Palmer sat back and waited. He knew he had overplayed Kershaw’s part in the whole thing, but it was now up to Kershaw to extricate himself.
Kershaw sat for a moment, let out a deep breath, and then talked. From what Palmer had said to him he needed to talk, and he needed to talk a lot or he was in deep, deep trouble.
‘It all went wrong, it wasn’t supposed to end this way. I didn’t know about the prison van; I didn’t even know I was being sprung.’
Palmer shook his head and gave Kershaw a sarcastic smile..
‘No, you were the key to the whole game. Without you and your brother-in-law, there was no robbery. You were so important that people were killed to get you onboard.’
‘They were killed ‘cause they wanted a part of it. They got wind of the job and threatened to blow it open if they weren’t in.’
‘So you had East kill them?’
Palmer knew if he kept up the pretence that he thought Kershaw was the main man he’d break and name names.
‘I’m not the main man, I was only the link to Fred.’
‘So Fred Knoble told you about the big shipment of gold going to the Mint?’
‘Yes.’
‘What was his cut going to be?’
‘No, no, no, it wasn’t like that. He wasn’t in it at all. It was just something he said that started all this off. I was wanting to visit my sister socially – we’d had a row ages ago and I wanted to patch it up. But when I spoke to Fred on the phone about going down there, he said not to go on the first Friday of the month as he’s always on gate duty because that’s when bullion comes in; and especially not the first Friday in March as that’s when the big load comes in.’
‘So you saw an opportunity. And told who?’
‘George East. I told George, thinking that sort of information was worth a few quid.’
‘And was it?’
‘Yes, he gave me a bung to keep my mouth shut about it and stay clean, and that was all. Never said I’d be involved, just told me to keep quiet. Then all this other shit happened.’
‘Presumably because you didn’t keep quiet about it?’
‘Yes, we did a post office and got caught. I went down for a three stretch and shot my stupid mouth off to my cellmates.’
‘Shore and Kalhoud.’
‘Yes.’
‘And Shore told his brothers, and they wanted in.’
‘I didn’t know that until after East pulled me off the van. I didn’t know the Shores had done that.’
‘Done what, asked to be in on the robbery?’
‘Yeah, but the silly bastards threatened to grass it if they weren’t in.’
Palmer paused for a few seconds.
‘Bit of a silly move to pull on George East, wasn’t it? He’s not the kind of chap to threaten.’
‘Bloody right he’s not.’
‘Nor is Frank Alexander.’
‘I didn’t know George had taken it to Alexander until after I was out of the van. I thought George was getting a team together on his own; I didn’t know he’d taken the gig to Mr Alexander.’
Palmer noted the deference paid to ‘Mr’ Alexander, reflected on the status of the man in the criminal fraternity and Kershaw’s obvious fear of him.
‘Okay, let’s talk about what happened to the van and you afterwards. What happened when East pulled the van up?’
‘I don’t know, you can only see out sideways from the cubicles, not front or back. I didn’t even know we’d been hijacked. Wasn’t until we drew into the warehouse that we all realised something was up.’
‘And what happened there?’
‘East came in the back and let me out of the cage; he’d got the keys off the guard. I thought the others would be out too, but I didn’t see them. I had a hood put over my head. I was told to keep quiet and hustled quickly out and taken away in a car. I didn’t know what happened to them, I didn’t see any shooting. It was only when I was taken to Mr Alexander’s offices that I was told about that.’
‘What were you told?’
‘He said that because I’d mouthed off about the job in jail, Shore and his brothers had put the squeeze on and had been killed in case they blabbed about it to anybody else and wrecked the whole plan.’
‘Bit over the top to kill them, wasn’t it?’
‘Lot of money involved. Fred had told me that sometimes twenty million in gold was delivered; a lot of money.’
‘So I assume that you were kept at East’s flat until the night of the robbery, in case you told anybody else?’
‘No, he moved in with me at my place. It was only for a day.’
‘In Clapham Road?’
‘Yes
Palmer mentally kicked himself. He had surveillance on East’s flat, on Alexander’s offices and house and the snooker hall, hoping that East would go to one of them to lay low with Kershaw. He hadn’t thought of Kershaw’s flat. He ended the interview.
‘Okay Mr Kershaw, that will do for now.’
‘How’s Fred, is he okay?’
‘He’s alive, he’s in hospital, and probably looking forward to getting out and meeting his brother-in-law again. I’m sure he’ll have a few things to say to you. Interview ends 10.20.’
He leant forward and flicked the recording button to off.
‘I’ll get a transcript of the recording to you ASAP, Mr Fredericks. In the meantime you can have as much time as you like with your client, but bail will be refused and he’ll be kept in custody pending charges being brought against him.’
He nodded to them both and left the room.
‘We didn’t think of that.’
In the Team Room Palmer was still annoyed at his error.
‘You don’t kidnap somebody and take them back to their home, do you?’
Gheeta nodded in agreement.
‘Not usually guv, no.’
‘Get an armed response car to check it out; I can’t think East would be there now, but just in case. And then get Frome to put a forensic team in and give it the once-over.’
Claire swung round in her chair.
‘They’ve found the car he stole in Bristol, sir. Or what’s left of it.’
She pointed up to one of the screens. A picture of a burnt-out car flashed up. Palmer peered forward at it.
‘Where is it?’
‘Under some railway arches in Acton.’
‘Acton? Not giving away any clues is he, eh? He dumped it as soon as he got near the Mayor’s Congestion Charge area, before it could get picked up by the NRCs. He’s good. Better have Forensics take a look, but I can’t imagine we will get anything relevant from it.’
Julie from the Media Centre entered. Palmer sighed an ‘oh no what now?’ sigh.
‘No, I haven’t time for press conferences.’
Julie nodded.
‘Yes, you have. Four o’clock in the media suite, update on the ‘barbecue’ killings.’
‘The what?’
‘The tabloids have christened the case ‘the Barbecue Killings’.
‘That is awful.’
He looked from Gheeta to Claire, who both had looks of horror on their faces.
‘I know,’ Julie agreed. ‘That’s why Bateman won’t do it, and has shifted the conference onto your very capable broad shoulders again, Detective Chief Superintendent Palmer, sir.’
‘You patronising sod.’
‘I am, aren’t I,’ she laughed. ‘But to be honest Justin, we thought you did a great job last time and have every confidence in you... sir.’
‘Double patronising sod.’
‘Okay, but jesting aside how do you want to handle it? The press boys know about the Royal Mint job, and the Knoble family have taken the king’s shilling for their story so the press also know George East is in the frame as well and on the run.’
Palmer thought for moment.
‘Okay, I’ll concentrate on him then – the usual ‘don’t approach but call a copper’ line.’
‘Good, I’ll see you downs
tairs about ten to four; give me a bell if you need anything. By the way, where do you want your fan mail sent to?’
‘Piss off.’
‘I kid you not. We have a shoe-boxful since your last appearance on telly.’
Gheeta was stunned.
‘Is that usual?’
Julie nodded.
‘Yes, we always get a few; usually marriage proposals or death threats to the officer, but I have to admit, not usually this many. You’re a star, Justin.’
‘I don’t want them,’ Palmer said adamantly. ‘Tell you what, readdress the death threats to Benji my next-door neighbour would you?’
‘No, I’ll have them all destroyed. That’s the usual procedure.’
‘Be interesting to read the marriage proposals,’ Claire laughed.
‘Some desperate women out there, eh?’ Gheeta replied with a wink.
‘Sad really.’
Claire shook her head and returned the wink. Palmer looked from one to the other.
‘Have you two finished? We have a crime to solve, in case you had forgotten.’
He turned to Julie.
‘Ten to four, I’ll be there.’
The press conference went well; he had skirted round the awkward questions, kept his temper when some little oik from the Guardian kept on about why hadn’t they got East already, and was it because he’d not enough men? Of course it was, but if he’d started on his views about police cuts he’d be in Bateman’s office in the morning on a disciplinary charge. And he had to painstakingly explain to the man from the Mail who asked why the Firearms chaps hadn’t shot East that if they had, under the current PCP rules they’d all be up on charges themselves; you can’t just loose off at anybody these days, you have to give them warnings and dodge their bullets as you do so.
The rest of the afternoon had not brought any new leads on East, and Palmer was glad to get home and relax. He took Daisy for a walk round Dulwich Park, mainly to get away from the smoke from Benji’s barbecue which was obviously still undergoing ‘testing’; then he had a long relaxing soak in the bath and watched a Barcelona match on Sky, with a large glass of cider and a large bag of crisps. It was Mrs P.’s Women’s Institute Committee Meeting night, so Daisy took advantage and lay on the sofa next to him, scrounging the odd crisp that made a dash for freedom ‘twixt bag and mouth.
All the time his mind was turning over the case. Where was East? He was pretty sure he was still in the country; the red flags at Border Security are pretty reliable in picking out people. No, East was in London; he knew London, he had friends in London who would help him, especially Frank Alexander. He was a chip off the old block too. Palmer smiled as he recalled Frank’s dad, George Alexander, and the look of surprise when a young DS Palmer and a team from the Organised Crime Squad led by ‘Nipper’ Read had pulled him out of bed at six in the morning, read him his rights, and arrested him for his part in the Knightsbridge Safe Deposit Robbery. Funny how life has a knack of repeating itself.
Oh well, what would tomorrow bring?
CHAPTER 21
Gail Alexander was not happy. They had not slept well after staying up until the small hours after East’s second call and had cat-napped all day. They checked the TV news every hour, but no mention of East being arrested. Now the evening was closing in again as she poured another drink for herself and one for Frank from a decanter on an antique rosewood desk, and they both stood looking out of the large French windows onto the long back garden and the golf course beyond as they sipped. No chance of that view changing; that golf course would never be developed for housing, certainly not while Frank was on the committee.
It was an expensive house on the fringes of Blackheath, set well away from the road and prying eyes with large gardens that a gardener took care of. They entertained, and were entertained; their humble background of petty crime in south London, that had grown to major crime and had financed, and still financed, their expensive life style was kept well under wraps. Frank was a successful city businessman – that was the mantra played out whenever anybody asked; and as long as the Alexanders kept donating well to local causes, nobody could be bothered to look any further.
‘What if he comes here?’
‘He won’t, I told him to stay away. He’ll know we are being watched, so he won’t come here.’
‘Are you sure you are in the clear on this?’
‘Yes. George got the gun, he rented it; the lot he got it from don’t know me.’
‘Your big signature job has turned out to be a real failure hasn’t it, eh?’
‘Yep. Freddy Doorman told me to take care when that Palmer copper got involved. Said he was good.’
‘Freddy was right. What are you going to do about George?’
‘With a bit of luck they nabbed him at the snooker hall.’
He finished his drink and poured himself another one.
‘He’s got nothing on me, nothing to tie me in with this.’
‘Christ, Frank, don’t be a fool. He’s been with you for years, and knows all about your businesses.’
‘All legit, nothing to hide now. Books and accounts up-to-date.’
‘Except the offshore ones.’
‘Too well-hidden, they couldn’t find those.’
‘I hope you’re right, ‘cause East will take a deal if it means a softer charge. You know he will.’
The front doorbell rang. Frank turned and placed his drink on the table.
‘I bet that’s the law. If they haven’t a search warrant they’re not coming in.’
Gail snapped at him.
‘Don’t be stupid! Remember, we don’t know anything about this – nothing. You let them in, and if they say anything about last night act surprised. Use your head, Frank.’
He nodded and left the lounge. In the hall he flicked on the porch light before opening the door. Nobody was there. He stepped out and looked around; nobody. His mind raced. It must be East. What’s he playing at? What is his game?
He stepped back inside and closed the door, clicking down the security lock. Down the hall he went into the kitchen and pulled open the cutlery drawer set in the side of an old oak dining table. The drawer pulled right out, it was shorter than its housing. Frank reached inside to the back and pulled out a Glock 26 pistol, the magazine already loaded.
He put the drawer back, held the gun down by his side, and made his way back to the lounge.
Gail was seated in an armchair, with George East stood behind her holding his gun to her head. Frank noted one of the French doors was slightly open, showing where East had entered from.
‘Don’t even raise the gun Frank, or she’s dead. Throw it onto the sofa.’
He did as he was told.
‘What are you doing, George? You need to get away, what’s all this about?’
‘It’s about you grassing me, Frank.’
‘Are you kidding?’
‘Only one person knew I was going to the snooker hall, Frank: you. You told me to go there. So how comes the police were there soon after, Frank? Eh? Explain that. You think I’m so stupid as to fall for that old trick? You pulled that one on Harry Belton, remember that do you? After we did the Graff jewellery shop; put a bit of the loot in a safe house in Eltham and told Harry to lay low there, and then sent the law round. He’s still doing his time on that. I’m not doing time on this one, Frank, oh no. This is too big. If they get me on this I’m up on first degree, four times. They’ll throw the key away, and I’m not about to let them do that.’
‘What are you going to do.’
‘It’s not what I’m going to do, Frank. It’s what you are going to do.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. And I’ll tell you what you are going to do. You are going to go to your office and open the safe and bring back the two hundred grand you keep inside it. I am going to have that money Frank, and then you will never see me again. If you think that instead of going to the office you might go and tell the police I’m here, think again Fran
k; if I so much as suspect they are coming for me, Gail will die. I’m on the sheet for four murders Frank, so one more won’t make a difference. Understand? One sniff of a copper, and bang-bang – bye-bye Gail. There’s an Audi squad car outside, fifty yards down the road with two plainclothes blokes in it. If anymore arrive when you’re gone, bang-bang.’
‘Do it, Frank,’ Gail said, her voice faltering. ‘We can make the money back. Do as he says.’
Frank feigned reticence while his mind slipped into overdrive.
‘Okay, but then you go, George. You go, and you stay gone.’
East nodded.
‘That’s the deal. And you come back from the office alone; no funny business.’
Frank pulled his motor slowly out of his drive onto the main road; he noted the plain squad car parked further down and passed it without looking. It drew out fifty metres behind and slotted into the following traffic.
In the Team Room Gheeta spoke to Johnson and Simms in the tail car on the comms as Palmer listened and watched the moving light on the screen.
‘Is he alone, two-seven?’
‘Yes, looks like it,’ Simms replied. ‘Unless he’s got anybody hidden on the floor.’
Palmer leant towards the mic.
‘Two-seven, this is Palmer. Take care and keep with him. If East managed to get into the house without us knowing, Alexander could well be trying to smuggle him out somewhere. Just remember East has a gun, and has used it.’
‘Will do, sir.’
Gheeta took over as Palmer stood back.
‘We have eyes on you, two-seven. Looks like he’s heading into town.’
Frank kept an eye on the following car. No need to try and lose it, he was in the clear; to all intents and purposes he was just going about his own business. The traffic was not thick at that time of night and soon he was parked in his office space at the Shard underground car park and making his way up to reception.
He signed in with the night duty staff, passed a few comments about the weather and took the lift to his offices. From the front office’s one-way glass windows he could see the squad car waiting on the road below.
‘I won’t be long, chaps.’
Burning Ambition (DCS Palmer and the Serial Murder Squad Book 7) Page 9