by T J Walter
‘What about the East End, sir, do you visit any of the clubs there?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘What about sex, sir, where do you satisfy your sexual appetites?’
‘How dare you ask that?’
‘What about The Venus Club in Shoreditch High Street, sir, do you ever go there?’ he asked, referring to the club Silver ran his business from.
‘No, I don’t even know where you mean.’
‘Really, sir, so you never phone there?’
‘No, I’ve told you. No.’
‘Does anyone else drive your car, sir?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘What about your mobile phone, sir, does anyone else ever use that?’
‘Of course not, I have it with me at all times.’
Brookes pounced; ‘Eight calls to The Venus Club in the last month, sir, and you don’t know the place and have never been there. How do you explain that?’
Middlemiss looked up from his notebook to see Fleming’s reaction to this question. Fleming’s mouth opened and then closed again. He was like a cornered rat with nowhere to run. The detectives could see his mind working. He started to say something, and then thought better of it.
Finally, he said, ‘I’ve nothing more to say to you, Superintendent; get out of my office.’
Brookes looked at his DS. ‘Mr Fleming refused to answer the question; please make a note of that, Sergeant.’ Then he looked back at Fleming. ‘Do I take it that you refuse to answer any more of my questions, sir?’
‘I will consult my solicitor, you have no right to bully me like this.’
‘Do you feel bullied, sir; I wonder why that is?’
Fleming made no reply.
Brookes stood up. ‘No need to see us out, sir. We’ll be in touch. Please don’t leave London without contacting us. We will need to talk to you again.’
He turned and left, followed by his sergeant.
Middlemiss thought, game, set, and match. Only when they reached the street did either speak again.
Middlemiss said, ‘He’s our man alright, boss. Get him down the nick and he’ll break like an egg.’
‘You’re right, Fred. But did he act alone? I’ll brief the observation team; whatever they do they mustn’t lose him. If he runs to Silver, we’ll know that Silver’s involved in the murder. Fleming’s got no alibi for Saturday night and I’m sure now he had a motive. Now we must be patient. Who’s on the observation currently?’
‘Liz and Stumpy. They’re in the café over there.’ He nodded to a coffee shop on the other side of the street. ‘They can see the entrances to the building and the underground car park from there. And the phone taps are in place; he hasn’t got a chance.’
‘You had better be right, Fred, I don’t want any mistakes.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Something else: that plaster on his hand, he may have injured that at Alison’s flat. Get the forensic team back there and give the place another going over. It would be handy to find some of his blood at the scene.
*
Chapter 10 – A Time for Action
‘No problem is so big or so complicated that it cannot be run away from.’
Charles Schulz
They arrived back at Leman Street to find DS Paul Moore of S.O.23 waiting for them. He was chatting with Derek Short; the two had worked together on previous postings and were friends.
Moore was a mild-looking man in his late forties. Of medium height and build, he had a comfortable paunch and his thinning grey hair was receding across his scalp. Dressed in an old sports jacket, open-necked shirt, and casual trousers, he looked more like a schoolteacher than a detective. Except for one detail: an ugly scar ran from his cheek, down across his lips and chin. It was a knife-wound that he had acquired on a drug raid. The scar on his face gave it a lopsided appearance. The scar on his mind gave him a hatred of criminals, whom he pursued with a grim determination.
Moore got up from his chair when Brookes arrived, and Short introduced him to Brookes. Brookes looked around the busy room and saw Rose sitting beside Sarah Harris at her computer. He called her over and told her to bring the coffeepot. They pulled up chairs and sat around Short’s desk.
As the coffee was being poured, Brookes said, ‘Right, before I give you my news, what have you got, Derek?’
‘Some good news first, boss. The boffins got a DNA profile from tiny shreds of skin found under Alison’s fingernails and hairs found on her bed. They’ve come up with a profile; adult male under fifty. That should give us a slam-dunk when we get a sample from the suspect and compare it. The news on the BMW is as expected; the old dear that saw it at the murder scene was shown the photograph of Fleming’s car and could only say that it’s like the one she saw. All the residents within a hundred yards of Riverview Mansions have been seen; none of them had visitors on Saturday night who drive a BMW.
‘Richard Mann hasn’t come back with any more info yet on the finance. We’ve got printouts of Fleming’s calls and checked them all. There are a couple to Jamaica over the past weeks, to the home of his father as well as the ones to The Venus Club in Shoreditch. Other than that, we’re still looking, boss.’
Middlemiss had a frown on his face. He scratched his head. ‘You know, boss, the more we learn about this Fleming, the more daft he looks; he’s leaving a trail a traffic warden could follow.’
Brookes smiled. ‘Yes, he doesn’t come across as an accomplished villain, does he? OK, we’ve got more than enough to bring him in now. But first, I need to establish whether Silver is implicated in the murder.’ Looking at DI Short, he said, ‘The teams watching Fleming know how important it is not to lose him, do they, Derek?’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Then let’s leave that for the moment.’ He turned to Moore. ‘Paul, give us your take on Silver’s operation.’
Moore nodded, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Then he said, ‘Right, guv; if you draw a line from north to south across London this side of the Thames, you’ve got the East End and the West End. Anything east of Finsbury Park is Silver’s territory. Anything bent that goes on there that’s worth talking about, you can guarantee Silver has got his grubby fingers in.’
Brookes nodded. ‘Remind us where he comes from, Paul. How did he get going?’
‘It’s a typical East End story. He started as a member of a gang of local tearaways in Shoreditch. Had a few arrests for street robbery, handbag snatches, that sort of thing. Did six months in Burton Hall Young Offenders lock-up. Then he graduated to the hard stuff. Got done for armed robbery and did four years in Chelmsford. All that did was wise him up. When he got out, we didn’t hear of him for a while. But two years later he was running a protection racket on the local sex clubs.
‘Now you’ll know, guv, they’ve got their own hard men, so for him to muscle in took some doing. There were some very nasty GBH’s but we never got a conviction. The key was that he was organised and he wasn’t too greedy; as long as they behaved he let them make money so he could get a share. Whatever you say about him, he’s shrewd.
‘His empire grew from there. He took over The Venus Club that’s still his HQ, and got into prostitution and porn. But that wasn’t all. Ten years ago he got nicked for receiving stolen goods; he was running a team of kids stealing mobile phones and expensive wristwatches. But by then he was in the money and got off on a technicality; something about the search warrant the DI running the case got not covering the stolen goods found. We’ve never got near him since, and believe me we’ve tried.’
Brookes nodded thoughtfully. ‘What about his dirty money, how does he launder that?’
Moore smiled. ‘Good question, guv. We’re hoping you might have found the answer to that.’
‘Any idea how much money we’re talking about, Paul?’
Moore frowned. ‘Apart from saying it’s a hell of a lot, no, guv. We know about his legitimate businesses, of course, but are only guessing about the other rackets.’
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‘When you say ‘a hell of a lot’, could we be talking about over fifty million?’
Moore’s mouth fell open. He quickly closed it again and said, ‘Phew! Anything’s possible I suppose.’
Middlemiss chimed in, ‘Either that or Fleming is laundering other toerags’ money as well, boss.’
Brookes nodded. ‘That’s something we need to find out.’ He sat quietly for a minute, thinking how this information impacted on his murder enquiry. Finally he spoke. ‘OK, let’s concentrate on the matter at hand. There’s no doubt that Fleming is our man. I’m also convinced that he acted independently of Silver; it was too much of an amateur job for an old villain like him to be involved. But just to confirm that, I’ll let Fleming run for the rest of today. If he had accomplices, he’ll contact them. Derek, are you certain the phone taps are in place?’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Good. He’s obviously not a professional killer. My assessment is that he is weak and greedy. He was happy making lots of money laundering Silver’s illegal profits but when the shit hit the fan, he panicked. When he found that Alison MacPherson had discovered the money passing through his business, he knew that Silver would blame him for his carelessness and would have him killed. So he strangled Alison to keep her quiet. Does anyone see this differently?’
Short said, ‘No, boss.’
‘And you, Fred?’
‘Nothing else makes sense, boss. If Silver had done it, he’d have brought in the pros.’
Brookes continued, ‘OK, the other problem we have to consider is that as soon as we arrest him, Silver will try to protect their interests; he’s got God knows how many millions invested in Luxury Homes and he won’t want to lose that. Paul, what do you think he’ll do?’
Moore pursed his lips. ‘I don’t know what he can do about the money, guv. I know what he’ll try to do to Fleming. If he’s alive to give evidence, Silver will know there’s a good chance he’ll go down with him. It depends how much Fleming knows about Silver’s business, of course.’
‘Well, his phone records show that Fleming is in constant touch with Silver. What is it, Fred, eight phone calls in the last month to the club?’
Fred nodded. ‘And two to Jamaica, to his father, boss.’
Brookes frowned. ‘I wonder if that’s just because he loves his dad or to do with business.’ After a pause he added, ‘I think we can assume he knows more than a bit about Silver’s business. When we take him down, we’ll have to keep him in the high security nick at Paddington. Once we’ve interviewed him and charged him with the murder, S.O. Twenty-three will want to spend some time with him.’ Again, no one spoke when he paused.
‘I think we’d best bring our plan forward. The longer Fleming is out there, the more danger he is in, and alive he might be the key to other arrests. I think we’ll have to move on him straight away.’ He looked at his watch. ‘What is it now, four o’clock? Let’s see where he goes when he leaves the office. If he goes straight home, we’ll arrest him there. If he runs to Silver, we’ll know he’s probably in on the murder and we’ll bring him in. Our team can cope with Fleming on his own but if Silver is involved we’ll need your help, Paul. Can you have a team ready to assist from six this evening?’
‘No trouble, guv. I’ll get on the blower now.’
‘Good, that’s the plan then. Let’s all have something to eat. Everyone back here at five ready to move, Derek.’
The meeting broke up.
*
Two hours later, Liz Foreman and Stumpy Gerrard still sat in the coffee shop opposite the offices of Luxury Homes Abroad. They had watched the three girls leave the office five minutes ago. Now they saw the manager coming out. He turned and locked the door behind him. Only then did they realise that something was amiss; he would hardly lock his boss in the building.
Stumpy jumped up, saying over his shoulder, ‘Keep watching the garage exit, Liz, I’ll check with the manager.’
He ran across the road and spoke to the man. Then Liz saw him slap himself on the head and pull out his radio.
The message came across clearly, ‘All units, all units. Fleming’s done a runner. The manager’s just locked up; he says that Fleming left at four.’
*
Twenty minutes later, an embarrassed Liz Foreman was explaining to Brookes what had happened. She and Stumpy Gerrard had last seen Fleming through the glass windows of the office, talking to his manager at about three. He’d then gone into his private office. This had a mirrored door so they could not see into his inner sanctum. They questioned the manager and discovered that there was a fire escape door at the back of the building that Fleming was able to access from his office via a back passage; this in turn led to a footpath that ran alongside the rear of the building, coming out close to the train station. The detectives had not done their homework properly.
The manager told them that Fleming had called him into his office at about 4pm to say that he was leaving early. He had over a two hour start. But his BMW was still parked in the underground car park, so he was on foot.
Brookes was fuming inside but said nothing; crying over spilt milk wouldn’t achieve anything. Foreman and Gerrard knew what a serious blunder they’d made and they knew the rules; everyone made the occasional mistake but if you made too many, you were out on your ear. But it wasn’t entirely their fault; Brookes should have thought of the possibility of a rear exit.
Brookes was already thinking ahead. To Middlemiss he said, ‘Get over to Fleming’s apartment and see what you can find. I don’t care how you get in; see if there’s a caretaker, if not, smash the damned door down. I expect we’ll be too late but we must try. See if his passport is there. And if you find any evidence relating to the murder, don’t touch it until Derek sends you the search warrant. No mistakes, Fred.’
Middlemiss simply nodded.
Brookes turned to Rose. ‘Jacqui, get on to Special Branch, put an all ports warning on Fleming. If he’s on the run, he’ll leave the country if he can.’ Then as an afterthought, he shouted after Fred Middlemiss, ‘Fred, we need a photograph of Fleming, see if there is one at his flat. He might just have a false passport. Get the photo faxed to Special Branch as quickly as you can and let me know what’s happening as soon as it happens. Now get cracking.’
The detectives left quickly to perform their various tasks. Brookes returned to the Incident Room.
*
At ten minutes past midnight, Brookes was woken from a deep sleep by the insistent ringing of his phone. For a moment he was disorientated, wondering which bed he was in. Then he recognised the familiar surroundings; he was at home.
He grunted into the mouthpiece and listened for a moment, then said, ‘OK, I’m on my way’.
Arriving at the Incident Room, he went straight to Short’s desk. He waited impatiently while the DI finished a phone call.
Eventually, he put the phone down. ‘Yes, boss, I thought you’d want to come in. A security camera at The City Airport caught someone who they think is Fleming, booking onto a flight to Paris at five thirty pm. If it is him, he’s travelling under an assumed name; there’s no Fleming on the passenger list. Fred and Bob Phillips are there now; they’ll phone here when they have something.’
He continued, ‘There was nothing useful at Fleming’s flat except a recent photo. He obviously left in a great hurry, as he hasn’t taken much with him. It looks as if he saw the writing on the wall when you interviewed him.’
Brookes frowned. ‘What about his passport? He must have one in his own name.’
‘No, there was no sign of a passport.’
‘OK, in the morning get a court order to put a stop on his bank account, although it may be too late. Didn’t Richard Mann say that he has accounts abroad?’
Short nodded. ‘Yes, boss.’
The phone rang and Short picked it up. After a moment, he said into the mouthpiece, ‘Just a minute, Fred, the boss is here, you’d better tell it to him.’ He handed the receiver to Brookes.
‘What have you got, Fred?’
‘Yes boss, it seems he’s travelling under the name of Jason Henderson. He left on the five-thirty pm flight to Paris. I’ve checked the security tape; it’s definitely him. Special Branch are on to their opposite numbers in Paris and are trying to find out where he went from there. They’ll let DI Short know as soon as they have some info.
‘We searched his flat. No passport but he’s a computer nerd and there’s tons of stuff that’ll have to be gone through. His bathroom cabinet is full of drugs but we didn’t touch anything as you told us not to; it looks as if he’s some kind of hypochondriac. It seems as if Fleming did a runner straight from the office and never went back to the flat. He must have been ready to go and just left everything behind. What do you want us to do now?’
Brookes resisted the urge to say something cutting. Instead he said, ‘Get a good description of what he was wearing and anything he was carrying then get back here to the office.’ He put the phone down.
He sat thinking for a while then said aloud, ‘Now where in the world is he going to run to?’ Another thought was trying to force its way to the surface of his mind. He turned to Short. ‘Put a flag on the file to get onto Passport Office in the morning and find out where and when a passport was issued to Jason Henderson.’
Short replied, ‘Yes, boss.’ He already had that in hand but thought it wiser not to say so.
‘You get off home, Derek,’ Brookes suggested. ‘I’ll wait for Fred to report back. Get some sleep, I’ve a feeling we’re all going to need it.’
*
Chapter 11 – The Running Hare
‘If you can find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn’t lead anywhere.’
Unknown origin
The ringing of the telephone woke Brookes at 6.30am as usual. He’d managed just a few hours sleep and felt groggy. A shower and a strong black coffee had little effect and his mood was dark as he made his way down to the waiting car.