Marked for Death

by Tony Kent

  ‘Why would she be asking you?’

  ‘She’d come to ask Derek about him, really, because Derek was the barrister in Penfold’s case. But I saw her first and mentioned knowing a little about the guy. Just stuff Derek had told me back in the day. Anyway, what’s the news? They’ve got him?’

  ‘They’ve got Penfold, yeah. But he’s not a suspect any more.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Turns out he had the perfect alibi. He was under police surveillance when both Longman and Blunt were killed.’

  For just a moment Michael seemed deflated. Sarah thought she knew why. The arrest of Longman’s killer would be the surest way to lift Reid’s spirits. It made Penfold’s innocence a disappointment.

  ‘Where does that leave Levy’s case?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Square one.’ Sarah felt dejected. As if the failure was somehow hers. ‘They’re no further forward than they were on day one. Penfold was the only viable suspect with a link to Longman and Blunt. With him gone, it’s back to finding someone with a motive from Longman’s past.’

  ‘That’s a lifetime of suspects,’ Michael said. ‘It could take them weeks to track every case.’

  ‘Maybe not weeks,’ Sarah replied. ‘Levy said they have a filter system. Criteria to let them concentrate on the most likely first. But there are no other links between the two. Longman didn’t act as judge for any of Blunt’s other clients. Not in cases that turned out badly, anyway. So it’s still a big job and her team is already stretched to breaking point.’

  Michael nodded his understanding, but Sarah could see that his sharp mind was already moving on. It got there quickly.

  ‘Hang on,’ he said, looking at her quizzically. ‘What you just said about Blunt’s clients. What about the other defendants where Longman was the judge? The ones Blunt arrested?

  ‘What?’ Sarah was growing confused. ‘What do you mean arrested? Who did he arrest?’

  ‘Plenty of people, I’d have thought. Blunt wasn’t always a lawyer. Certainly not when I first knew him. Blunt used to be a cop.’

  Sarah sat bolt upright. Michael’s revelation changed everything.

  ‘Which means it could be a case Blunt investigated. Rather than one he defended?’

  ‘Exactly,’ Michael replied. ‘I would have thought the police knew that, but if Levy wasn’t aware he was a cop then the parameters of her search could be excluding the wrong people. Her team might have found this guy already, only to dismiss him because Blunt wasn’t the lawyer.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  Sarah thought for a moment. What Michael had told her could be the key to the case. A key that Levy would expect to be given. That was the arrangement. Sarah would help where she could, in exchange for an exclusive when the time came.

  It was an arrangement that Elton had instructed her to end, but to hell with him. There were more important things than exclusives. More important things than her career.

  Michael got to his feet while Sarah was still thinking and pulled on his jacket.

  ‘I’ve got to get going.’

  He walked back to the table and kissed Sarah as she rose from her own chair.

  ‘Good luck today,’ Sarah said. ‘Give them hell.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Michael replied. He changed the subject. ‘Will you be back before bed tonight?’

  ‘Can’t say. It depends how the whole “Blunt was a cop” thing plays out.’

  ‘Then maybe I should have kept my trap shut,’ Michael said, ‘because there’s a whole lot of bad bastards on Blunt’s police résumé.’

  ‘Like who? Anyone you know?’

  ‘Personally? Just the one. A nasty piece of work from back when I was Derek’s pupil. But it can’t be him.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because he’s still in prison.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘I am. And if I weren’t I’d be beating Levy’s door down. Honestly, of all the people I’ve met in my career, this guy was the worst by a length and then some. Bad enough that I’ve kept tabs on him over the years.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You’re not the only person with contacts on the Parole Board. If this bastard ever sees fresh air I want to know about it. So I made arrangements.’

  Sarah detected the grim note in Michael’s voice. It spoke volumes and it intrigued her. Impossible suspect or not, she wanted to know more.

  ‘I think you need to call Levy,’ Michael said, moving the conversation on as he headed for the door. ‘Let her know about Blunt’s cop angle, if she doesn’t already.’

  ‘I will,’ Sarah replied. She fully intended to ignore Elton’s order, but right now her curiosity had been piqued. ‘This guy you mentioned, though. She’ll need to eliminate him as a suspect. What was his name?’

  Michael looked back from the doorway, his face ashen. Sarah could tell that the subject – the memory – was unwelcome.

  ‘His name was Hirst,’ Michael finally said, as if the words were an effort. ‘Karl Hirst.’

  FORTY-SEVEN

  ‘Will you be home early again tonight, Mum?’

  Levy kept her hands on the wheel as she looked towards her son, who sat belted in the passenger seat of her Volvo for the morning school run.

  When did 8 p.m. become ‘early’? she thought. It said everything she needed to know about her work–life balance.

  ‘I hope so.’ Hope won out over expectation. It always did where Richard was concerned. ‘And if I am then we’ll go up to Highgate village for dinner. What do you think?’

  ‘That’ll be awesome.’ Richard’s face beamed excitement. ‘We can have pasta.’

  ‘We can have whatever you want.’ Levy smiled. Sometimes the simplest things can bring so much joy. ‘Except beer. You can’t have any beer.’

  ‘Mum!’ Richard laughed aloud. ‘I don’t drink beer!’

  ‘Well just as long as you don’t.’

  Levy was still smiling as she pulled out of the parking space, shifted into second and accelerated along the centre of the road. Richard was pushed back into his seat by the sudden speed. The sensation made him squeal with delight.

  Richard’s school was on the next road. Just around a corner. It took them another ten minutes to get there. They could have walked it in less than five, if there had been anywhere to park. Levy marvelled at how busy London’s streets had become.

  ‘Are you picking me up after school?’ Richard’s voice sounded hopeful as Levy brought the car to a halt.

  ‘Now you’re pushing it, Richard.’ Levy’s voice remained light. This was one subject about which she felt no guilt. She was hardly the only working mother forced to miss the afternoon school run. ‘Claire will be there to collect you.’

  ‘OK. But I’ll see you after?’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’ Levy leaned across, unlocked Richard’s door and pushed it open. ‘Now you be good today.’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’ Richard kissed Levy on her cheek. He pressed his lips in hard. His childish way of showing affection. ‘See you later.’

  ‘See you later too.’

  Levy’s last words were yelled after her son. Richard was already running towards the school gates.

  Levy reached for the door. Pulled it shut. Put the Volvo into first and pulled away. In her passenger wing mirror she watched Richard pass the school gates. Into the safety of the playground. When he was gone she shifted to second and accelerated.

  Levy’s mobile phone sat in the centre console, connected to the car’s hands-free system by Bluetooth. Levy pressed the green call icon on the car’s central display and the system came to life.

  ‘Call Steven Hale.’

  She spoke clearly. Slowly. The system was impressive but it still made mistakes if Levy spoke in any other way.

  Hale’s name and number appeared an instant before the first ring tone. He answered almost as quickly.

  ‘Morning, boss. You on your way in?’ He sounded stressed.

  ‘What’s wrong?’


  ‘Word from above. Rogers wants to see us both as soon as you’re in the building.’

  Levy’s mood dropped. An impromptu summons from the chief superintendent was never good news.

  ‘Any idea why?’

  ‘I hear he’s not happy about yesterday. Too much press attention on what he sees as failed operations.’

  ‘Failed operations? Is he serious? Penfold wasn’t our man but he’s still good for three other murders. And Burrell was a good collar, even with what happened. What’s his problem?’

  ‘I think it’s Burrell.’ Hale sounded dejected. ‘I think Rogers got wind that he’s not good for Ferris after all?’

  ‘Not good for Ferris? Where did that come from?’

  ‘From me. I’ve got my doubts, boss. And I was stupid enough to mention them.’

  ‘Shit.’ Levy knew how the politics of their unit worked. She had thought that Hale did, too. It looked like she had been wrong.

  ‘OK. I’m heading to you now. And Steve?’

  ‘Yes, boss?’

  ‘Keep your bloody mouth shut ’til I get there.’

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Michael reached the top step to the Old Bailey Bar Mess and looked around. It was less busy at 9 a.m. that it would be in thirty minutes. It made Jenny Draper easy to spot. That and the fact that she always sat in the same place.

  Draper saw Michael at the same moment. She waved and held up what Michael assumed was a full mug of hot coffee.

  ‘Prepared as always.’ Michael smiled as he took the seat across from Draper. The coffee was steaming. No milk. Exactly as Michael liked it. ‘And the perfect order.’

  ‘Just making sure my leader is firing on all cylinders.’ Draper broke out her practised smile. She reached out and lightly touched Michael’s left forearm. ‘I just want to say, you were amazing yesterday.’

  ‘You said that yesterday, Jenny.’ Michael pulled back his arm. ‘And thanks. But you don’t need to repeat it.’

  ‘But I do, Michael. I kept replaying it in my head last night. What you did to White, especially with your hands tied by Simon’s instructions. It was amazing.’

  ‘The material was there.’ Michael was not being modest. Just honest. ‘If you gave it enough thought you could have done the same.’

  ‘Matthew Cole didn’t.’ Draper’s enthusiasm was not being dampened by Michael’s calm. ‘And he’s supposed to be, well, he’s Matthew Cole.

  ‘Matt had nothing to work with, Jenny.’ Michael was concerned. He had hoped that the presence of Cole – a much more prominent QC – would direct Draper’s attentions elsewhere. It did not seem to be working. ‘I’d have done no better than him if I was representing O’Driscoll. Matt’s client’s phone was on the scene the whole time. No way around that.’

  ‘You’re being modest, Michael.’ Draper would not be dissuaded. ‘What I saw yesterday? It was, well, it was powerful . . .’

  Draper’s voice dropped as she spoke, her message clear.

  She’s certainly confident, Michael thought. That’s a bad sign.

  ‘Look, Jenny,’ he began, choosing to ignore her open flirtation, ‘I like an ego boost as much as anyone, but trust me, this is still uphill. Cole knows what he’s doing, and Epstein wrote the book on prosecuting cases like this. We’re up against two giants. So let’s leave the congratulations until the end, eh?’

  Draper looked into Michael’s eyes as he spoke, holding his gaze for a few moments once he had finished speaking.

  ‘OK,’ she finally said. ‘I get it. There’s a lot still at stake.’

  ‘There is. Remember, we still need Simon to take our gloves off with O’Driscoll. I can only go so far without him doing that.’

  ‘And that’s my job. I know.’

  Draper was about to say more, but before she could speak again she was interrupted by the court’s speaker system.

  ‘The custodies from Her Majesty’s Prison Belmarsh have arrived. Any barristers needing to see their clients from Belmarsh are asked to attend the cell area now.’

  ‘And as if by magic,’ Michael said, nodding towards the Bar Mess loudspeaker.

  ‘Earlier than usual,’ Draper observed.

  ‘Then let’s take our luck where we find it. If you head down to the cells now you might get as much as an hour with him.’

  ‘You want me to go alone?’

  ‘I think it might be more productive, yeah. Just you and Simon. Lay it on thick, Jenny. Charm the life out of the kid. And make it clear how much you want us to win. Not me. How much you want us to be able to attack O’Driscoll.’

  ‘You really think it’ll work?’

  ‘I honestly have no idea. But we need it to. And we need it to work today. Time’s not Simon’s friend on this one.’

  ‘Why so urgent?’

  ‘Because Terry Colliver’s due to give evidence tomorrow. And if we’re not allowed to attack O’Driscoll by the time Colliver gets in that box, well, I don’t fancy our chances long term.’

  ‘No pressure then.’ Draper got to her feet and gently placed her hand on Michael’s shoulder. ‘I’ll get him on board, Michael. Whatever it takes.’

  Draper removed her hand with a final smile, turned and headed for the Bar Mess doors and the elevators that would take her to the Old Bailey’s basement level.

  You’d better, Michael thought as he watched Draper walk away. Because if you don’t, this is over.

  FORTY-NINE

  The office of Chief Superintendent David Rogers was on the same corridor as Levy’s, but that was as far as the similarities went. It was at least four times the size. Similar, Levy thought, to the room in which Leon Ferris had died.

  In an era of police budgetary cutbacks and at a time when a unit as vital as MIT One was undermanned by almost half, no expense had been spared on Rogers’ accommodation.

  The desk was larger than any one man could need. It always reminded Levy of her time in Israel and of the tables wide enough to hold a detailed map ahead of military operations. Their size was necessary; they served a purpose. All Rogers’ desk served was the man’s ego.

  ‘Take a seat, Joelle. Steven.’

  Rogers spoke without looking up. Levy and Hale had stood to attention in front of the desk. Rogers had let them stay that way for almost thirty seconds. An indication of his mood.

  As if it was needed.

  Levy took the right-hand seat. Hale the left. Both looked towards Rogers. He was pointedly completing paperwork; he did not glance up from the page. A demonstration of relative importance.

  It was lost on both Levy and Hale. Both were long past caring.

  To Rogers’ right was Superintendent Carol Walker. Rogers’ immediate subordinate and Levy’s immediate boss. Walker sat bolt upright in her chair. Two feet back from the desk. Her eyes fixed on Levy and Hale. If Rogers had not been present then Walker would have chaired the meeting. Today she had to defer to his greater rank. Levy could tell that it bothered her. Walker was itching to speak.

  Rogers concluded his paperwork and took his time to carefully sign his name, doing so with a flourish. Next he held up the page and blew lightly on the wet ink, to dry it without causing the lines to streak. Rogers took his time. A message to everyone in the room. Confirmation of where the power sat.

  Finally he placed the paper down, put his hands together and looked directly at Levy.

  ‘So, Joelle. How do you propose we deal with yesterday’s debacles?’

  Straight to the point. Rogers was a politician to the public and to the press. But in here he was a police officer, getting to the heart of a problem.

  ‘I don’t see either incident as a debacle, sir.’ Levy met Rogers’ straight talking with some of her own. ‘Yesterday’s operations may not have resulted in arrests that benefited our investigations, but they were both successful in other respects.’

  ‘That’s a fascinating point of view.’ Rogers’ tone did not agree with his words. ‘Why don’t you enlighten me on that? What was the big success with the v
ery public arrest of Wisdom Penfold? Because I was struggling to see that as it was plastered all over the evening news.’

  ‘Wisdom Penfold was a murderer fleeing the jurisdiction. As we now know it, he had killed an associate of Barry Ireland and stole three million pounds’ worth of diamonds. He is now in custody for that murder, the killing of the victim’s boyfriend and the murder of one undercover officer and the serious assault of another. I fail to see how that’s a disappointment.’

  ‘It’s a disappointment, Joelle, because he is not in custody for Phillip Longman’s murder. Because you have wasted time and resources chasing a bloody red herring. We have two crucifixions thirty-six hours apart, including one of a very important man, and yet you then spend a day and a half chasing a lead that has nothing whatsoever to do with this case and a police officer ends up dead. Do you think the press will miss that?’

  ‘With all due respect, sir, we can’t be obsessed with what the press say. If they find out that Penfold’s initial arrest was for Longman then yes, they’ll crow about it. But only until we find the real killer. It’ll be temporary.’

  ‘Temporary? You think that matters? We’re judged today on yesterday’s results. And that judgement comes fast. Are you so sure you’ll have time to put this right? That you won’t just be replaced?’

  ‘Well that’s your call, sir.’ Levy was shocked at the suggestion but she refused to show it. ‘If you want to replace me then replace me. But it won’t make me agree that Penfold’s arrest was a bad result. We’ve put a murderer away for the rest of his life.’

  ‘At the cost of a surveillance officer. How do you think that will play out? Have you watched the news? They’re already suggesting that our intervention cost the officer his life. That if we hadn’t turned the ferry around the team could have followed him and effected the arrest in Holland with the cooperation of the Dutch authorities.’

  ‘Sir, the press—’

  ‘It’s not just the press, Levy. It’s the bloody NCA as well. They’ve lost two valuable agents; one dead, the other likely invalided. And they say they’ve lost a whole operation, too. That because of us their investigation into Barry Ireland and that Bond Street business is dead in the water.’