‘Good Lord, no. It’s much more damaging than that.’
‘What, for goodness sake?’ She was irritable, probably the stress of having her picture of the world turned upside-down.
‘His daughter is a nun and her mother is a Mother Superior.’
‘This is no time for silly bloody jokes, Jake.’ She was looking at me. ‘Oh Christ! It’s true, isn’t it?’
‘Just imagine what his enemies and the press would do with that information.’
‘Christ, Jake, why the hell did you tell me this?’
‘Ah, sexy solicitor, you now know what you may be in the middle of and won’t talk to anybody, will you?’
She shook her head then tipped it on one side, thinking. ‘Can you prove this?’
‘Um no, the public evidence is circumstantial.’
‘How do you know then?’
‘I got involved with the Mabry’s part of The Family when in Bolivia. It was all about gas contracts, silver and drugs and I know that what I’ve outlined is fact.’
Sarah was just looking at me with wide-open eyes. ‘You were involved with a criminal gang in Bolivia. Are you pulling my leg? In the past couple of minutes I’ve heard enough stuff to make Ian Fleming’s Goldfinger sound like a second-rate criminal turd and you like a James Bond.’
‘I’m just telling you like it is.’
‘You’re just telling me that most of the people ruling this Sceptred Isle are criminals, and nuns have babies and the father is the Home Secretary. Jake, I want you to be sane.’
‘Look! Powerful people look after powerful people. Honest, powerful people need allies, particularly those with political clout.’
‘I don’t believe it. No, I do believe it, I just don’t want to.’
‘Okay, let’s look at another wing of The Family. Harvey Cannon, the city guy; have you heard of him?’
‘Vaguely. My brother was at university with his son or maybe it was his grandson.’
‘He married Rupert Carmichael’s sister, Bethany. This guy, Harvey Cannon, is Duke of Bartonshire. He’s a big wig in the financial world of investment, venture capital and the like. He currently manages the financial and business end of The Family. Mainly legitimate but the rumour is they’ve a large holding in gambling throughout Europe and the Far East and he does a little money laundering and banking for various syndicates.’
‘But he’s not in the government.’
‘He’s in the House of Lords.’
‘Why did you just tell me about Harvey Cannon?’
‘Just to give you a feel of the extent of The Family.’
She was shaking her head and at the same time, her powerful intellect was processing the information. I stayed silent.
‘Christ, Jake, Mabry can’t be a criminal.’
‘I was in Bolivia with Frances; she was our section head. Mabry was in Bolivia. Remember, Mabry is the political and muscle end of The Family. He’s the link with the Mafia and the Bolivians. In Bolivia he was doing a big deal with the Bolivians and the Mafia on oil, gas and drugs. It was his Mafia contacts that killed Frances by injecting her with some weird disease.’
Sarah was shaking her head.
‘Okay?’ I asked.
She nodded. ‘How close are you?’
‘To whom? To what?’
‘This Family lot.’
‘As I said, some members owe me favours.’
‘Including two nuns?’
‘Yes. The way I see it they owe me favours.’
‘No wonder you’re in prison, Jake.’
I just couldn’t help smiling.
‘But Mabry is the Home Secretary.’
‘My word, Sarah, you’ve good general knowledge and are repeating yourself.’
She smiled. ‘I mean, you’re saying that the Home Secretary is a criminal.’
‘Well, what I’m saying is that he has a lot of very dodgy people working for him, but I bet you’d be hard pressed to tie them in directly. From his political position he can, of course, ensure that the empire is well directed and he has some senior police officers who, shall we say, do little jobs for him.’
‘But this is outrageous.’ She was now bristling.
I laughed at her naivety. She misread my laugh and said, ‘You’re pulling my leg.’
‘I wish I was. Now cut along and see Sir Barrow Jones for me. Remember, I want information on Peter Jackson: who has contacted him, his visitors and his relationship to The Family.’
‘Yes, okay, you bastard.’ There was a slight edginess in her now. She rang the bell and Senior Officer James came in to escort her out of the prison.
35
Senior Officer James came in. ‘You’re going in the hole I’m afraid, Jake.’
‘The hole?’
‘The governor has concerns so you’ll be placed in a cell close to the sick bay and put on suicide watch.’
‘He thinks I’m a suicide risk?’
‘No, it’s just a way of isolating you, keeping an eye on you and avoiding putting you in the segregation unit.’
‘What you mean is it avoids the proper recorded process.’
‘That’s right, Jake.’ Sarah took a step forward.
‘No, Sarah, it’s okay.’ I turned to Officer James, ‘Wonderful; do I get fed first?’
‘Haven’t you eaten?’
‘No and I expect the police haven’t eaten either and nor has Sarah here.’
‘Let’s get that fixed first then, Jake.’ She made a call on her radio.
Officer James led the way to the dining room, stomping along in front of us. There was no way that she could walk; her legs were made for stomping. We followed her towards the dining hall and I was humming the tune to the Nancy Sinatra song, ‘These boots were made for walking’.
Sarah gave me a poke in the ribs, and said, ‘I know what you’re thinking, Jake Robinson,’ and she laughed quietly.
We arrived just seconds before the police officers, and they joined Sarah, Officer James and me. They really should have sat at another table but they seemed quite happy to sit with us. Well, I was the one they shouldn’t sit with.
It was odd how all institutional kitchens smelled of boiled cabbage. I don’t suppose they boil more cabbage per cubic metre of space than the average house but by some mysterious, institutional means, boiled cabbage permeates the atmosphere and then is wafted through the whole building.
‘How’s the investigation going, Inspector?’
‘You know I can’t tell you that, Jake.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘What’s the food like here?’
‘Toni’s on at the moment so it should be fantastic.’
‘He’s a good cook then?’
‘Toni was one of the best chefs in London. He was at The Langham when they arrested him. He can make baked beans taste heavenly.’
With that, a couple of trustees arrived with sausage and mash with onion gravy and baked beans.
‘See, he’s even done beans for you.’
Each plate was identical and a delight to observe. In the centre of the table was placed a mustard bowl.
‘He also makes his own mustard,’ said Officer James.
We all ate in silence until one of the officers said, ‘I know I shouldn’t ask but what’s he in for?’
‘Multiple homicide; he was a serial killer. You’ll be pleased to know he hasn’t killed anyone since he’s been in here. Well, perhaps he has but nobody’s been able to pin anything on him.’
‘Oh,’ said the constable.
Another asked, ‘How did he kill people then?’
‘You really want to know?’
‘Um, Yes.’ He didn’t sound too sure.
‘Toni poisoned his family, his wife’s family and a lot of people related to him and friends of his dad.’
There was a shocked silence. You could feel the tension in the air and everybody but Officer James and me had stopped eating. They were all wondering if I was telling the truth.
‘You’re joking, right?’ said the young police constable.
‘No,’ said Officer James. ‘Toni can make poisons out of innocuous ingredients.’ Officer James and I continued to eat and Sarah was tentatively picking at her food. The others were silent, looking at me, when Toni came out of the kitchen. He looked around the table.
‘Jake’s told you why I’m in here then.’
There was a silence.
‘Well, they did ask, Toni.’
‘Let me tell you folks, Jake probably told you the truth but not the whole truth. I only killed those who abused me as a child and those that knew and did nothing. What you have folks is the best sausage and mash you’re ever going to get and the other thing I bet he didn’t tell you was I only poisoned puddings.’ He laughed and went back towards the kitchen.
‘Is it true he only poisoned puddings?’
‘I’m pleased to report that’s what he says and what the evidence says,’ said Officer James.
‘Ah well,’ said the inspector, ‘it’s too late now and he’s right; this is the best sausage and mash I’m ever likely to have.’ With that, he tucked in and the others continued to tentatively eat what was in front of them.
‘We don’t let him make puddings, though, just in case.’
‘That’s a shame. I was going to have some treacle pudding,’ said the inspector, pointing at the menu board.
‘Oh, you can if you like. Mac made that. Dab hand at treacle pudding is Mac; Toni taught him,’ I said.
‘Sod it,’ said the young constable. ‘I’ll have some; it’s got to be better than the stuff at the factory.’
Officer James got a call on her radio. ‘Jake, it’s been decided that you can go back to your cell.’
I looked at the inspector. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s amazing what a search can reveal, Jake.’ He smiled a wry smile and shook his head. He still wasn’t sure he had the information. His instinct was telling him one thing and the evidence was saying another.
‘Thank you, Inspector.’
I was walking back to my cell when Tom, the finder, appeared at my side. He’d a way of coming up to you sideways so it looked like he was just walking past but was in fact closing with you. He spoke out of the side of his mouth, a trait I associated with borstal and the like.
‘You wanted to know about visitors, Captain.’
‘Uh ha.’
‘Jase had some normal visits but only one of interest: a woman, named Celia Foley. She’s a “Ms” and the address was Bulford, Wiltshire: a military address. I asked a friend to do some digging. It would seem the address indicated that she was a military cop. She visited him twice.’
‘Might be a girlfriend.’
‘Might be, Captain. The other visitors for Mr Wharton were just his normal routine ones. You want to know why Jase was bumped off don’t you, Captain.’
‘Yes I do, Tom.’
‘If I was you, Captain, I wouldn’t try to find out.’
‘Why not, Tom?’
‘I’ve a feeling that it’s pretty heavy.’ With that, he wheeled away from me. I just wondered if there was information available or whether Tom was reading between the lines.
36
A couple of days later, I climbed the stairs to our cell and was knackered. And why shouldn’t I be? I had worked hard with my group of ne’er-do-wells and they were doing just great. The difference in such a short time from their disinterest, was amazing; interest was something they hadn’t previously dared to show through the distrust; I had been a policeman so distrust of me was natural – what convicted criminal would like a policeman, even one who’s in prison? Some clung to their old tried and tested views, but some shifted their views as they noticed the dissimilarity with other approaches and they discerned that they were actually learning. Then they discovered that I was actually human in their terms. Now they gave me great difficulties. They were demanding of me to help them and I was struggling. Yes, I could read and write, but how to help them? I had developed an approach and a plan but I lacked teaching experience. They knew that and some were actually making allowances, but it was hard, very hard, as I hadn’t studied English since I was at school and while I knew what to do, almost as an instinct, explaining the English language was difficult. So, back to my cell to plough on through The English Way, a book I had found in the prison library first published in 1925, but I had the 1958 edition. Mind you, I did have Strictly English by Simon Heffer, which I had selected because in the preliminary notes it had a heading that said ‘A word about sex’. In my ignorance, I jumped to the conclusion that this would interest my sex-starved students only to discover that it was all about gender in the English language. Still, I found it a great book and I found The Penguin Guide to Punctuation a godsend, not for my students but for me. I had never really thought about punctuation until I was faced with the problem of whether to use a comma or a semicolon and how to explain it. I know that probably sounds daft but until you have to explain something you just do it, often without knowing why.
When I got to our cell Harry was sitting on his bunk and we had a visitor who was introduced to me as Mo. I had seen him around but never actually spoken to him, but I knew his name. Mo (I assumed his name was actually Mohammed as he looked to be of Pakistani decent; well, more likely than Indian, given the assumption about his name) was a lawyer; well, he had been. Apparently he’d been offered the teaching job I had inherited but the Caucasian and Afro-Caribbean prisoners had rejected him so that was that then. I understood his problem, as I was also an untouchable as an ex-policeman.
Mo was tall, dark, bald and skinny. He wore large glasses perched on his nose through which his black eyes peered under thick eyebrows and over his long hooked nose.
Harry explained the situation. Mo wanted advice. He was in Peasmarsh as a Cat B prisoner. He claimed he was innocent, set up by some CID detectives because he’d been the solicitor for a series of groups of Pakistanis accused of a range of crimes, including drug offences and sex offences, as well as the procurement of young girls, and they’d been defended successfully so the CID had him on conspiracy. He’d been a pain to the CID and as the accused had different barristers it had to be him putting in some form of fix, so they fixed him. Seemed unlikely to me, as I had only ever been a military policeman, but I had been involved with the Jason Phillips case and that was in my view a grave miscarriage of justice. Well, the second case was, and the first one would have been if I hadn’t been around as the investigating officer and acting for the defence. I could have been in serious trouble if Corporal Mike Munro hadn’t pleaded guilty at the second trial and as part of the deal got me exonerated even though I’d done nothing wrong. However, from the evidence I had, neither had Mike.
‘Mo, you’re a lawyer and I was a policeman; I can’t imagine how I can help you.’
‘Perhaps not, Jake, but I want you to listen to me so that I can get my head around the problem.’
‘Why me?’
‘Oh, simple: you kill people. It’s obviously you, yet the police can’t nail you. The guys in your class say you listen to them and I need that. I’ve tried talking to other people in here, to my solicitor and to my barrister, and they aren’t helpful to my thinking. I just want to think clearly but my thinking is muddled and one of your guys says you can do tricks with the mind and it helps thinking.’
I really wasn’t sure about that but Harry was nodding.
‘Mo, you can’t believe all you hear. I’ll listen but I won’t even pretend I can find solutions to whatever problem you have.’
‘I understand that.’
‘Okay, fire away.’
‘I was charged and found guilty of conspiracy. The conspiracy I was accused of was to, with others, produce false evidence in court so my clients would be found not guilty. Also, to conspire with others to intimidate witnesses for the prosecution and in one case suborn a juror and another was the kidnap of a child. I didn’t do these things.’
‘It would be easy
to have you charged with those things, but did they happen in practice even though you’d nothing to do with them?’
‘Probably.’
‘You don’t know they did, you just suspect they did?’
‘I suspect they did but I think that in one case the police were the ones who arranged the perjury and then accused me of conspiring and then stating that the person’s child had been kidnaped and got the person off.’
‘Remind me of what conspiracy is.’
‘Under section one of the Criminal Law Act 1977, it’s an offence if a person agrees with any other person or persons that a course of conduct shall be pursued which, if the agreement is carried out in accordance with their intentions, results in the commission of an offence.’
Okay, he wasn’t a rubbish lawyer; he knew his stuff.
‘So the offence in this case is perjury.’
‘No, well yes, but it goes further. The conspiracy I was accused of included the suborning of witnesses.’
‘Am I right in saying that is to persuade someone to tell lies in a court of law or to do something else that’s illegal, especially for money?’
‘Yes, I was accused of bribery, and witnesses for the prosecution claimed I had done that and the police claimed I had agreed to do that in conjunction with my clients who were on remand, and that’s conspiracy, but real evidence isn’t required for conspiracy. I didn’t do these things. Lies were told against me. You don’t have to be seen talking to a co-conspirator or taking part in any action as is normal in a criminal case; it relies on common sense deductions that the jury can accept. I was lied about.’
I was confused. I wasn’t sure whether it was because I didn’t fully understand or it was the way Mo was telling me things. Let’s have another go. ‘So, some witnesses claimed you tried to bribe them or did bribe them. This would have occurred at some regular meeting such as your conversations with your clients or defence witnesses, so nothing odd would appear such as meeting in a pub, for example. One of the instances was the kidnap of a child.’
He nodded.
‘How were you stuck with that one?’
Staying Alive Page 18