by Ian Brett
“I do.”
“Well never again - I should have bent the rules to help them but our CO said no - I still dream about it now. I despise the inaction. As far as this lot goes, Octavian’s right, Zanic is important and if we can remove people like Patterson, then I’m happy. He’s given me the OK to put the fear of God into Bacon’s lot so I can keep them in line - that will do for now.”
“Well, I suppose so ….moral relativism is all the rage now. Anyway what about me, it seems they believe that I was set up…but how come they let me hear all the rest of it - what they want you to do?”
“Oh, I don’t think they ever doubted you, but that’s not what it’s about for them. Think about it, if they can find the original photos first Octavian’s lot have got something over you for ever. To be frank I wouldn’t be surprised if they haven’t filed them already - just in case. With all the publicity about MPs and abuse the leverage is too toxic to waste”
Charles shivered. “You mean they will try to use it over me? I think I’d prefer to resign than compromise my conscious on policy.”
I shrugged. “Perhaps I’m being cynical and I can’t think of any issue where they would need to do that but you never know. Best if I get to those pictures first.
“What about those two downstairs?” Charles changed the subject as Howard sauntered into my office. “What are you going to do with them?”
“Probably just another piece of insurance Octavian will keep up his sleeve.” Howard said. “I’ve been down to see them and we’ve had to call one of Octavian’s tame medics for Winston; the one you got in the throat Max. He’s having real breathing difficulties, probably never be able to talk again. They’ve just taken him off in an unmarked ambulance. Self-defence on your part, brilliant outcome but the security services are never ones to throw useful leverage away as you know.”
Coincidence or had Howard been listening to our conversation. I reminded myself to ask him later.
“Because?” Charles was getting a guide to the practice of governance he’d missed before.
“Because they never know when it will be necessary to remind me of my obligations.” I said. “Look I know how this works and to be honest my view is that our system - that’s Octavian and his chums - is a damn sight better than the alternative. They’re my ‘least worst option’. Nothing’s perfect but the good guys win the bad guys lose and the world is a better place.”
I could see Charles mulling this argument over. Perhaps it was a bit too utilitarian for him - he didn’t seem particularly relieved. There was silence for a few moments, then he said. “I realise that a government’s decisions can’t be just black and white. There’s always shades of grey and compromises. It’s just that the details have never been thrust so far down my throat before. I suppose there’s only one way to keep your hands clean and that is to keep out of politics.”
“And that’s not acceptable either.” I said
Howard grunted. “Look its late now. We’ll send one of our blokes back with you Charles - make sure your flat is OK. Check they’re no scrotes still hanging around and clean any mess up. Max and I need to crack on and decide what to do with that guy downstairs and how to sort Patterson. I think we are all convinced that he did kill Miller?”
There was general agreement - I looked at the clock, it was after 3:30 am and there was hardly anyone in the office, so we called our night cover to go with Charles.
We were running out of time but Howard was keen to avoid cock ups. “Max you’re dead beat - you haven’t had much sleep recently. Go home and have a rest. I’ll get the team up to speed - come in tomorrow when you feel better and well plan the next move - sorting Patterson and Bacon.
He was right. Howard’s driver took me home and I just lay down in my clothes and went to sleep.
***
This was getting to be a habit and it was afternoon by the time I got into the office next day. I was famished but Howard took me straight to the boardroom. “We need to get you up to speed. Phil has been given the pathologists report on Miller and he’s sorted out the key points, I’ll get him in.”
There were trays of sandwiches and coffee laid out so I sat down, pulled both towards me and started to wolf the food down. Everyone apart from my stomach seemed to have forgotten that I had not eaten in two days. As I continued to munch Phil linked his computer to the system and the desktop screens in front of Howard and myself came to life.
“OK you wanted to know about Professor Miller’s death. This is what we have so far. In many ways it looks just like autoerotic asphyxiation or AEA as Octavian described. Miller was found in his bedroom, hanging from the door. He was kneeling, so that he could stand up if he wanted to stop the strangulation. The actual cause of death is given as a heart attack. Looks like his oxygen levels had fallen and thrown his heart into an abnormal rhythm”
“I suppose they can confirm all this from the biochemistry?” I asked
“And these.” A set of images of Millers neck came up on our screens. “If you look at the pictures here the bruising suggests pressure on his carotid. Apparently this can cause the heart to slow down to such an extent that the person can pass out instantaneously. Basically what Octavian was talking about and that’s what they think happened here.”
I could hear the ‘but’ coming and raised my eyes from the screen.
“But after what you said Max, I looked a little harder and there are inconsistencies.” A police report appeared on the screen. “Not the least of which is that he met Patterson on the night of his death.”
Patterson again, this was getting interesting. “Have they followed him up?” I asked.
“No, looking at the highlighted part of this report it seems as if he’s in the clear. Patterson and Miller met in the pub, talked and drank for over an hour then nibbled a few crisps. Miller drank a lot and left at 9:35. Patterson stayed on had a quick meal. The CCTV then shows him catching a taxi home at 10:15. His house is on the main road not far from a set of traffic lights so we’ve got footage of the taxi dropping him 10:25. We see him going into the house and the lights going off at about 11:15 - which is when he said he went to sleep. The post mortem puts Miller’s death at some time after 12 when Patterson was tucked up in bed.”
“But…”
“Well, after a second look, they found a small residue of drug called GBH in Miller’s urine.”
I’d read something about it. “That’s some sort of date rape drug like Rohypnol?”
“It’s present in the body as a naturally occurring depressant. Just to make things confusing, small doses of synthetic GBH act as a stimulant and kids take it for the high. But larger doses can cause unconsciousness. If this was a murder, Patterson was unlucky.”
“Why unlucky? I asked.
“Because of the way it breaks down, it’s almost impossible to detect GBH after eight hours or so. It just happened that Miller’s cleaner was going away on holiday and turned up at 7:00 rather than 11:00 as she normally does, saw him hanging there and raised the alarm. So the blood samples were taken early - the lab only looked for GBH after we asked them.”
Howard who had managed to keep quiet till now interjected. “The whole thing seems so bloody unlikely. Miller was a research chemist, he would know that the combined effects of a load of beer and GBH would be likely to render him unconscious I can’t see him mixing an autoerotic wank with drugs in a way that might kill him. Anyway he’d have been unconscious after about 10:00 pm”
“And,” Phil agreed, “look at this. GBH is a clear colourless liquid and easy to slip into a drink - downside - it has a salty taste. I managed to hack the CCTV from the pub and you can see Miller and Patterson drinking together. At one point Patterson gets up buys another round but as they are being poured he comes back with three packets of crisps, a great way to mask the taste.”
I looked at the screen, it was marked as 9:05 and Phil was right. Patterson was opening a packet of salt and vinegar crisps and passing them to Miller who
started munching. Patterson then goes back to the bar for the drinks as Miller gets up and goes to the loo.
“You see the point: Patterson is feeding Miller crisps - that would cover the taste of the GBH. He had plenty of time to spike his drink while Miller was in the loo.” Phil said. The next bit is inconclusive - we can’t see because of the angle of the camera but it looks like Patterson takes Miler’s pint and drinks some of it.”
“They’ve been drinking the same beer so why would he do that?”
“Well if you look Patterson puts the pint down and fishes something out of his case. I think he’s spicing Miller’s drink.” Replied Phil. “The timings would fit.”
As far as I was concerned it all worked, circumstantial but it fitted. Anything else?” I felt that Phil had another piece of the jigsaw that he needed to tell me about.
“Well yes.” he said. “I’ve been doing a bit of research, as you said this does not sound like Miller at all. One particular statistic stands out - apparently one of the reasons AEA addicts find it so exciting is because of the danger, they like flirting with death. Many of them have signs of masochism, like old cigarette burns or knife scars. Miller’s body showed no signs of this plus the neck collar and ties used were all new. Someone like Miller is hardly likely to go to a sex shop to buy stuff it would all be on -line - I’ve checked his credit cards - no dodgy purchases now or before…..”
“Thanks Phil.” The boy had done wonders in a short time and it seemed to me that we should make a decision. “For now, let’s assume that Miller was murdered in this rather complicated and bizarre way. It strikes me that the same warped mind that came up with Charlie’s blackmail and fake pictures could have come up with this too. What do you think?”
Howard sat back and reflected. “I agree we should work on the assumption that Miller was strangled, probably by Patterson. The only problem is - how did he do that when he was home in bed?”
Chapter 8 Take Over bid.
I was sitting by my desk. Kate our office manager was perched on the edge applying make-up to my face. She was attempting to conceal the worst of a black eye and my split lip when Howard came in. He looked me over. “Going to a party are we?”
Kate harrumphed - she thinks I take all the dangerous jobs. It’s nice to be looked after and I encourage her efforts. Anyway after a moment she finished, got up and shutting the door quietly, left in what she thinks is a marked manner.
“I’m fine, thanks for your concern. This is just so I don’t frighten the kids or create too much interest in the street.”
“What I really want to know is what do we do with Bacon’s guys in the cellar? …or to be accurate one guy now.”
“What do you mean -Winston hasn’t died has he?”
“No but they’ve had to admit him to hospital - he was having trouble breathing and they haven’t sent him back yet. It seems he’ll be OK but may have trouble talking in future.”
“So are we going to have a problem?”
“No it’s been explained to him that the most expedient course of action is for him to stay in hospital under the assumed name we’ve given him and then quietly bugger off. Octavian’s lot have told the hospital that he was in some sort of industrial accident. I don’t think they believe it but what can they do?”
“So it’s just the other one - Vince, I call him dead eyes.”
“I can see that, he’s a cold fish. Vince is Bacon’s number two but we think he has plans to take over - not what’s wanted. Apparently Bacon is the acceptable face of crime. You heard Octavian, since he’s been around violence on the streets has gone down, he doesn’t sell drugs to kids and he’s kept the Eastern Block gangsters and their people trafficking out of the area.”
“Quite the philanthropist so I guess he stays” I said.
“If and it’s a big IF he plays ball.”
“Let me guess,” I said “He keeps out of Zanic and gives us Patterson’s whereabouts.”
“That’s about it, I know him from old so I’ll phone him and try to set up a meeting for you.” Howard made the call and they agreed that in exchange for Patterson, the images of Charles and a few other concessions I was to take Vince back to his master. He’d had a huge plaster on his arm and sat in my car glairing hate at me.
I suppose I couldn’t blame him he had 32 fractures in his wrist and I could see that he was in considerable pain. On top of that, as far as he was concerned I’d made him look a fool. I’d need to watch Vince carefully. For now he was sitting in the front passenger seat of my car with his good arm strapped to the plaster cast and locked with a chain to a leather belt on his waist - I wasn’t going to be daft enough to underestimate him
“Turn left here.” We were driving down a country lane and Vince was directing me to Bacon’s lair. We drove up a tarmacked track to a large Georgian style farm house. “Pull round the left side, there’s a car park by those two barns.”
I pulled up, turned the ignition off and waited, no point in rushing things. After about 30 seconds two men appeared. They stood well away from the car and waited till I put the window down.
“Mr Blake?”
I nodded.
“My name is John.” One of them said. “If you will come with me Mike will help Vince into the house and I’ll take you to see Mr. Bacon.”
That was fine by me. I got out of the car, tossed the key to Vince’s shackles to Mike and followed John into the house. This was all more civilised than I had expected but I guess you don’t get to be boss of one of the most successful crime rings in London by misreading situations.
I was shown into a modern brightly lit office as Bacon, a fit-looking man in his early 60’s, entered by a side door. Perhaps it’s arrogance but I’m one of those people who weighs others up quickly - usually, but not always, I’m right. In this case it could be important - my life could depend on him one day.
Bacon felt OK.
I thought that it would be hard to get his agreement but once given he would honour it. I could see him appraising me too. John looked over but at a nod from Bacon left the two of us together.
He pointed to two chairs either side of a small coffee table and I sat down. “You seem to have messed my guy up very efficiently Mr Blake.”
“Sorry about that, I thought they were trying to kill me.”
“Not what I ordered but Vince does tend to go off-piste sometimes, I’m going to have to watch him. Now what do you propose?”
Bacon and I talked for just over an hour and managed to reach an agreement we were both happy with. I was pleased because it meant that I could tell Charles that his problems were over. Bacon had reluctantly agreed to keep his business interests of out of Zanic when I explained the breath and significance of the new concessions I could guarantee from my employers. We shook hands.
John showed me downstairs, took me to a side door leading to the car park and left.
A narrow path led between two barns and back to my car. It was about 10 yards long and I was half way down when Vince walked round the corner. He was holding a heavy metal bar and had a friend next to him. I heard a rattle behind me and as I turned, another door opened and two men ran out. Big guys, they looked like ex-heavyweights turned to seed.
“Had a good chat - came to a nice agreement did we?” Vince sneered.
“Why don’t you ask your boss?”
“I don’t think I’ll bother. You made a deal with him - but you didn’t fucking make one with me. I’m taking over, see. I’ve lined up some new partners and they don’t like either of you.” Two shots rang out from the main house and Vince smiled. He banged the pipe in his hand. “That’s one down now let’s see how you like a broken wrist.” He turned to his mate. “Do you think he’ll scream much before I kill him?”
He pointed to an old stone mounting block. “Put his arm on that.
I suppose he expected me to run. I turned, the heavyweights were less than 10 feet behind me. I walked towards Vince talking as I went. “Look you don’t need t
o do this I…”
I leapt forward. Lacing my fingers through the heavy brass knuckle dusters I carried in my pocket. I smashed them down on the plaster over Vince’s wrist.
He screamed
I grabbed his arm, twisted and thrust my hip into his side. The momentum drove him crashing into his mate. Vince dropped the bar. I caught it and drove the side into his mate’s temple. He went down like brick. Vince was still screaming. I kicked his feet from under him and he fell heavily smashing his head against the stone block.
“Fuck me.” One of the heavyweight’s fumbled into his jacket for his gun. I threw the bar at his head. His fingers had just grasped the stock as it hit on the bridge of the nose.
Blood exploded from his face.
He went down on his knees covering his face with his hands and I kicked him hard in the side of the head. I leapt behind him His friend was slow to turn. He seemed amazed at what was happening. I scythed his legs from under him and hacked the brass knuckles into his neck as he fell. I felt the thud as they severed his spine.
A bullet whisked past my head. Vince was leaning against the barn with a small automatic in his left hand. Tears of pain were streaming down his face but he lined the gun up again. The heavyweight was struggling to his feet and I pulled him up to stand in front of me as Vince fired again. The heavyweight jerked as a bullet caught him in the guts.
Suddenly a silhouette appeared behind Vince. It was Bacon. As he moved into the light I could see that there was a huge gash on his head. He held an old fashioned chromed magnum .38 steadily in his hand. If I’d misjudged the man I was dead.
“Taking over are you?” He said.
Vince turned, gaping in surprise. “Look I -.”
“You never could plan for shit” Bacon shot him through his open mouth as he screamed.
I looked round. John and two other men were coming out of the house. I braced myself but was relieved to see that they were waiting for Bacon’s orders. The passageway was a mess. What was left of Vince’s head was dripping down the barn wall.