Due Process

by Jane Finch

  He dreamed throughout secondary school, amazing his teachers and parents by being top of the class in all subjects. To Peter Hopkins, studying was easy for him because it would one day be his ticket to the sun. He sailed through his exams and was one of only fourteen students from his school that went on to further education, and of those, the only one to go to University. He studied law and left three years later with a First Class Degree.

  He was articled as a clerk to a law firm in Liverpool and spent three years preparing briefs and taking statements. He knew the money was in trusts and estates, but they didn’t interest him, so he chose to specialise in criminal law. Another five years with his own client base after he qualified, and then finally the day in August when he passed the Bar exam and became a barrister. He remembered the day well not only because of his success, but because it was the middle of an English summer, and it was raining.

  He still read his travel magazines, even though he was thirty-two years of age, although no longer under blankets with a torch. He earned a good salary, rented an apartment in an up-market area of Liverpool, and travelled to work by taxi. There had been several girlfriends, but Peter was determined to have no ties to England, and so the romances were brief. He used his substantial earnings to travel, looking for that special place in the sun that he would call home.

  It was two years later that he travelled to the Cayman Islands.

  * * * *

  He arrived on Grand Cayman more by mistake than desire. He had been exploring the Caribbean islands and whilst staying at a five star resort on Jamaica had met Jeff Lewis, an ex-pat lawyer living and working in the Caymans. They formed a friendship over their week-long stay and Jeff invited Peter to visit him at his home in Grand Cayman.

  The island itself did not appeal. It had been over developed for many years and the place heaved with loud American tourists who had discovered the pure white beaches and superior hotels and realised it was accessible with just a short plane journey. Cruise ships docked twice a week, and George Town quickly cashed in on the huge influx of dollar-wielding visitors. Banks purchased impressive buildings with designer interiors to lure the companies and investors who saw the opportunities the island and its tax-free status offered, law firms expanded and moved to larger offices, and property developers and real estate agents made their first million. Even Marks and Spencer saw the potential and opened up a branch.

  But after a few days Peter saw beyond the concrete jungle. The sun shone every day and he believed Jeff when he said the temperature never dropped below twenty-five degrees. Jeff’s firm, Bodden and Associates, specialised in commercial law but they were expanding, like everything else on Grand Cayman. There was a lucrative business in criminal law, not with petty thieves and motoring offences, but with the drug barons and traffickers who would pay large sums for a good defence.

  It didn’t take Peter long to accept the opportunity, and on a damp and cold January day he left England and arrived in George Town, Grand Cayman, ten hours later, tired, a little apprehensive, but warm.

  Bodden and Associates grew rapidly, developing their expertise and acquiring other lawyers who specialised in property law, tax and investments, and international acquisitions. They preferred to recruit British lawyers, their training was excellent and they always seemed more willing to settle on their concrete island.

  Peter found a little piece of heaven in a quiet corner of Grand Cayman called Cayman Kai. Impressive houses had been built on beach lots well away from the regular tourist areas. Peter chose a four-bedroomed home with a pristine wrap around porch where the crystal waters lapped placidly at his front steps and the only sound he could hear in the mornings was the whisper of the wind and the call of the gulls.

  He began to move in high circles, being regularly invited to the Governor’s home for drinks and dinner. It was during one of these occasions that he met the British Ambassador’s daughter, recently divorced, sun-tanned and slim, with legs that went to her armpits. Mostly, Jennifer made him laugh. She had lived on the island for five years and never wanted to return to England. They began dating and were married a year later.

  It was shortly after his marriage that Peter was invited to apply for the position of circuit judge. The position would require him to travel around the Caribbean sitting at a variety of courts but specialising in criminal matters. Travel was first class and the salary was $150,000 a year. It didn’t take Peter long to accept graciously.

  * * *

  The Samuel King trial had been Peter’s first major trial. He had spent a few months learning the ropes of the judicial system which appeared to vary considerably depending on which island he was on. But the mundane days of familiarity were becoming boring, so when he was offered the chance of his first trial, he jumped at it.

  Even though the Prosecutor and Defence would put their cases to him, he read everything beforehand. He sifted through the police evidence and carefully read through the wad of statements so that by the time Samuel King stood before him, he knew the case backwards.

  There were also other factors at work. He was new on the block and wanted to make an impression. He wanted to have a reputation as a strict judge who operated to the letter of the law, not a soft touch who might be up for a bit of corruption or bribery. So he came down hard on Samuel King, issuing the maximum sentence and readily agreeing to the request for incarceration at San Quentin. The threats by the prisoner meant nothing to him.

  One of the benefits of Grand Cayman being so developed was that it had a streamlined transport system off the island. Owen Robert Airport boasted three flights a day to Miami, and with the flight just sixty minutes, Peter took regular trips to the mainland. Jennifer would often accompany him and hit the shops whilst he explored the outskirts of the city. It stopped him getting ‘island fever’ and kept his wife happy.

  Sometimes he would hire a car and cruise along the coast, and on other occasions he would take the MetroRail because it was an elevated line and he could see more of the city than if he drove.

  It was a Saturday, but the station was still busy with chattering tourists. His journey had a purpose because he planned to visit the museum district and find out a little about the history of the West Indies. He heard the whoosh of an approaching train and shuffled forward with the crowd. He had been waiting a few minutes and so was at the front of the platform. He felt the man’s presence beside him before he spoke.

  “Remember Samuel King?”

  Peter was surprised. He started to turn toward the man even as he felt the hand at his back. The people around him were laughing and shouting to each other above the noise of the locomotive which was now almost at the station.

  The man was saying something, but Peter could not hear him.

  “Pardon?” he asked, at the same time reaching behind him to take the man’s hand from his back.

  “I said, he remembers you…”

  Those were the last words Peter heard as he was pushed hard, struggled to stop his fall, failed, and landed heavily on the rails. He hardly had time to lift his head as the train hit him.

  * * *

  After Samuel had been at San Quentin for about eighteen months, someone slipped a newspaper under his door. He was slightly annoyed by this as he never spent his time reading, be it books or newspapers. But the headlines of the front page caught his attention.

  Judge falls in front of train.

  One look at the photograph accompanying the article showed it to be Judge Hopkins. Samuel smiled. His men had done well.

  One down; one to go. But Miranda Bell was not going to get off as easy as the judge. He would think of something extra special for her. After all, he had the time.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Finally, Amanda understood. It wasn’t about a ransom. It wasn’t a straight forward kidnapping. It was nothing to do with Tony’s clients. It was about revenge.

  The café had become quiet and she realized they were the only two left. How long they had been there she h
ad no idea, swept away as she was by memories of a past long forgotten. A glance at her watch confirmed they had been there for nearly an hour. Finally, her companion closed his mobile phone and looked at her.

  “Do you have a name?” she asked.

  “It’s better you don’t know anything about me,” he said, looking at his notebook where he had been writing throughout his lengthy conversation.

  “It’s the Jamaican, isn’t it?” she said matter of factly, and he nodded.

  “He was paroled three months ago,” he replied, consulting his notes. “We were tracking him, but lost him. We think he took a boat and probably went back to Jamaica. We had alerted the coastguard but to be honest he could have left from anywhere along the Gulf coast.”

  “So in that time he has somehow managed to find me in England and has now kidnapped Tony just to pay me back? It doesn’t make sense. How could he have found me, and why go to all that bother?

  He checked his notes again, and then looked at her calmly. His fingers had stopped the persistent drumming at last.

  “This is no ordinary guy. His name is Samuel King and no doubt he feels he has been made to look a fool. He is determined to show his adversaries and his own men that he can find anyone – anywhere. He is going to make an example of you.”

  Amanda shook her head.

  “It’s been ten years. Ten years. He must be holding one big grudge.”

  Her companion began gathering his things together as if ready to leave.

  “Well, if you’ll just come with me…”

  Amanda stood up and glared at him.

  “No way. I have to find my husband and if you can’t help me then I’ll do it myself. And if Samuel King found me, then he will probably be able to find my daughter, Jenny. So I am going to get her, and then work out just where my husband might be.”

  “Wait,” he said firmly, “there’s more I haven’t told you.”

  She paused, watching as he took a piece of paper from his notebook and handed it to her. One glance at the paper and she gasped and sat down heavily.

  It was a letter addressed to her grandmother and bearing the Morgan and Pacey address.

  Dear Lucy,

  This letter will probably come as a huge surprise to you, especially after ten years. I am Miranda’s husband, and we now live in England. Because of Miranda’s job she had to disappear quickly because threats were made against her. She had no chance to tell you before she left and dare not make any contact with you in case it put you in danger.

  But it’s been long enough now, I think. I doubt anyone will remember her. She is now known as Amanda and we have been married for ten years. We have a little girl called Jenny. This year is our tenth wedding anniversary and I wanted to do something special for Amanda. I wondered if it would be possible for you to come to England. I will arrange for the flight tickets and of course you can stay with us.

  I am writing this from my office so that Amanda does not find out as I would like your visit to be a surprise.

  I hope you don’t mind my contacting you. It wasn’t difficult to find you as Amanda told me all about her life as Miranda Bell.

  I look forward to hearing from you.

  Yours truly,

  Tony Purcell

  Amanda read the letter twice, her hands shaking. The letter was typewritten and was clearly a copy.

  “We found it on his computer,” her companion said by way of explanation. “It explains how they found you. They must have continued to monitor her mail box, even after all this time. She never received the letter.”

  “Is my grandmother safe?”

  He nodded. “We’ve moved her for the moment. The situation has been explained to her.”

  Amanda stood quickly.

  “This letter makes no difference. I’ve got to do something, I can’t just keep hiding.”

  He grabbed her arm to stop her leaving. She tried to shake him off but he held her in a solid grip. She was forced to meet his eyes.

  “ You will never be able to find him. There are no leads. No witnesses. The Police can do nothing. There is only one way.”

  She stopped trying to wrestle her arm from him and paused.

  “That is?”

  “You have to become a bargaining tool. We will let it be known that you will be willing to give yourself up if they let your husband go. That will take their focus off Jenny. We will all work together. You can wear a tracker in your watch like you used to. We’ll be behind you every step of the way.”

  Amanda realized she had no choice. It was the only way to find her husband and keep the family safe.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Sarah Greenwood knew it was time to move on. Not only was Canada calling, but it seemed like the English police were getting too close for comfort. It was a shame, Detective Constable Blake had seemed really nice, and in other circumstances, and maybe twenty years ago, things might have been different.

  Of course, Great Aunt Millie had not left her a fortune. The fictitious probate solicitors were all a front for the cover story. The pay off had been huge. Fifty Thousand Pounds. She still couldn’t believe it. Just a little information on Tony and his client Paul Justin, and she had hit the jackpot.

  Did she feel guilty? Not one bit of it. Who wouldn’t have swapped the mundane life of a legal secretary for the life she had now?

  She began to fold her clothes carefully. There were not many sweaters or slacks, she would have to buy more when she arrived at her new destination. The weather in Canada would be a little cooler than the Cayman Islands, she mused.

  She was concerned about Tony, though. He had been lovely to work for, considerate and kind. But always so busy. If he had responded to her email to talk then maybe things might have gone in a different direction. Perhaps he would have persuaded her to go to the police. But she doubted it. She didn’t know they were going to kidnap him, though, or she might have had to reconsider her actions. In fact, now that she thought about it they had asked more questions about Tony’s wife, Amanda. They’d even asked about little Jenny. She thought they just wanted information to get to that waster Paul Justin. That was why she had responded to the news report and spoken to D.C.Blake. She didn’t see any harm in telling them that much and it might help them find Tony. They were bound to let him go eventually. Just giving him a scare, no doubt. She had never set much store to the criminal clients that graced their offices. Scum of the earth, she reckoned, and they deserved everything they got. Paul Justin was no exception.

  Sarah went to the wardrobe and started taking her clothes off the hangers, slipping them over her arm and then replacing the empty hangers. She looked at her clothes lying on the bed and realized she didn’t have much to show for her years. Well, that was going to change. In Canada she would rent a little cottage, somewhere by a lake, and watch the seasons come and go. If she fancied a little sunshine then she could drive down to Florida in the winter and become a snowbird.

  She began to hum to herself when there was a knock on the door. Thinking it must be the maid, she walked over and opened the door. A tall black man in a grey suit stood there.

  “Sarah Greenwood?”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling. His hand slid into his pocket and she thought he must have something for her to sign. She watched mesmerized as he brought out a small pistol and shot her through the heart.

  The man in the grey suit shut the door and stepped over Sarah’s body. He hurried to the table where her laptop sat charging. Opening it he noticed with a smile there was no password protection. Just like her computer back at the legal office. A few taps and he had her bank account. He inserted a gadget into the drive which read her log in information, and he soon had access. She had a little over Forty Thousand Pounds left in her English account. He quickly transferred it to another account, the details of which were etched in his memory. He and Samuel King were now a bit better off than they had been ten minutes previously. He then checked on her Cayman account. It held just a few thousand Ca
yman dollars and he transferred that to his own account at Cayman National.

  Gotta love the Cayman Islands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  As the days passed Tony realized they weren’t going to interrogate him. He was being held for some other purpose and it didn’t take long for him to come to the conclusion that Amanda’s past was behind it all.

  She had eventually confessed all to him, but not until they had been married for four years and Jenny had been born. Amanda had blurted the story out on the night they had taken their little baby home for the first time. Both of them felt emotional and happy at the same time. But Amanda had been overwhelmed with issues of protection for her daughter and fear for the future, and a giant overdose of hormones.

  It had taken Tony a long time to absorb everything she told him. He felt admiration as she told him about her training and accomplishments, jealous of her liaisons as she worked in vice, and anger when he learned of her incarceration in the hole underground. It all seemed like something from a television movie, but it suddenly explained why she never spoke of her family or why she had never mentioned her past before.

  They hugged as she told him about her parents, their deaths, and how she had been brought up by her grandmother. How devastated she was to have to change her identity and move to another country and never be able to explain to her grandmother where she had gone or why.

  Tony had gradually accepted Amanda’s confession and over the years as Jenny grew they had managed to put it all behind them and enjoy the life they had together. It had never occurred to him that everything could change.

  Now the two morons that were guarding him were becoming bored, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before they took out their boredom on him. Come on, Tony, he said to himself, you’ve got a diploma in counseling, put it to good use. Calm them down. Get them to trust you.