Trenchard and Quigley watched in silence.
‘That is you holding a gun, isn’t it?’ Fleming pressed.
‘Yes,’ Trenchard admitted confidently. ‘We did have guns in the army in Afghanistan you know. Someone clearly took that video of me and somehow managed to splice it together with another one… the one you see here of the shooting.’
‘Why would someone do that?’ Fleming pressed.
‘I have no idea.’
Fleming turned the laptop round and closed it. ‘Your name was in Ronnie Nielson’s electronic calendar for the night he was killed. You weren’t with Leo Miller that night, were you? You were meeting Nielson.’
‘No, I was not.’
‘You shot innocent civilians in Afghanistan. Someone captured it on video. Nielson somehow got hold of it and decided to keep it in case it came in handy one day.’
‘No, this is all clearly a set-up.’
‘He asked you to go and see him on his boat. Said he had something you might want to see. Something you might want to pay for.’
‘This is ridiculous!’ Trenchard protested.
‘You went into a fit of rage when he showed you the video on his laptop. You didn’t mean to kill him. You picked up a heavy glass ashtray and hit him on the head. He fought back. You thought your life was in danger. You grabbed a knife and you stabbed him. That’s what happened, isn’t it?’
‘No,’ Trenchard whispered, ‘that’s not… I mean no… it’s not true! This is all a big mistake.’
‘You left and took the laptop with y–’
‘I’d like a private word with my client if I may,’ Quigley broke in.
Fleming nodded. ‘Okay. We will be going to court with an application to keep your client in custody for three days, pending further enquiries and forensic results. Interview terminated at twelve fifteen.’
Outside the interview room, Temple looked worried. ‘I hope you’re confident that his fingerprints and DNA samples will give you enough to charge him. Because so far he has answers to everything.’
Fleming’s mobile rang as he was about to answer: Logan. ‘Hello, Harry.’
Logan sounded breathless. ‘Just had word from DS Crowe. Jimmy Calder’s dead. Another heart attack.’
Fleming cut the call, took a deep breath and stared at the phone. He couldn’t speak.
‘Alex? You all right?’ Temple asked.
Fleming looked at Temple with glazed eyes. ‘I’m fine, just fine.’
78
Logan and Anderson had made a thorough search through the documents supplied by the banks. The work had been slow and painstaking, but they had found some interesting large payments made to both Watson and Jardine.
Fleming hadn’t yet returned from the interview with Trenchard when the phone in Fleming’s office rang. Logan picked up his handset and tapped on the group pick-up button to answer the call.
Anderson could hear the voice on the other end but couldn’t make out what they were saying. She looked quizzically at Logan as his eyes opened wide in disbelief. ‘What is it?’ she mouthed softly.
Logan waved away the query, listening intently to what the caller was saying.
‘Okay,’ he finally said, ‘I’ll let him know as soon as he gets back from Maidenhead.’ Logan put the phone down thoughtfully.
‘Well?’ Anderson asked.
Before he could answer, Fleming arrived.
‘Everything all right?’ Fleming asked, noticing the questioning look on Anderson’s face.
‘I need a word, boss. I’ve taken a call from the Met that came through on your extension. There’s something you need to know.’
‘Better come in then,’ Fleming said, making towards his office door.
‘There’s been a bit of a breakthrough. Seems our friends McBain and Tyler have been up to more than doing over Jimmy Calder,’ Logan said as Fleming came through the door.
‘Oh?’
‘They’ve been arrested for the murder of Damien Potts.’
‘Really?’ Fleming looked deep in thought.
‘What are you thinking, boss?’
‘I think there’s a good chance that Watson got McBain to silence Potts. We now know that Watson and McBain were in cahoots with each other. Watson got him to do over Jimmy Calder making it look like I was behind it because he wanted me suspended and off the Nielson case. Reason being, he was worried I might stumble across something that proved he and Jardine were on the take. Then he can’t take the chance that Potts knows the names of the bent cops so he has him killed.’
‘So, Nielson’s murder probably had nothing to do with bent cops,’ Logan mused. ‘Watson would have had a motive to kill him because Nielson had threatened to blow the whistle, but it looks like Trenchard did that for him.’
Fleming nodded. ‘Did the Met say how they caught McBain and Tyler?’
‘Simple policing in the end. There was a newspaper article about a body found washed up by the Thames. It turns out a man had seen something suspicious a few days earlier; a car speeding off with two men in it after hearing a loud splash so he went to have a look. There was a large object drifting up river with the tide which he put down to fly tipping at the time. He only went to the police when he saw the newspaper article. He remembered the car was an Audi and part of the registration number. The Met traced it to Tyler. It was the same Audi I checked out. They did the usual forensic checks on his car and the idiot hadn’t even bothered to clean it up. They found traces of Potts’s blood in the boot. Tyler panicked under questioning and named McBain as the other man.’
‘All neat and tidy, eh?’ Fleming observed. ‘Looks like they’re going down for two murders now that Jimmy Calder’s dead. Changing the subject, how are you and Naomi getting on with the little task Liz Temple set you?’
‘Painstaking work, but we’ve had some success. There are loads of unexplained payments into Watson and Jardine’s bank accounts.’
‘Probably not the news Temple and Upson would have wished for, especially Upson. The last thing he needs is proof that he had bent cops on his force,’ Fleming said. He thought for a moment then asked, ‘Have they both been arrested?’
‘No. The super wants more evidence.’
‘You’re joking. It’s in their bank accounts.’
‘The payments didn’t come directly from Nielson or McBain so we need to prove that someone else made the payments for them. We’re still working on it.’
‘They’ve not even been pulled in to explain how the payments got there?’
Logan shook his head. ‘Not yet,’ he said, making to leave Fleming’s office. He turned by the door. ‘Oh, by the way, almost forgot to tell you the other good news…’
‘Which is?’
‘They’ve found the Nielson murder weapon. It was buried in the silt at the bottom of the river a few yards away from Nielson’s boat. Forensics think they might be able to recover partial prints.’
‘That’s great news,’ Fleming said.
Later, alone in his office, Fleming was thinking things were becoming clearer, but something told him this was not quite over. He couldn’t shake off the sense of foreboding that had come over him.
79
Fleming, Temple, Trenchard and Silas Quigley were back in interview room one. Quigley glanced uneasily across the table at the two police officers and looked as though he wished he was somewhere else. Temple seemed calm. Trenchard drummed his fingers on the table in front of him as though bored.
Fleming gazed at Trenchard. ‘I showed you a video yesterday. It shows you shooting unarmed civilians when you were serving with the army in Afghanistan. You claimed it was f–’
‘Of course it is,’ Trenchard cut in. ‘That was not me shooting these people, I can assure you.’
‘We’ve had the video examined by experts and it shows no signs of having been tampered with,’ Fleming persisted.
‘I’m afraid that proves nothing,’ Quigley said. ‘It’s not easy to detect alterations when a recor
ding is digitised and copied onto a computer. And it’s not always possible to spot physical or electronically edited footage that has been recopied onto another video.’
Fleming knew a good defence lawyer could tear apart a major strand of his evidence and began to feel sick. Fleming tried to stay calm. ‘But the fact remains that the video has been examined and there is no evidence to support your client’s claim that it’s a fake.’
‘Do you have any eye witnesses to verify the validity of the video?’ Quigley persisted.
‘No,’ Fleming admitted. ‘We do not. However, we are satisfied the video is genuine.’ He turned to Trenchard. ‘Do you still deny meeting Ronnie Nielson on the night that he was killed?’
‘Yes… yes, of course I do!’ Trenchard spat out. ‘I’d not set eyes on the man since Afghanistan.’
‘Forensics went through your house with a toothcomb.’ Fleming was talking fast. ‘They found traces of mud in a shoe cupboard that matches mud samples taken off Nielson’s boat.’
Trenchard glanced nervously at Quigley.
Fleming didn’t relent. ‘They also found minute traces of blood on one of your pullovers. DNA testing proves that it came from Nielson.’
‘I… I…’
‘You recently grew a beard. That was to hide scratches on your face, wasn’t it?’
Trenchard shook his head.
‘We found some skin tissue under Nielson’s fingernails. It matches your DNA.’
There was panic in Trenchard’s eyes as he looked pleadingly at Quigley who stared ahead with a blank look on his face.
Fleming was relentless. ‘Wool fibres matching those from your pullover were found on Nielson’s boat.’
The blood drained from Trenchard’s face.
‘Your fingerprints are on the boat, and on the glass ashtray you hit him with. Still deny you were there?’
‘I… I…’ Trenchard stammered.
Fleming completed the onslaught. ‘We’ve found the murder weapon,’ he said quietly. ‘It has your prints on it.’
Trenchard slumped over the table and sobbed. ‘I had to do it. He threatened to send the video to the press unless I paid him a hundred grand. God! I was so close. The result of the leadership election will be announced next week!’ Trenchard was sobbing uncontrollably. ‘He’s destroyed me!’
‘I think you’ve destroyed yourself.’
Logan took the call. It was from the Met again. McBain and Tyler had tried to do a plea-bargaining deal to get a reduced sentence. They’d admitted they wanted to frighten Potts into keeping quiet about police corruption, but claimed he’d pulled a knife on them and that they were acting in self-defence. They hadn’t set out to kill him and claimed that Bill Watson had put them up to it.
Logan put the phone down. ‘Is the boss in?’ he asked Anderson.
‘He left ten minutes ago.’
‘Know where he went?’
‘He said Frank Jardine phoned him and wanted to meet… something to do with information he had about Bill Watson.’
‘Did he say where he was meeting him?’
‘No, why?’
‘Fuck!’ Logan muttered.
‘Problem?’
‘I think the boss could be walking into a trap,’ Logan said, reaching for the phone.
80
Heavy rain lashed against the windscreen of Fleming’s Porsche as he made his way to the park and ride car park on the north side of Oxford. He was curious about the phone call from Jardine who had asked to meet, saying he had information about Bill Watson. Maybe Jardine thought the noose was tightening and wanted to do a deal before they were both arrested.
Still mulling things over in his mind, Fleming swung his car into the car park. The rain was easing slightly as he cruised round to where Jardine was parked and pulled into a space beside him. He switched the wipers off and killed the engine. Jardine waved and indicated for Fleming to join him. He was alone.
Fleming jumped out of his car and slid into the passenger seat next to Jardine. Fleming looked at him curiously. There was something wrong. Jardine appeared furtive, nervous.
The back door flew open and Watson appeared from nowhere. He dived into the back seat behind Fleming and pressed a knife against his neck. ‘Good of you to come, Fleming,’ he snarled. ‘I wouldn’t do anything stupid if I were you. I don’t mind getting a bit of blood on your nice white shirt, but we don’t really want blood squirting all over Frank’s car, do we?’
Fleming could feel the blade pressing into the side of his neck. A trickle of blood ran down under his shirt collar. ‘What’s this about, Bill? Aren’t you in enough trouble?’
‘Shut the fuck up,’ Watson said. ‘We’re going for a little ride.’
‘Where to?’
Watson ignored the question. ‘Drive,’ he whispered urgently to Jardine.
Fleming was cursing himself for walking so easily into a trap. They headed north through Kidlington and carried on towards Banbury. Fleming wondered where they were taking him. After a while, Jardine took a sharp right-hand turn and then turned right again. They were on an old rutted road with grass growing up the middle. They carried on for a few hundred yards before Jardine stopped the car.
Watson had put the knife away and was pressing the barrel of a gun into Fleming’s neck. ‘Out of the car,’ Watson ordered.
Fleming eased himself slowly out of the passenger seat and wondered if he would be able to disarm Watson by slamming the door against him as he got out.
Watson must have read his mind. He was pointing his gun at Fleming through the open rear window. ‘Take a few steps away from the car, there’s a good chap.’
Fleming obliged and watched as Watson and Jardine climbed out of the car.
Watson pointed up the track ahead that led to an old derelict building. ‘Up there.’
Rubble, crumbling concrete and the remnants of rusty metal structures littered the whole site. Fleming walked slowly towards what remained of the building. A wooden door was hanging off rusty hinges. Traces of blistered blue paint hung stubbornly to the panels. All the windows were broken.
‘Apologies for the state of the place.’ Watson laughed. ‘Not the most inviting place, I must admit.’
‘Mind if I ask what this is about?’ Fleming asked rather unnecessarily. The fact that Watson had brought him to some remote old industrial site and had a gun spoke for itself. It was obvious he intended to kill him. Fleming’s mind was racing. He needed to play for time.
Watson pushed him hard in the back. ‘In there.’
Fleming stood in the middle of what must at one time have been the site office. Rubble and broken glass littered the floor. He turned and faced Watson and Jardine. ‘I think you’re about to make a very big mistake. You’re in the clear over Nielson’s murder, you know.’
‘That a fact. I could have told you that I had nothing to do with it,’ Watson said. He frowned and added, ‘So how come you’ve come to that conclusion?’
‘You were in the frame when Mrs Hayden told us that Nielson was threatening to blow the whistle on you, but we’ve found new evidence.’
Watson was curious. ‘Oh yeah, what would that be?’
‘We searched Nielson’s house again in case we’d missed anything. There was an address book. It had your number in it… and Anthony Hayden’s.’ Fleming looked at Jardine who was standing with his mouth half open. ‘Yours was there too, Frank.’
‘So how come you’ve concluded that I didn’t kill Nielson?’ Watson asked.
‘There was something else… an external hard drive. It had enough evidence on it to confirm that Nielson was blackmailing Charles Trenchard.’
‘Trenchard? You’re joking, right?’
‘No joke, Bill. So whatever you had in mind here isn’t a good idea. They might be able to prove you are guilty of misconduct in public office, but you’re in the clear for murder. Might even get away without a prison sentence, but at worst you’re looking at two… maybe four years. You’d be out in a
year to two years. Kill me and you get life.’
Watson sneered. ‘A year… two years… it might as well be life. Know how many criminals I’ve put away in my time, Fleming? There’s quite a few inside that’d make sure the only way I left prison was in a wooden box. I can’t run the risk that I’ll get a prison sentence.’
Fleming shrugged. ‘More chance you’ll die in prison if you kill a cop.’
Watson snorted. ‘You’re forgetting McBain’s claim that I asked him to carry out the assault on Jimmy Calder. I’ll be in a whole shitload of trouble if you can prove that now that Calder is dead.’
‘All we have is McBain’s word for that, and the fact you told me where to find Calder which could point to you trying to set me up. But it’s all circumstantial, isn’t it? Could be difficult to prove unless you confessed to it.’
‘Fuck you, Fleming.’ Watson raised the gun and pointed it at Fleming’s head. Watson was breathing hard.
‘He has a point,’ Jardine blurted. ‘All they have on us are the allegations that we’re bent cops. We can’t–’
‘Shut the fuck up!’ Watson screamed at Jardine, the gun shaking in Watson’s hand.
‘Please, boss,’ Jardine pleaded, ‘put the gun down, for God’s sake!’
Watson glared at Jardine. ‘You’re weak, you know that? And stupid. They’re going to try to pin Potts’s murder on me as well. He went to the press with allegations of police corruption and now he’s dead. They’ll think I had him killed to keep him quiet.’
Jardine fell silent.
‘As it happens, I did get McBain to kill Potts,’ Watson continued. ‘And now I’m going to kill our friend here and that’s a fact. He’s managed to ruin my career. He wants to see me go to prison and he’s going to pay for that. I wanted to get him off the Nielson case before he found out too much. That’s why I tried to set him up for the assault on Calder. But that backfired because bloody Tyler, McBain and Paddy Eckhard were careless. There’s going to be no mistake this time though. You’re a dead man, Fleming.’
The Fifth Suspect Page 28