Gideon's risk

by J. J Marric

  Lee was staring at a short, stocky man with a ruddy face, a man who looked as if he spent half his time out of doors, and who had very clear, pale blue eyes. This man glanced up suddenly and caught Lee's eyes. That was undoubtedly deliberate; and that was the kind of tactic that Percy Richmond would always employ. Richmond glanced next at Gideon, who stared at him blank-faced, and then turned for a word with Cuthbertson. Gideon looked at Lee.

  "The devil's gunning for me all right," Lee said. "Know what I think?"

  "Tell me."

  "They're going all out for the kill today. They don't want this to drag on; the longer it drags on the more we can say and do. They'll try to get the case dismissed today if they've a ghost of a chance."

  "Have a job," Gideon said.

  "Wouldn't like to say," said Lee. "I think they've got something up their sleeve, too. They wouldn't be so cocky if they hadn't. I'm as worried as hell, George, and yet—"

  "Forget the worry," Gideon urged, but the words seemed empty, even to him. "And yet what?"

  "There's still something about the morphine bottles," Lee said. "They're Zenten's, I've checked that, and yet—it's like something on the tip of my tongue. I hope to God I can get it off when Richmond's tearing my guts out."

  Gideon thought: "I hope I did the right thing by giving him this job." He made himself study the magistrate's sharp features, and then waited for the door from the cells to open; Borgman was a few minutes later than expected, and there was a hush of expectancy; this pause had probably been laid on for effect. Cuthbertson was regally confident, and Richmond looked as if he were in a mood to brush aside all opposition.

  "All this nonsense," he seemed to be saying. "We'll soon settle it."

  Then the door to the jailer's office and the cells opened, and a large, elderly police sergeant came in, with Borgman; and two men followed.

  "Number one remand, sir, John Borgman," the sergeant said.

  "Very well," Calahan said, and nodded. "Is there any change of plea?"

  Richmond stood up, smiling, robust, and put his hands to the lapels of his coat.

  "I appear for Mr. Borgman, Your Honor, and the plea of not guilty remains."

  The rustle of interest could not be checked, and Gideon found himself watching Borgman's studied movements, almost admiring his immaculateness and his bearing. Borgman stood in the dock with all the confidence in the world. He glanced immediately at his wife, gave her a smile that was positively radiant, paused, glanced and nodded to his secretary, and then placed his hands on the rails of the dock.

  The performance had begun.

  When Lee was in the box giving formal evidence of the arrest, Richmond was fidgeting as if he could not wait to get at the witness. So this was to be a real offensive, usual tactics for the defense and an indication of absolute confidence. No wonder Lee was already on edge. Lee looked more round-shouldered than usual, and unsure of himself, and Gideon felt his own doubts rising fast. He should have been in that box. He should have been ready to give Richmond just as good as he got. As Commander, he couldn't be there, but it needed a man with more weight and confidence than Lee.

  ". . . may it please Your Honor, I would like to ask the witness some questions—vital questions to the accused, who is, of course, completely innocent of these—" Richmond paused, as if he were meaning to say "ridiculous charges," but stopped in time and just said "charges."

  "Proceed," Calahan said.

  "Thank you, sir. Now—" Richmond glared at Lee, and waited until the slight buzz of excitement had died down, and then lowered his voice so that it had a growling note; histrionics usually reserved for the jury, Gideon knew, but effective here because in a way he had already managed to suggest that it was Lee, not Borgman, on trial; that was the secret of the man's mastery. "You are a chief superintendent of the Criminal Investigation Department of New Scotland Yard, and you have often made arrests of this nature before. Is that so?"

  "I have often made arrests," Lee said, calmly enough.

  "Please listen to my questions. I said, 'of this nature.''

  "I heard you."

  "Have you ever made arrests of this nature before?"

  Calahan said, "It would perhaps clarify the question if you were to elaborate what you mean by 'this nature,' Mr. Richmond."

  "I think the witness is fully aware of my meaning, Your Honor, but I shall be happy to explain to the court," said Richmond. "This was a somewhat unusual arrest. It was an arrest which followed a remarkable and a grossly improper action by the police—by this witness. It was done in such a way that I imagine that it must have been without the approval or the knowledge of the Assistant Commissioner for Crime."

  Calahan said, "Mr. Richmond, you will please elicit your facts by questions."

  "Fool," muttered Appleby, who was next to Gideon. "He shouldn't have given Richmond even half a chance."

  Richmond said, "Certainly, Your Honor." He stared at Lee again, and Gideon saw that Lee's hands were clenched tightly by his side. "Superintendent, did you visit the general offices of Borgman Enterprises, Limited, on the morning before you made this—ah—charge?"

  "Yes."

  "On what business?"

  "I was investigating a complaint made by the accused about shortages in certain accounts."

  "Did you find those shortages?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you report to Mr. Borgman?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "He wasn't there," Lee said.

  "You mean, he was not in the general office?"

  "As far as I knew, he was not on the premises."

  "Do you know where he was?"

  "I understand that he was in Paris."

  "Did you go into his private office?"

  Lee hesitated, and before he could answer, Richmond thundered: "Did you?"

  "Yes."

  "Knowing that he was not there?"

  "Yes."

  "Why did you go?"

  Lee said, "I put my report on his desk."

  "Is that all?"

  Lee paused again, and Richmond thundered, "Is that all, Superintendent?"

  Lee said thinly, "No."

  "What else did you do?"

  "I examined his desk."

  "For what purpose?"

  "To find out what was in it."

  "I see," said Richmond, and his voice was pitched high with scorn. He turned to the magistrate as he might to a jury, and said, "We have come to a pretty pass when an officer of the law, a man whose duty and obligation it is to carry out the law in all its aspects, admits in open court that without a search warrant, without permission, without excuse, he entered the private office of a citizen who has his full legal rights, to pry—that is the only word—to pry into his personal belongings. Did you have a search warrant, Superintendent?"

  Appleby whispered, "It's going to be a bloody massacre."

  "No," answered Lee.

  "Did your superiors know that—"

  Gideon stood up, the floorboards creaking as he did so and making everyone look round at him.

  "The search was made on my orders. Mr. Lee had no choice but to obey," he rumbled.

  Richmond snapped, "When you are called to the box it is time for you to admit your own improper instructions to a subordinate. Not until then."

  Calahan said, rather stiffly, "I think I can keep order in my own court, Mr. Richmond, thank you. Do I understand that you wish to be called to testify, Commander Gideon?"

  "If you think it necessary, sir."

  "I see. Very well. Please do not interrupt the proceedings again. Now—you may proceed, Mr. Richmond."

  Richmond said, "Thank you, Your Worship." He paused and raised a hand, pointing at Lee, and said in a voice pitched on a much lower key, "Is it true that you carried out this search, this so-called repugnant duty, at the behest of your superior officer?"

  "The bloody fool won't deny it, will he?" Appleby whispered.

  "Yes," Lee said.

  "Very well.
What did you find in this desk?"

  Lee hesitated again, and rubbed his chin. Richmond did not hector him this time, just waited; but he struck a posture which created an air of ridicule which might be even more damaging than a swift repeat of the question. For the first time since the hearing had begun, there was a hush in the court, and even Calahan was staring expectantly at Lee, with what might have been a hint of sympathy in his expression.

  "Could it be that you have forgotten what you found?" asked Richmond softly.

  A woman tittered.

  Lee said, "No."

  "No what?"

  "No, I haven't forgotten what I found," Lee said.

  "What's the matter with him?" whispered Appleby, and the clerk to the court glanced up irritably, but it would take much more than that to intimidate Appleby, who went on. "He's looking a bit queer to me, George. Not going to collapse, is he?"

  "Shut up."

  "Then perhaps you will be good enough to inform the court what you found," Richmond jeered.

  "Yes," answered Lee. His shoulders seemed less rounded and he was standing more upright. "I found four secret compartments."

  "Indeed. Had you been forewarned that there were secret compartments?"

  "No."

  "Indeed? Yet you found them—just like that?"

  "They were quite difficult to find."

  "So you made a very thorough job of this illicit search," Richmond sneered. "No doubt you believe that the end justifies the means. What did you find in these compartments?"

  "Three were empty."

  "And what was in the fourth?" Richmond raised his voice and then, as Lee appeared to gather himself to answer, he said, "Were you alone during this search?"

  "No. I had a detective sergeant with me."

  "Was there a third party present?"

  "No," Lee said, and smiled. "Two was plenty." His manner had changed so markedly that even Richmond looked nonplused, and Appleby was rubbing his fingers together agitatedly, while there was tension among the Fleet Street men, and a tension in Cuthbertson as well as among Borgman's friends. Until that moment Borgman had been almost forgotten, but Lee glanced at him as he smiled, and suddenly Borgman was right in the middle of the picture. His wife looked as if she would faint; his mistress was biting her lips.

  "Will you tell the court what you found, without further delay, please."

  "Yes," said Lee. "I found two hypodermic needles, one phial of morphine preparation for injection, sufficient to kill—"

  "Are you a qualified medical practitioner?"

  "No."

  "Your Worship, may I ask that the witness does not attempt to give evidence which would be more reliably given by a medical witness?"

  "Superintendent, we would prefer not to have your opinion about how many persons might or might not be killed by this preparation which you found." Calahan glanced round at a court which seemed stunned by the announcement; the only sound came from two reporters who were squeezing their way out of the court, obviously to get to a telephone.

  "Thank you," Richmond said. "Superintendent, have you completed the statement of your discovery?"

  "There was a supply of a chemical I believed to be morphine in liquid and in powder form."

  "Is that all?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you carefully examine all the articles?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you find any of Mr. Borgman's fingerprints on any of them?"

  Lee glanced at Borgman again, and Borgman was more tense than he had been, giving the impression that he was worried and that Lee worried him. Richmond had lost the edge of his attack, too, and that could only be because of the change in Lee's manner.

  "I'm not an expert witness," Lee said, and there was a guffaw of laughter from someone in the crowd, a giggle from another part of the court. Calahan did not even look up reprovingly.

  "You are a police officer of long standing, a senior official of the Criminal Investigation Department. Presumably you know a little about your job?"

  "Didn't think you wanted me to pose as an expert," Lee retorted.

  Appleby's grin was taut, and his hands were clenched together on his knees.

  "What's happened to him, George?"

  Gideon said, "We'll see."

  "As a police officer of some experience, did you examine the articles found, and did you find any of Mr. Borgman's fingerprints on them?"

  "No."

  "Were there any prints?"

  "One or two unidentifiable smudges, that's all."

  "Does that not imply that the articles had not been wiped clean of prints, and, further, that they might have been in that compartment for a long time?"

  "Didn't know you were an expert," Lee said perkily.

  "Is it within your range of knowledge that fingerprints last for an indefinite period when in an enclosed space?" Richmond demanded. "And"—he raised a finger and raised his voice—"are you aware that the previous owner of this desk suffered acutely from a most painful condition, and frequently injected morphine into himself so as to ease the pain?"

  "God!" gasped Appleby.

  "Oldest known one was found in the tomb of a Pharaoh," said Lee, "and, according to my colleagues at the Yard, in certain circumstances they might be preserved a lot longer than that." Lee was positively coasting along, and it seemed unbelievable, for Richmond would certainly produce a witness that the late Lord Alston had made a practice of injecting morphine into himself.

  "So what you found in that secret compartment could have been there for many years during Lord Alston's ownership," Richmond said. "One can presume—"

  "Can't presume anything in my job," interrupted Lee. "You have to deal in facts."

  "Precisely. And I am going to demonstrate the fact that my client, the accused, could not have known of the existence of those objects, because they were there before he acquired the desk, and because—"

  "Couldn't have been," Lee interrupted.

  Appleby said, "He's gone mad."

  "If he has, let's all go mad," Gideon whispered.

  "What did you say?" demanded Richmond, almost shrill.

  "The accused bought the desk seven years ago; I've seen the invoice and the ledger entry of the purchase," Lee declared. "The morphine solution was prepared and packed just under five years ago. It was prepared by Zenten. They use a different size and shape phial every so often," Lee went on. "I know, because I was handling a morphine poisoning job about the time that the first Mrs. Borgman died. In that case there were two phials, and I went to Zenten's and found out the difference between them. The kind found in that secret compartment was not manufactured until 1955. So this must have been put in after Mr. Borgman bought the desk."

  "George," breathed Appleby, "we've got him."

  "They'll fight for it," Gideon said, later that afternoon, after the hearing had been adjourned. "Might go on for a week now, but we'll get him. When we come out with the result of the exhumation—"

  "It'll floor 'em," Appleby exulted.

  "On top of this, yes," said Gideon. "Well, Fred, how does it feel to have turned the tables on Percy?"

  "It was the great moment of my life," Lee said, "and I don't mind admitting I had a job to stop myself from grinning like a Cheshire cat. Funny thing, I puzzled about that bottle for days, knew there was something I knew about it. And it came to me when Percy was tearing me to strips. As a matter of fact I was thinking I would give my pension to be able to wipe the smirk off his face, and—well, no point in talking any more about it. George, if it hadn't been for you—"

  "Forget it," Gideon said.

  He was quite sure that Borgman would be committed for trial, as sure as he could be of the result of the trial itself. Plumley said as much after the adjournment. But he was puzzled. In the excitement logic had been overlooked, but would a man of Borgman's intelligence leave incriminating evidence in his desk? It didn't make sense. He could have got rid of it any time—

  "If he'd known it was there," Gideon sa
id, and then his voice rose. "My God, if he knew. If he didn't, then who put it there?"

  "The only person who could have put the morphine and the syringe in the desk was Nurse Kennett," Borgman said. "If you could find her . . ."

  "Mr. Borgman," Cuthbertson interrupted, "I don't think we should try to bring her into the case as a witness. Remember, she would be closely cross-examined. To help you, it would have to be implied that she was a guilty party. Under such pressure, do you think her testimony would help you?"

  After a long pause, Borgman muttered, "No."

  "Didn't she once threaten blackmail?"

  "Yes," Borgman admitted, "but soon afterward she got married, and—" He broke off.

  "She had left behind her the tools of blackmail, that much is evident," Cuthbertson said. "I will do everything, everything I can, and so will Mr. Richmond. If we can only put reasonable doubt into the minds of the jury, we will win the case. Be sure of that."

  Gideon felt quite sure that the Crown would win.

  The Carter case was an even greater certainty.

  The young van driver who had taken such risks with the Carters had made a statement, and would not be charged, but there were dozens of charges pending, and the finishing touches to be given to the whole case. There was the race doping to follow up. There was the matricide and patricide case—one of the ugliest there could be. There was the Robson case to see through; Hoppy wanted watching on that. There was Moss to talk to—and Christy, too. Christy ought to recommend promotion for Moss pretty soon. There was the whole of London's crime still on the doorstep; the hangover of the old and the appetizers for the new. But the risk had been taken and the future assured. Tonight he could go home early, to Kate.