The Heights

by Parker Bilal

  Drake had no idea when he came to pick her up that afternoon from the hotel in Russell Square that within a matter of weeks she would become the keystone, the star witness in their case against Goran. Drake passed the word. But somewhere inside the machinations within Operation Hemlock the cogs ground to a halt and Drake found himself out there on his own, no longer able to trust his partner on the inside, Detective Inspector Vernon Pryce, who made no secret of the fact that he didn’t like Drake. He kept demanding more evidence and each time Zelda was terrified that whatever she showed them would be traced back to her.

  Pryce’s stalling made Drake wonder if Zelda was right when she said that Goran had the police in his pocket. Could Pryce be on Goran’s payroll? It was this more than anything that convinced him to take matters into his own hands. He took Zelda off the radar of his own accord, without even telling his own team, and without informing Pryce.

  ‘DI Drake circumvented the chain of command,’ WPC Patel was saying.

  Marshall cleared his voice. ‘This is an important point. In your statement you claim that you felt it was necessary for the security of the witness. Can you tell this inquiry if there was any other reason for this course of action?’

  ‘No, sir. I just thought it was the right call.’

  ‘I see.’ Marshall sounded unconvinced.

  It would have been fine, if only things had gone according to plan. Drake needed to keep Zelda safe for long enough to get her to trust him with the written evidence and get a proper statement. She was unwilling to do either of these things until she was sure she was safe. So he got a couple of burner phones, gave her some cash to tide her over and told her to disappear.

  ‘Nobody else, as far as you are aware, was in contact with the witness?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Then how do you explain her disappearance?’

  ‘I can’t … sir.’

  ‘If I may,’ Pryce intervened. ‘DI Drake has always had problems with authority. His record shows a history of insubordination and recklessness, both within the Metropolitan Police force and, prior to that, during his time in the army.’

  ‘I understood that he had a distinguished military record.’ Marshall looked up from his files at Drake. ‘You were decorated for your service.’

  ‘That is correct, sir. The Distinguished Service Medal.’

  Marshall shot Pryce a wary look. ‘Hardly chimes with insubordination.’

  Not quite true. Drake had been sanctioned enough times for insubordination to know that he would never have a career in the military. It wasn’t that he was bad at his job. He’d proved himself a good soldier. What he had problems with was obeying orders when they made no sense, which kind of rubbed up badly against the whole idea of the chain of command. In the army you do what you’re told, no questions asked.

  Drake knew that some of the resentment he experienced was due to those who were convinced that he was being favoured because he fitted nicely into the group picture of a racially diverse police force. He didn’t care about any of that and did his best to ignore it. The world was full of people looking for someone to blame. And besides, Drake hadn’t exactly made it difficult for them. He was often a little too reckless, a little unconventional in his methods.

  The elephant in the room and the root of this DPI investigation was the accusation that it was Drake who had been bought off, that he might have given up Zelda to Goran Malevich.

  ‘DI Drake?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I was asking about your witness.’ Marshall peered over the rim of his reading glasses. ‘I believe her name was Zelda.’

  ‘That was an alias she used. Her real name was Esma Danin.’

  ‘You maintain that while she was in your care she disappeared without trace.’

  ‘We had worked on finding someone to testify against Goran for over a year.’ Drake glanced at Pryce, who stared back at him. ‘Zelda was the best opportunity we had. I couldn’t risk losing her.’

  Marshall’s face scrunched up as if he had accidentally bitten into a lemon. ‘I find it hard to accept that your justification for keeping all of this under wraps is that you believed you could not trust your own team.’

  ‘It was a risk I felt I couldn’t take.’

  ‘Was there anyone in particular within your team who gave rise to this suspicion of yours?’

  That afternoon, Drake knew that Pryce was watching his every move, waiting for an opportunity. ‘Nothing I could put my finger on.’

  ‘So, this was all mere speculation on your part.’

  ‘Every time we came close to getting something on Goran he would change up the system. Deliveries, routes, storage facilities. It was as if he knew where we were looking.’

  ‘But you had no solid evidence of there being an informer in your team.’ Marshall pressed the point home.

  ‘That is correct,’ Drake conceded, ignoring the snort of derision coming from Pryce.

  ‘But you had confidence that the material she was offering was genuine.’

  ‘I knew it was. Everything she showed me was solid.’

  ‘If I may, sir.’ Pryce could no longer restrain himself. Marshall conceded with a nod, not lifting his eyes from the documentation in front of him. ‘We’ve been over this before. DI Drake provided no solid proof that his witness had reliable evidence that would have been sufficient. That was the reason I had my doubts. I believed that DI Drake was emotionally involved with the witness and that this had affected his judgement.’

  ‘Any truth to that, DI Drake?’

  ‘None, sir.’

  ‘So, you were not involved with this witness in a personal way?’ Marshall’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘You did not lead her on?’

  Did he lead her on? It was the question that had tugged him awake on countless nights just like this one, left him wandering the house in the dark. No, he had been careful not to step over the line. To have done that would have been to jeopardise the whole case. That would have been a catastrophe. But he knew, deep down in his soul, that he could not truthfully claim not to have led her on. The look in her eyes was seared into the back of his mind.

  It may have been desperation, but Drake knew that Zelda saw him as her saviour, the man who would deliver her from the suffering she had experienced all her life. When you promised someone something like that you went beyond the professional, you were making a personal commitment.

  ‘Thank you, DI Pryce, your point has been duly noted for the record.’ Marshall sounded weary. ‘I’d like to turn back to the issue of your witness, Zelda. Are you saying, DI Drake, that you had no way of tracing her once she had gone off the radar, as it were?’

  ‘That’s correct, sir.’

  ‘A little reckless, don’t you think, letting a witness disappear?’

  ‘I thought it was for the best.’ He would have added that Zelda herself refused to cooperate under any other conditions. She trusted nobody, not even Drake. Not fully anyway.

  ‘And you chose to take this decision yourself, without even consulting your direct superiors. You thought it was worth it. Can you explain why?’

  ‘Zelda knew everything there was to know about Goran Malevich’s operations, in particular his child-smuggling ring. We had never come anywhere close to anything as good as this. The implications were far reaching. Goran was connected to a ring that extended across Europe. But she was in fear of her life. I needed her to trust me.’

  ‘You are aware, I take it, that the torso of an unidentified female was discovered along the coast from Brighton around the time of her disappearance?’

  ‘It was three weeks after she disappeared.’ Drake glanced at Pryce. ‘At the time there was no firm evidence to connect the torso with my informant.’

  ‘But the possibility that this was her must have crossed your mind.’

  ‘It did, of course, but by then the whole thing was over. Goran himself was dead.’

  ‘Malevich was gunned down in a multistorey car park in Brighton
, so your case was effectively useless.’

  ‘That is correct, sir.’

  ‘Your witness was no longer of any use to you.’

  ‘She still had valuable information. Information that could have been used to dismantle Malevich’s operations and prevent them from being taken over by someone else.’

  ‘But that didn’t happen.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Marshall leaned back, dropping his pen on the stack of papers in front of him to regard Drake.

  ‘Can you tell us why that didn’t happen?’

  ‘Operation Hemlock was closed. I was suspended, pending this investigation.’ Drake lifted his chin. ‘Everything stopped.’

  ‘And who benefitted from that?’

  ‘Certainly not me.’

  ‘Am I correct in assuming that you believe Malevich was responsible for the disappearance and death of your witness?’

  ‘Everything would indicate that.’

  ‘Can you explain how he could have managed to find her?’

  ‘No, sir, I cannot.’

  ‘You can see how this looks, can’t you? You were the only person who was in contact with her. How could anyone have found her?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Drake studied the backs of his hands. ‘I can only speculate that she used the phone I gave her to call someone other than myself and she paid for that mistake with her life.’

  ‘But you have no idea who that person she rang might be?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Marshall gave a deep sigh and closed the folder in front of him, then carefully replaced the cap on his fountain pen and lay it alongside it.

  ‘There are many aspects of this case that I find deeply troubling. All I can say with certainty is that there is clear evidence of breaches of procedure, none of which has an adequate explanation.’

  Marshall leaned back and folded his arms. Pryce cleared his throat.

  ‘DI Pryce, you have something to add?’

  ‘Sir, I believe it is important to note that Goran Malevich was gunned down by unknown assailants using assault rifles. It had all the hallmarks of a gangland assassination.’

  ‘I am aware of the facts, DI Pryce. What is your point?’

  ‘Simply that the story did not end with Malevich. Removing him left the field open to a number of his rivals. Several of whom continue to thrive today. A number of them are known to DI Drake personally.’

  ‘That is a serious accusation. Do you have any evidence?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Can you shed any light on the subject, Detective Inspector?’ Marshall returned his gaze to Drake.

  ‘None, sir, no …’ He cleared his throat. ‘If I may, sir. All of this is pure speculation on the part of DI Pryce. I’d be happy to respond to any evidence put before me, but so far I haven’t seen any.’

  ‘DI Pryce?’

  ‘There is no hard evidence yet. I believe the matter warrants further investigation.’

  ‘I would agree.’ Marshall nodded. ‘Your statement to that effect is now on record. DI Drake, do you have anything to add?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Very well.’ Marshall heaved a breath and folded his glasses. ‘So, we’re just about done here. Anyone wish to add any closing statement?’

  ‘If I may, Superintendent?’

  ‘Let the record show that DI Pryce would like to make a statement.’

  ‘In my opinion, DI Drake has conducted himself in a way that is incompatible with the behaviour of an officer of the Metropolitan Police. He has consistently shown a lack of respect for his commanding officer and his seniors in rank. This insubordination sets a bad example for the service as a whole. On top of that there is the impact on our efficiency and professionalism.’

  Pryce had been practising. It was a good speech, Drake had to admit, but he’d heard the same crap before. Countless times, in fact. But Marshall had had enough. You could see that in his eyes. The inquiry had run its course. Everybody wanted to move on. Drake more than anyone. There was just that nagging voice at the back of his head that prevented him feeling any satisfaction.

  ‘We shall withdraw to consider the facts once more and decide on our recommendations.’

  On the way out, Pryce cornered Drake.

  ‘Don’t go blowing champagne corks just yet, Drake. This isn’t over.’

  Even now, nearly four years later, Drake wondered whether it would ever be over.

  35

  This time she was greeted by a monkey. Crane was no expert, but she was pretty sure she was looking at a chimpanzee. It was perched on the staircase as she came in through the front door. No horses or geese this time. Where had it come from? The chimp stared at her for a while and then looked around. It was big enough to seem a little intimidating and she stood her ground for a moment without saying a word. Unimpressed, the ape hauled itself quite effortlessly onto the handrail and walked up this on all fours, to disappear somewhere on the upper floor.

  Crane wandered down the hall below the staircase that led through to the rear of the house. The kitchen was empty this time. She went from room to room until she found her father sitting on the terrace outside. He appeared to be oblivious to the light rain that had turned the blanket around his shoulders damp. Droplets of water clung in a spidery web to the lank hair that hung down over his face.

  ‘You shouldn’t be out here in this weather.’

  ‘It helps to clear the mind.’

  ‘Well, you’ll catch your death,’ she said, helping him to his feet.

  ‘Don’t pretend that you care about me.’ He tried to shake her off, but he was weaker than her. Nevertheless, she stepped out of his way. Let him fall on his face. Perhaps that would teach him to appreciate the effort she was making.

  ‘I suppose you’ve come to gloat.’

  ‘I came to ask you about your dealings with Marco Foulkes.’

  ‘Oh, not that again. It’s so boring. Why don’t you settle down and start a family? You’d feel much better. Or don’t you like men?’

  ‘He’s taking advantage of you.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Edmund Crane paused, his finger trembling in the air. ‘You’re worried about your inheritance. That’s what all this is about.’

  ‘I hate to disappoint you, but this isn’t about you, or your money.’

  ‘Just as well, because there’s bugger all left of it.’

  ‘Marco used your name to set up a shell company. Novo Elysium.’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ He weaved across the room to pick up a cut glass decanter from the sideboard and hold it up to the light. ‘They always forget to refill the damn thing. You simply can’t find the help.’

  ‘You don’t have any help, remember? You sent them all packing.’

  Edmund Crane turned to survey his daughter, who remained standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the light.

  ‘God, you remind me of your mother.’

  ‘You almost make it sound like you cared.’ Crane walked past him to throw open the French windows, hoping to lose the animal smell that filled the room. Something had been in there and left its droppings behind. Her father carried on talking.

  ‘I didn’t hate her, you know. We were happy once.’

  ‘You left her in prison. You let her die.’

  ‘She knew the risks. She was prepared.’

  ‘Nobody is prepared to rot in an Iranian jail.’

  ‘It was a difficult time. There was a lot at stake.’

  ‘Sounds like the same old excuses to me.’

  ‘I know you see me as the enemy, but we’re not as different as you like to think.’ He gestured at the house around them. ‘You’re a part of all this. That’s what you can’t accept. That’s why you hate yourself.’

  She looked at him and pulled a face. ‘Do me a favour, don’t try to analyse me.’

  ‘I thought you were a psychologist.’

  ‘Exactly, and you’re not. Tell me about Marco Foulkes.’

&n
bsp; Her father turned away, got down on his knees and started rifling through the contents of a cabinet until he found what he was looking for. ‘Aha.’ He held up a bottle of crème de menthe. ‘Care to join me?’

  Ray didn’t answer. Edmund Crane shrugged off the rejection and found himself a glass, which he wiped on the tail of his shirt before pouring himself a generous shot.

  ‘He sat there, right there.’ He pointed at the divan, whose stuffing was erupting from one corner. ‘Told me all about how he would make us both rich.’

  ‘And you believed him?’

  ‘I’ve never been good with money. My father was even worse. Runs in the family.’ He sipped his drink and smoothed a hand over his remaining hair. ‘Why are you really here?’

  ‘What exactly happened to Foulkes’ father?’

  ‘Killed himself. He was a coward and a fool. Cheating on his wife. Nobody missed him.’

  ‘Yet you welcome his son with open arms?’

  ‘I felt sorry for him. And besides, I always had a soft spot for his mother, Hilda.’

  The liqueur seemed to mellow the old man. He was dressed in a paisley dressing gown, out of which the collar of a shirt poked.

  ‘She deserved better than me,’ he mused. ‘Your mother, I mean.’

  ‘For God’s sake!’

  He looked up. ‘Where are you going?’