A Duty of Revenge

by Quentin Dowse

  ‘It’s bollocks and you know it. I want a name and some evidence and I need them tonight. I have to stop this lot… now… before someone else gets killed. You give me as much evidence as you’ve got so I can arrest and charge them before they hurt anyone else. Admit your minor part in the whole story and I’ll ensure you get a suitably minor charge… and a good word to the judge.’

  The old Grantmore struggled to the surface and he leant forward across the table, his damaged face jerking and throbbing like a separate being. ‘And I end up stabbed in the prison showers as a grass. This bloke could fix that a piece of piss.’

  ‘I guess it’s the picture in the paper and on the telly then. Tomorrow. Think about how that will look. The very day after you spend a day and night in police custody… the day you appear in court. It’ll be obvious you grassed in exchange for a deal. Especially when I fix it with the magistrate for you to get a conditional discharge…’

  I stood up and Granger followed suit, leading the way out of the room. I paused at the door and looked back at Grantmore, who once more had his head in his hands. Beaten.

  ‘Sean. Make your choice. It’s either out there tomorrow, on your own, branded a grass with this man’s picture in the paper. Or take your chances with me trying to do my best to help you, and with him locked up. The better the evidence you give me against him and his gang, the more likely he stays locked up. It’s no contest. Think about it, Sean. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’

  ‘Don’t go, Darnley. Let’s sort it out now… you’re right,’ he implored.

  Beaten.

  ‘See you in a couple of hours. Warder, please show Mr Grantmore back to his cell.’

  Twenty-Three

  Early Evening That Same Day

  Monday, 8th February 1999

  One down. One to go. The officers investigating the incident at Simone’s were of the view that there was insufficient evidence to charge Holland with any crime. He was the victim. Grantmore had injured him. The two witnesses, albeit somewhat reluctantly, fearing for their contract, had said so in sworn statements. Holland had cooperated fully; claiming he had found out the job with J & S Renovations was actually for Grantmore well after he had tendered for it. He’d thought long and hard about accepting once he knew but decided he had to move on, and that’s why he had gone to the site to meet him – to offer the olive branch. The officers had told him that Grantmore was convinced that he had blinded him and was now stalking him with the intent to do far worse. He had calmly denied the attack at Nicole’s, apologised for losing his temper in court and suggested that they contact me to confirm that I had thoroughly investigated the attack and proved it wasn’t him. Cocky bastard.

  The two experienced interviewers were of the view that everything he had said was utter bollocks. They believed that Holland had indeed stuck that syringe in Grantmore’s eye and were both convinced that he was intent on continuing his quest for retribution. His little act in Simone’s was just a well-thought-out attempt to wind his intended victim up. He’d never intended for Grantmore to be arrested and charged with an assault upon him, but he was now capitalising upon that outcome by refusing to give evidence against him, thus “on paper” at least, appearing to be genuine in his desire to move on.

  And sure enough, the local DI and the Crown Prosecution Service agreed no charge would stick and he was due to be released. Granger and I were now waiting for him in the same interview room in which we had spoken to Grantmore. I was on a roll. I felt I now had Grantmore where I wanted him and now had the perfect opportunity to officially warn off Holland – which should satisfy Wilde. Furthermore, if Granger went along with this, knowing what he knew, the threat he posed to me was virtually eliminated. It was definitely all coming together.

  There was a knock on the door and the warder showed Holland into the room, and he sat in the same chair previously occupied by his target. He looked content and at ease. The exact opposite of Grantmore. As I once again looked into those ice-cold blue eyes, my confidence of just seconds ago disappeared.

  Pulling myself together, I introduced PC Granger and explained the reason for my speaking to him and issued a strongly worded warning about his future behaviour. He sat listening without interruption but when I’d finished, he decided to continue with the bullshit he had trotted out in interview. I had obviously anticipated this stance but for my peace of mind I needed to know he had truly got the message and this vendetta would now stop.

  I leant forward, arms on the scratched desk. ‘Quit the crap, Mr Holland. I know you blinded him. I just couldn’t prove it. I know that today you were continuing your vendetta. I need to know you are taking my warning to stay away from Grantmore seriously. There is no tape running and you are not under caution.’

  He smiled and shook his head. ‘Who is this young fellow?’ He nodded towards Granger. ‘Why is he here, if you truly want to talk openly?’

  Those eyes once again locked onto mine.

  Looking back, I overcompensated for the deep unease he was creating in me. I had been naïve to think he’d just roll over, and ill-prepared for how to proceed if he didn’t.

  ‘This is PC Peter Granger. He uncovered the evidence that can prove you stuck that syringe in Grantmore’s eye.’

  Granger stiffened at my side. I hadn’t told him that I might reveal what we knew and how. Because I hadn’t planned to. It just came out in an effort to knock Holland off track.

  Even as the words left my mouth, I had not formulated my next move.

  Holland just shook his head and smiled.

  I found myself reaching for my briefcase that was on the floor beside my chair and pulling out the envelope that Morley had originally given to Granger containing the photographs on the fire escape. I laid it on the table and folded my arms on top of it.

  For the first time, a shadow of doubt crossed Holland’s face. But he was good; it disappeared almost immediately and the smile reappeared as the eyes re-engaged.

  ‘That the evidence then?’ He actually chuckled.

  ‘Yes. I couldn’t prove it. But I can now.’ I tapped the envelope. By now, my brain had engaged and those photos were not leaving the envelope.

  Again, totally unplanned, I said to Granger, ‘Go find us a hot drink, please. What do you prefer, Mr Holland?’

  ‘Strong black coffee, please.’

  Yet again, PC Granger impressed me by saying nothing, getting up and leaving the room.

  Once he had left the room, I continued, still flying by the seat of my pants: ‘I know you have no previous convictions, Mr Holland. You have no track record of violence.’

  ‘None. As I say, my actions in court were totally out of character.’

  ‘What about Ralph Harrison, the ex-Para? What’s his track record like?’

  He was good. He merely feigned a confused look.

  ‘I’m a good copper, Mr Holland. I investigate stuff. I’ve investigated you. I know who you really are and what you were.’

  I sat back, looking relaxed, with my fingers tapping on the blue envelope. Holland’s eyes now literally boring into mine. If looks could kill.

  I decided to change tack. ‘When I came to see you after you and Lisa were arrested, I sensed that you knew I’d arranged for Lisa to fake her collapse. You know I stuck my neck out to caution you for the assault in Crown Court. You can trust me… I’m on your side.’

  He said nothing.

  ‘If I wanted to get you for blinding Grantmore, I could. Trust me on that too.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Having stuck my neck out twice for you, I now need you to end your quest for revenge… or I can’t protect you anymore.’

  He too must have decided to change tack. ‘I don’t need protection. He does.’

  ‘If you don’t back off, you will go to prison.’

  I tapped the blue envelope again. I still
had no intention of showing him the contents. I was banking on the fact that by being able to quote his true identity, he would surmise I wasn’t bluffing.

  He called my bluff. ‘Show me.’

  Oh well – shit or bust as they say. I pulled out the photographs and left them on the desk. They were still in the correct sequence. He picked them up and quickly scanned each one before placing them back on the desk on top of the envelope. He sat thinking for about thirty seconds.

  ‘Who took them?’

  ‘That’s not important. They prove you did it.’

  ‘But you’ve not used them. Why not? Either you are neglecting your duty in a most serious fashion… or… you can’t use them in evidence.’

  He paused, thinking.

  ‘They’re dodgy in some way… illegally obtained.’

  I was shocked by how quickly he had worked that out. For the first time, I wondered exactly what his background in the Paras had been. He had a fascinating skill set.

  ‘Arrived through the post this morning. Anonymous tip-off.’ I had similar skills.

  He awarded me a wry smile.

  We both sat back, sizing each other up. I was wondering if I dared to trust him. Tell him more, to get him to trust me more.

  The silence was ended in a way I did not expect. He suddenly shot forward in his chair and brought his clenched fists slamming down onto the desk. I shot bolt upright, instinctively trying to push the chair back to get out of his reach, forgetting it was bolted to the floor and ending up just looking, and feeling, stupid.

  But he wasn’t intent on violence; he was just emotionally fraught. He looked at me as if about to apologise and in a quiet and resigned voice said, ‘I can’t back off. I can’t forgive him for what he did to Lisa and what it’s done to me. He has to pay. So use the photos and charge me. When I get out of prison I’ll start again.’

  Now what? My turn to sit and think.

  ‘If Grantmore had been convicted and sent to prison for what he did to Lisa, would you have been satisfied? Or would this lust for revenge have just continued when he got out? What would have been enough? Three years… five… ten?’

  ‘If that jury had believed Lisa and convicted him and he’d gone to prison, I think I’d have accepted it. I don’t know for sure but I think I would. But he didn’t go to prison and he’s laughing… he’s not even sorry. I need retribution.’

  ‘So an eye for an eye literally wasn’t enough? You want him dead. Is that all that will satisfy you?’

  ‘That’s too easy for him. I want him wrecked. I want him frightened. I want him squirming. I never intended to get him arrested and charged this morning. I just wanted him to know I was out there, watching him. I just want him to suffer like he’s made Lisa… and me… suffer.’

  ‘What if I could get him a lengthy sentence for something else?’

  Again, we both went quiet. I had certainly not intended to go this far, but I had to solve the Holland problem. I felt confident I could keep Granger and Morley quiet, and Wilde could be won over by Holland’s agreement to leave Grantmore alone. I had little doubt now that Grantmore would give me the names and some evidence. I was nearly home and dry, so the extra risk was worth it.

  ‘You agree to leave Grantmore alone for the next two weeks and I’ll keep these photographs to myself. Within those two weeks, Grantmore will be charged with serious crimes that will get him a lengthy jail sentence. But if you continue to stalk him, you’re likely to fuck all that up. But I need your word.’

  ‘And I need more detail. You thought he’d go to prison for raping my daughter. Convince me and I’ll agree.’

  Although it never struck me at the time, I think I must have intuitively taken Russ Holland into my trust based upon his army record and his devotion to his daughter. I’d already revealed too much, but now I went further in a last-ditch effort to win him over. I explained how I knew Grantmore was involved in the robberies and murders and that I had manipulated him into a position where I was convinced he would grass up his accomplices – why he now had no choice. I emphasised how he too would go to prison for a lengthy period and spend it watching his back – exactly how Holland wanted him – frightened, exposed and anguished.

  Once again, his intuitive understanding impressed me. ‘You’ve done a deal with him to get him to grass.’

  What exactly had he done in the Paras?

  I explained how he was between a rock and a hard place and I was conning him. There would be no immunity, no words to the judge, no lighter sentence. I was in control.

  ‘So you’re asking me to trust you but in the same breath you’re telling me that you’re asking Grantmore to trust you, while intending to double-cross him?’

  ‘He’s a vicious thug. You’re a wronged father. I think I’ve already exhibited whose side I’m on several times now.’ I tapped the blue envelope. ‘With these photographs especially.’

  He sat quietly thinking.

  I tried again, judging we were on the verge of agreement. I reiterated how his enemy would be exposed as a grass and spend years in prison – years looking over his shoulder.

  ‘The thought of him in prison waiting for them to get even would be justice for Lisa. Not what I planned but as good as I’m going to get.’

  He held out his hand to shake on it but suddenly pulled back.

  ‘Hang on, though. All this depends on him giving you enough to charge them… and you having enough to charge him.’

  I took the final step.

  ‘Look, Russ, I need you onside now. Things are coming to a head. The gang have asked Grantmore to set up another job for next week and supply them with a local driver. I can’t let that crime happen. Someone else could get killed. That young lad up in Ponteland… his mum and dad lost their son. I want your help… as a father yourself. Keep out of Grantmore’s face. Let me do my job and use him to get to this lot before someone else gets hurt.’

  He sat back. Thinking again. Then he told me more details about his army background and made me a proposition.

  *

  While the three of us drank our coffee, Granger played the part he now knew he was there to play – witness to the official warning. Holland’s humble agreement to comply was as equally stage-managed. Granger then fetched the warder to arrange for Holland’s release and to request Grantmore be brought back to the interview room.

  While we waited, I made sure the young officer was securely onside. ‘Look, Peter, I wanted you here with me today so that I have a witness about what Grantmore wanted to see me about. As far as our first chat with him goes, I need you to agree that all he did was rant about Holland and then test me out for a deal if he was to admit his part in our jobs. You didn’t hear any admissions whatsoever. No grounds for a caution or arrest. You okay with that?’

  ‘You know I am.’

  ‘He’s sweating now and that’s why I’ve left him to think. I don’t want him clamming up. These bastards will carry on and hurt someone else. I know him and he’ll only open up if I’m alone with him. When I know he’s going to give me what I need, I’ll start with PACE, as if he’s just opened up. So as far as you’re concerned last time, when we were both in there, he said he’d only talk to me alone. That’s best.’

  ‘Best for me? Or best for you?’

  ‘Both of us… if we are okay with each other now. Are we okay?’

  ‘The longer this has gone on, the more I know that I’m guilty by association. If I’d told someone straight away about Morley and how you treated him, I’d have been on the side of the righteous. If I’d handed in the photos of Holland immediately, I’d have been fine… but now I don’t think the argument that I was only obeying orders, or you were bullying me would wash, do you?’

  I didn’t respond. Just gave him a wry smile.

  ‘The way you’ve sorted Beedham’s complaint out and stalled my suspension, I
realise that you’d have done your best for me all along, without my pathetic attempts to coerce you. While I was sitting outside just now, I was thinking I should say sorry.’

  Again, I just smiled.

  ‘My marriage isn’t going to work. I can see that now. But I need this job and I need you to help me keep it. Will you speak up for me at my disciplinary hearing for smacking Knaggs?’

  ‘I’ll do more than that. I’m going to be telling them how it was your initiative that detected these jobs. There’s no way they are going to want to get rid of you. Maybe post you to Scunthorpe or even Goole… but trust me, your job will be safe by the time I’ve done singing your praises.’

  He smiled and I felt confident we had reached a point of mutual respect and understanding.

  I reiterated what I wanted in the statement from Graham Morley so as to secure the evidence of the photograph at the Silver Cod. We knew it would be upsetting for Morley to explain his background with Grantmore and thus why he had taken the photo, but it was essential. I also acknowledged that Granger would need to introduce in his own statement how we had both met Morley, how I’d messed up and why he had kept in touch with him to build intelligence on Grantmore and thus spotted the significance of the photograph.

  ‘Build up your part. You really did break the case open. Grantmore has admitted the bloke in the photo is who we are after. But try and be diplomatic when you describe my original cock-up… please.’

  He afforded himself a smug grin. ‘And the photographs of Holland?’

  ‘Make Morley understand that Grantmore is our target… not Holland. Tell him Grantmore will be going to prison for a long time… and he will be safe. I’m confident you can sell this to him.’

  ‘But you’re going to do a deal with him, aren’t you?’

  ‘There’s not going to be a deal. You have to trust me.’

  I was acutely aware that I was telling everyone to trust me, and even to me it was wearing a bit thin.

  There was a knock on the door and the warder ushered Grantmore into the room. He still looked beaten. Granger left the room as Grantmore flopped heavily into his chair.