang who had wiped out Mapperley’s team, albeit forensics had turned up very little on site.

It was in this atmosphere that DCI Coombes and DS Scott sat opposite Ben Fogarty and Damien Cresswell, his lawyer. Damien was speaking.

“Come along, now, Detective Chief Inspector. How much longer are we going to indulge in this ‘danse macabre’? This is what we know. A wanted felon has told you that my client committed the three Rectory murders, and she has now run off to we know not where. My own suspicion is that she is looking for Osama Bin Laden’s real estate agent. We will never see her again, and I think you know it. You have no witness, and even if she was here, who would believe her? She was the leader of a criminal enterprise to match the Kray Twins. Ben, here, even by your witness’s evidence, was kidnapped and imprisoned in the house. He was found with a gun which had not, in fact, been fired, and which belonged to a known criminal, until his demise. On the other hand, you have your witness’s original statement, which was a pack of lies, by her own admission, and a boatload of forensic evidence tying her to the deaths. My client had no motive to kill these men, and no opportunity; they were dead when he found them.”

The lawyer paused. “For heaven’s sake, my client called the police. Look, I do work for the Crown Prosecution Service, and they will never countenance a prosecution like this. The Metropolitan Police would be a laughing stock.”

Damien sat back in his chair. DCI Coombes looked up at the video camera in the corner and shrugged his shoulders. A minute later the door opened and a uniformed officer entered.

“Assistant Commissioner Timothy Garrett has entered the interview room,” DCI Coombes announced for the digital recorder whilst pressing the red button that imprinted the time on the recording.

“Mr Fogarty, Mr Cresswell. DCI Coombes and DS Scott have submitted a report along the lines of your summation. They requested that we consider removing Mr Fogarty from the investigation as a person of interest and restore him to witness status. That has been agreed.

Evidence taken from a police forensic scientist, and corroborated by an officer under investigation, suggests that one of our people was tasked by Mrs Garner’s colleagues to close down this investigation quickly. We can only assume that this was to distract us from pursuing Mrs Garner. However, Mr Fogarty, you have been in this country for less than a month and you have found yourself at the scene of multiple deaths twice, and at a drugs raid in Soho.”

Garrett smiled at Ben’s surprised expression, and explained. “We have you on CCTV, standing in the crowd and laughing. Might I suggest that you head back to New Zealand and maybe find a young rugby team to coach for the upcoming season? You are welcome in the UK at any time, as a UK citizen, but we are busy just now with the aftermath of the riots and you seem to be able to create a mini riot wherever you go.”

 

Ben leaned over and spoke to his lawyer in hushed tones. Damien Cresswell looked up at the two policemen and nodded. “My client has instructed me to find him a flight back to New Zealand just as soon as his stitches are removed, and in any event no later than mid September.”

The meeting closed and hands were shaken all around. Damien Cresswell and AC Garrett left the room, chatting about England’s chances in the cricket winter tour of India, and Ben was left with DCI Coombes and DS Scott.

“I was wondering, Ben,” DCI Coombes ventured in his least threatening tone, a tone he liked to think of as comradely. “I am retiring in October; if the missus and I were to come to New Zealand, would you be interested in showing us around, maybe taking in a game or two?”

“I can do better than that. Let me know when you’re coming and you can stay at the ranch. Dad will be pleased to have you.”

“Dad being Patrick Fogarty, the former New Zealand Minister for Justice?”

“The very same,” Ben smiled, and shook hands with both detectives before going in search of Max Richmond.