Faraday 02 Network Virus

by Michael Hillier

  “Actually that doesn’t surprise me,” said Paulson. “We interviewed the bloke yesterday and he claimed he was desperately short of money and that was the reason for kidnapping his daughter, in order to get more cash out of de Billiere. Apparently he’s been a big spender and especially likes a flutter on the gee-gees.”

  “What - more than a hundred thousand a year?”

  “It would appear so,” Strafford paused. “I’m not too worried about how he spent it. What I want to know is how he earned it - particularly the quarter of a million which he received two years ago. I take it that all the payments came from de Billiere.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “I think we’re going to have a very interesting interview with the guy when we see him later this morning.”

  “It certainly sounds like it.” Richard Harris sounded cheerful. “I’d be grateful if you would give me a ring later to let me know what information you get out of him. Some of the stuff he lets slip could be very useful to us in the investigation of de Billiere’s affairs.”

  “OK. I’ll let you know what we feel we can release. Thank you very much Richard for your help in this. It’s much appreciated.”

  “My pleasure. I’ll e-mail you the detailed list of transactions on Bostock’s account. You should get it in the next half-hour.” He paused. “Of course you won’t disclose the source of your information to anybody else without our consent.”

  “No. Of course that’s agreed. It’ll only be if the CPS want to use it as part of the prosecution that the information will need to be made public. In that case you’ll obviously be warned beforehand so that you can make any representations you wish to them.”

  “Thanks for that. I think we’re closing in on these buggers. Tally ho! Stafford.” He rang off.

  Now all Stafford Paulson was waiting for was the return of Charlotte so that they could restart their questioning of Gary Bostock.

  - 40 -

  As soon as Charlotte got back to Torquay Police Station Paulson said to her, “We’re actually being chased by Bostock’s solicitor to get on with the interview.”

  “Well, I never. Perhaps he wants to confess all.”

  “That’s not very likely,” he said gloomily. “His lawyer’s a chap called Paul Simpson. He’s a young fellow trying to prove how clever he is compared to the plodding police. I had a lot of trouble with him on a previous case a few months ago.”

  “Never mind, Stafford. I think he’d have to be Einstein to get his client out of the kidnapping charge.”

  “It’s not the case of how he treated his daughter that I’m worried about. I agree that one’s sewn up. But I feel it in my bones that Bostock’s the one who killed Joanne de Billiere, almost certainly paid for by her husband. I don’t want him to escape that one.”

  He told her about his phone call from Richard Harris and showed her the list of transactions on Bostock’s account which had just been received by e-mail from the accountant in London.

  Charlotte studied them briefly. “I agree he’s going to have trouble explaining those big payments two years ago. And I’ve picked up something which I think will help you. We’ll get him in the interview room in a few minutes. But first I need to tell you about what came up in my meeting with Lord Harry this morning.”

  Briefly she summarised what she’d been told about Greg Mallinson.

  “I was thinking about it in the car coming back,” she said. “It’s clear that young Greg has been reporting direct to Lasham behind our backs and getting his instructions from the Chief Super.”

  “Bloody hell! What on earth’s been going on.” Stafford Paulson didn’t often swear.

  She patted him on the arm. “Well, that won’t be happening any more now. I think we’re well rid of the pair of them.” She paused. “However that leads me on to the next bit of news.”

  She told him about the proposed staff changes and managed to get him to agree to John Prendergast’s promotion to sergeant. Stafford said he also had a young uniformed constable in mind who they could offer the post of DC.

  “He actually approached me a few weeks ago and I said I’d see what I could do for him,” he said.

  “OK. I’ll go and talk to Blackwood after we’ve disposed of Bostock.” She grinned at him. “It looks as though your being outranked in Torquay is going to be mercifully short.”

  “Do you know,” he admitted, “when I first heard you were coming with your new-fangled computer I wasn’t at all pleased, but now I’m really grateful that you came. You’ve reawakened the enthusiasm in a tired old detective.”

  Charlotte felt absurdly pleased as she replied, “I think you’re a damn good detective, Stafford. And I’ll be leaving you with the computer and a lad who knows how to operate it as your second-in-command.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, “but I won’t feel I can treat John as a colleague to discuss things with in the same way that you and I have.”

  “You must treat John as your new colleague. One day you may be able to hand over to him.”

  “I’ll try.” The gruff voice also seemed to have been touched by the sentimentality of the exchange. He took a breath. “Well, I suppose we’d better get stuck into this interview.”

  Five minutes later they were seated in Interview Room 3 opposite Bostock and his solicitor.

  Simpson opened his attack straightaway. “I must protest about you interviewing my client yesterday afternoon without a solicitor being present.”

  Charlotte smiled coolly. “It’s on record that Mr Bostock was asked if he wanted a solicitor and he refused the offer.”

  “What’s more,” said Paulson, “there was no doubt about his guilt. The man was caught red-handed at the scene and the girl has confirmed he was her abductor.”

  “However you raised additional charges which my client had no reason to expect and you obtained a whole tranche of information from him which I would have advised him to withhold, if I had been present, until the charges were clarified,” protested the solicitor.

  The DI snorted. “It was all freely given. We didn’t use thumb-screws or any other device. And, as soon as he asked to be represented, the interview was terminated and his request was granted,”

  “That is not the point. You have obtained information from him that he was not legally required to give to you.”

  “The reason for those additional questions,” interposed Charlotte, “was because information has come in from other sources which makes it likely that your client will be facing even more serious charges than kidnapping and restraining a minor. The purpose of this morning’s interview is to investigate these possible charges.”

  “I’m not happy about this at all,” said Simpson.

  “Well, you may advise your client not to answer our questions. However I would remind you both that he is being interviewed under caution and we feel we have enough evidence to show that his silence would be likely to be construed as an admission of guilt.”

  “Huh!” The solicitor rolled his eyes. “Let’s see this so-called evidence.”

  “OK. Over to you, Stafford.”

  Paulson laid a copy of the list of transactions in front of Bostock. These had been e-mailed to him and he had only removed the identity of the sender. “Can you confirm that this is a correct record of the transactions passed through your Swiss bank account” (and he recited the number) “during the last thirteen or so years?”

  “Where’d you get this?” asked the man. “This is private information.”

  “Let me see that.” Simpson reached forward and picked up the list.

  “If you check with your bank,” said Paulson, “you will find that Swiss law now requires them to release information regarding bank accounts where there is evidence that the transactions are related to crimes carried out by the account holder.”

  “I want the interview to be suspended while I discuss this with my client,” said the solicitor who appeared to have known nothing about Bostock’s Swiss bank account.

&n
bsp; Paulson said, “We have copies of the account holder’s signature and can confirm that they are the same as Mr Bostock’s.”

  “Oh, don’t waste time,” said Bostock. “Course it’s my account.”

  “Thank you,” said Paulson. “You will note the first deposit opening the account is for fifty thousand pounds sterling. We can trace that payment as coming from a Mr Alfred de Billiere. Is that for your agreeing to marry Marion Philips as she then was?”

  “So what?” demanded Bostock. “That ain’t a crime.”

  “I’m establishing a pattern. Do you agree about that first payment?”

  “Yes - yes.”

  “After that there are a number of other payments, initially in the five thousand to eight thousand range and gradually increasing to twenty thousand. We presume these are the payments you mentioned yesterday which Alfred made to you in return for your agreeing to him spending periods of time having sex with your wife.”

  “This is the sort of comment I object to,” said Simpson.

  Paulson ignored him. “These payments ceased nearly three years ago. However then there came a group of three payments in a period of approximately six weeks for much larger amounts - just over a quarter of a million in total. These occurred at about the time that Alfred’s wife Joanne drowned. Can you explain what these payments were for?”

  Bostock looked at his solicitor. “Do I have to?”

  “Er -.” It seemed this was all new information as far as Simpson was concerned - information that his client had failed to mention in their earlier meeting. “We will not reply to that question at the moment but we are not necessarily refusing to reply when you have presented us with the rest of your evidence.”

  “Very well,” Paulson continued. “The fact is that you have satisfactorily explained all the previous payments. However you admit that Alfred had stopped seeing Marion well before the last three payments were made and this is confirmed by your wife. These payments totalled a quarter of a million pounds, which is a lot more than he was paying you for the luxury of a few days sex with your wife. They were obviously for a much more important service which you carried out for him. We believe he was giving you this money to get rid of his wife for him. Do you admit you carried out this service for him?”

  “We will not reply to that at present,” said the solicitor.

  “OK. When you met de Billiere last Wednesday to ask for more money it is our contention that you threatened to expose your part in the death of his first wife. You said that unless he agreed to pay you a substantial additional annual sum you would disclose the fact that you were paid by him to do it. Faced with this possibility, he agreed to pay you fifty thousand a year and you cooked up this plan between you to kidnap his daughter to provide a cover for these payments. You agreed that, after a few years in gaol on the less serious charge of kidnapping with the reduction for good behaviour, you would be able to come out and be set up for life. Is that correct?”

  “Please continue,” said Simpson.

  Paulson coughed and took a sip of water. “However we have evidence that places you on the Sarah Jane very close to the time of Joanne de Billiere’s death.”

  “A bloody fag-end,” burst out Bostock.

  “We will be able to show that the serious probability exists that the Gauloises cigarette end places you on that boat on the day of her death. We are confident that a jury will agree, with all the other evidence, that you almost certainly murdered Joanne de Billiere.”

  “What other evidence?”

  “The most damaging piece came into my possession this morning,” interposed Charlotte. “I was discussing this matter with your wife when she recalled receiving a telephone call from you asking her to drive your car, which she didn’t normally drive, to pick you up in the car park on Slapton Sands which is only a few hundred yards from where you beached the Sarah Jane after disposing of Joanne de Billiere at sea the previous night.”

  There was a complete silence while this latest piece of information was digested by everybody. Even DI Paulson hadn’t been aware of the bombshell that Charlotte was about to release.

  Paul Simpson was the first to recover. “Before my client answers any of these accusations I would like to have a further private consultation with him.”

  “Very well.” Charlotte rose to her feet. “DI Paulson and I will withdraw, the recording machine will be switched off and you may use this room. The door will be locked but we will post a police constable outside the door and you can knock on it when you are ready for the interview to continue. However I would like to remind you of two points. One is that a satisfactory admission of guilt may be more successful in the court than a denial. A second is that the man who conspired to arrange the death of his wife, Alfred de Billiere, should not be allowed to escape scot free because your client fails to provide the information which would convict him.” She tapped her colleague on the shoulder. “Come on, Stafford. Let’s have a cup of tea.”

  She also bore in mind that she had to apologise to him for inadvertently keeping him in the dark about Marion’s information.

  It was nearly half an hour later that they were asked to return to the interview room. Everybody took their seats and the recording machine was switched on again.

  “Right,” began Simpson, “I have explained to Mr Bostock what his alternative courses of action are and where they are likely to end up. As a result he has decided to make a clean breast of what actually happened on the Sarah Jane that night. Carry on, Gary.”

  Bostock put on a look of sincerity. “Yeah, well I admit I was asked by Alfred de Billiere to dispose of his wife. He offered me a quarter of a million to do it - a hundred grand up front and the rest when her death was confirmed. I was seriously short of cash at the time, not having had anything from him for more than a year, and I owed a lot to some men in Hong Kong who were becoming restless, if you know what I mean. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of them blokes. They can be a right lousy bunch of sods.”

  “Did de Billiere suggest to you how you might ‘dispose’ of his wife, as you so delicately put it?” asked Charlotte.

  “He told me Joanne spent a lot of time on the Sarah Jane. He said he’d been having her watched and she’d got a fancy man. What he said was that this guy often turned up in the late afternoon and they went below and had sex in one of the cabins. He told me how I could get there first and take her out and drop her off, like.”

  “Do you mean that Alfred de Billiere actually proposed the way you should do it - that you should go on board the Sarah Jane, overpower Joanne, take the boat out to sea and throw her body overboard when you were well out to sea?”

  “Yeah, something like that. He said she wasn’t much of a swimmer so she wouldn’t be able to get back to the shore if I went out a mile or so. He said it would be best to wait till it was dark before I did it, so nobody would notice.”

  “And is that what you actually did?” asked Paulson.

  “No.” He shook his head vigorously. “It didn’t work out like that at all.”

  “So how did it work out?”

  “Well, what I did first was go up on the pier above the marina and find a place where I could watch the boat.”

  “The Sarah Jane?”

  “That’s right. It was nice weather at the time and I could see the bird stretched out on the boat - the Sarah Jane - in a skimpy bikini with most of her tits showing. She was a tasty bird, I can tell you, even though she was going on fifty.”

  “So how long did you watch her for?”

  “Must have been about four days. Till the forecast said the weather was going to turn rough.”

  “And what did you see - other than Joanne in her bikini?”

  “Yeah, well.” He licked his lips. “Every evening about six this bloke turns up. At about ten to six our Joanne ups and disappears below. I suppose she was getting herself ready.” He grinned salaciously. “Well, when the bloke turns up he goes straight below and they obviously has it away
for two or three hours. They’ve got some staying power, I’ll give them that.”

  “So what happened next?”

  “Sometimes the bloke comes out and goes off on his own and she tidies up a bit and locks up and goes home. Sometimes they goes off together - but not arm in arm or anything like that - just walking side by side. I followed the bloke on his own one night and he went into town to the council offices. I asked the bird at reception who he was and she said he was a councillor called Lionel Hillman.”

  “What was the purpose of following him?”

  “Well, the next day - the day before the weather broke - I went down to the boat where she was sunning herself and I told her, ever so polite like, that I was working for Lionel Hillman and he’d asked me to give her a message that he was coming earlier this evening - about five o’clock. That was because he had a special meeting and he could only stay an hour so could she be ready earlier.” He sniggered. “She swallowed it like a lamb. So I walked away and went up on the pier to watch her. Sure enough, at about ten to five she ups and disappears down below.”

  He paused and looked round at the others with a degree of triumph on his face. “Of course it was easy after that. I went back to the boat and climbed on board. The keys were still stuck in the patio door to the main lounge. I went below and saw that she was stretched out on the bed with nothing on but one of them negligee things. I was tempted, I can tell you.”

  “So what happened then?” Stafford Paulson seemed fascinated by the tale.

  “When she saw me she said, ‘What are you doing here?’ I said, ‘You’ll find out soon enough’. I shut the door on her and locked it and went up to the bridge. As I told you, I know how to operate these big cruisers. I put the key in the ignition and pressed the button and the engines started first thing. Alfred always kept his equipment in good nick.”

  “What was Joanne doing while you were up on the bridge?” asked Charlotte.

  “Oh, she started to get annoyed and bang on the door but none of the boats near us were manned and when the engines started up you couldn’t really hear much else. So I went down on the afterdeck, cast off the hawsers and pulled up the boarding ladder. Then I went back up on the bridge and started to gently motor out of the marina. Nobody took a scrap of notice.”