‘I know what they did to him.’
‘Him? Does he have a name?’
‘They’ll kill me if I tell you.’
‘You’ve already said that,’ Larry reminded Pinto.
‘My client will not respond to you two playing the good cop, bad cop routine.’
Isaac smiled. He and his former DI, Farhan Ahmed, had had the patter off to a tee; Larry had not yet perfected the technique.
‘I suggest,’ Isaac said, ‘that you inform your client of the seriousness of this matter.’
‘My client is well aware. However, he is frightened for his life.’
‘We can ensure that he is protected.’
‘Not in prison, you can’t,’ Pinto said.
‘It may be possible to avoid prison if you assist us.’
‘If they know that I’ve told you anything, then I’m a dead man, and I don’t want to end up like him.’
‘Him? Who is he?’
‘I’m not talking.’
‘And if you walk out of here now, free as a bird?’
‘They’ll know I’ve talked.’
‘Unless you speak now, I’ll ensure that I will personally escort you out of Challis Street Police Station and thank you for your assistance.’
‘You wouldn’t do that!’ an alarmed voice said.
‘This is unacceptable,’ Katrina Hatcher said. ‘You’re threatening my client.’
‘I agree,’ Isaac said. ‘He’s free to go. I’ll escort him out of the police station now.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Pinto said.
‘Once you’ve gone, I’ll put the word out on the street that we have a name for the torso, and a list of potential murderers.’
‘I’ll be dead within an hour, chopped up like he was.’
‘He?’ Larry asked, realising that the man was about to crack.
‘I only knew him as Dave. That’s the honest truth.’
‘Why was he killed?’ Isaac asked.
‘He cheated on them.’
‘Them?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Okay, that’s fine. Thanks for your assistance. You’re free to go.’
‘You’re sending me to my death.’
‘Have you seen a photo of Dave’s body, or what remained of it?’ Larry asked.
‘No. It was dark under that bridge, spooky even. I just did what I was told and left.’
Isaac realised that some gentle questioning would disarm the man further. ‘What was the significance of Regent’s Canal?’
‘They wanted to send a clear message.’
‘Why?’
‘If you cheat them, that’s what happens to you.’
‘And Dave cheated?’
‘Yes.’
‘So why were you given the job of dumping him?’
‘We were both cheating, only they decided to kill one of us, scare the other.’
‘Are there others involved?’ Larry asked.
‘There are a few.’
‘Were you there when Dave was killed?’ Isaac asked. Pinto’s lawyer was observing intently, saying little. Isaac and Larry were conducting the interview of the now-nervous Pinto according to police procedures.
‘I saw him die.’
‘Was he alive when they chopped him up?’
‘They shot him in the head first.’
‘Any idea where the head is now?’ Isaac asked.
‘No. That’s the truth. Don’t put me in prison, please,’ Pinto said.
‘There’s only one chance for you: the full truth.’
‘It’s too late.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘If you catch some of them, there’ll always be more. They're like ants scurrying across the ground. They’re vermin.’
‘Who are they?’
‘Charge me, lock me up in your prison cell. I’ve no more to say.’
‘Miss Hatcher, I suggest that you consult with your client. We will take a ten-minute break,’ Isaac said.
***
‘What do you reckon?’ Larry asked outside the interview room.
‘Who or what could scare a man like that?’ Isaac asked.
‘A crime syndicate probably, but do we have any that vicious in London?’
‘We’ve got everything here. We need to dig deeper, find someone who understands the dark underbelly of the city.’
The two men drank coffee from the machine in the hallway; it tasted awful, but there was no time to go out for anything better. A police officer had taken in drinks for Vicenzo Pinto and his lawyer. Katrina Hatcher had asked for a ten-minute extension. Isaac took the opportunity to phone DCS Goddard with an update, and to call his sergeant, Wendy Gladstone.
Goddard, as expected, was full of praise, looking for an early wrap-up on the murder case. Wendy, more circumspect, was anxious for a clear direction.
‘According to Pinto, the dead man’s name was Dave.’
‘Did he give you a surname?’ Wendy asked.
‘He said he didn’t know.’
‘Do you believe him?’
‘Not sure. The man is frightened to tell us more.’
‘Bridget has been checking prison records, but a spider’s web tattoo is nothing special. I don’t think Dave will help her much,’ Wendy said.
‘Just keep trying.’
***
Thirty minutes passed before the interview recommenced. Isaac could see that Vince Pinto was calmer.
‘My client wishes to make a statement,’ Katrina Hatcher said.
‘Dave and I became involved with a crime syndicate. I only knew him for six months, but we were friends. He came from Liverpool; that’s all I ever knew, and I never knew his real name. He sometimes called himself Dave Simmonds, other times it was Doug Fairweather. He did not talk about himself, and I had no idea if he had been married or had children.
‘We’d just done a run, decided to cream some off the top for ourselves. There was plenty, and we thought no one would notice. However, we didn’t count on a snotty-nosed accountant they employed. They picked us up as we were enjoying a quiet drink at a pub. Although with Dave it was never quiet.’
‘Why do you say it was never quiet?’ Isaac asked.
‘Dave was not a drinker, no more than a couple of pints, but he was sociable and loud.’
‘The pub?’
‘It varied, but most times it was the Pride of Paddington, down on Craven Road.’
‘I know it,’ Larry said.
‘You have no criminal record. Why were you involved with a crime syndicate?’ Isaac asked.
‘You’ll find out soon enough. I’m a gambler, not very good either. It’s an addiction. I’ve been to Gamblers’ Anonymous, but it makes no difference.’
‘What type of gambling?’ Larry asked.
‘Horses, greyhounds, cards, poker machines. Most of the time it’s under control, but occasionally…’
‘A lot of money?’ Isaac asked.
‘More than I could hope to cover.’
‘Were you set up?’
‘Probably. That’s how they get people to work for them.’
‘Do they have a name?’
‘Those in charge remain hidden. The only people I ever saw were the underlings. Whoever is behind this is very secretive, possibly very powerful and influential.’
‘What happened?’
‘I’m down nearly one hundred thousand pounds and no way to cover my debt.’
‘Where was this?’
‘Down near Camden, a seedy gambling joint. I was playing poker and badly. Anyway, there I am, and there’s no way I’m leaving, at least walking.’
‘They would have killed you?’
‘A dead man can’t be bled for money, but they would have smashed my knees.’
‘You’re still walking,’ Larry said.
‘The club sold my debt. I was there for two hours with two heavies breathing over me, threatening to pummel me, roughing me up. I even peed in my trousers; I was that fri
ghtened.’
‘Why are you telling us this now?’
‘I’m dead whatever happens. If I leave here, they’ll know I’ve spoken. At least in prison my death won’t be the same as Dave’s.’
‘Did you see him die?’
‘Yes.’
‘And when he was cut up?’
‘I was there, but I didn’t take part. There were two of them who went at him with a chainsaw.’
‘Why the dismemberment?’
‘A warning to those who disobeyed or cheated on them, and also to anyone who talks to the police.’
‘Coming back to the club,’ Isaac said. The lawyer said nothing.
‘After two hours, a man comes in. He’s dressed in a dark blue suit, or at least I think it was, as he remained partially hidden. He spoke with an educated accent.’
‘And then what?’
‘He made me an offer. If I came and worked for the organisation that he represented, my debt would be absolved.’
‘You accepted?’
‘What could I do? I knew I was not leaving there in one piece if I refused.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘He pushed some documents across the table, and I signed the last page, initialled the others.’
‘What did it say?’
‘Are you kidding? I just signed, that’s all.’
‘After that were you free to go?’
‘They kept a watch on me. There’ll be someone outside this station.’
‘Do you have a name for the man in the suit?’
‘He kept his face hidden, and no, he did not give a name.’
‘Would you recognise him again if you saw him?’
‘The voice maybe.’
‘Describe him?’
‘Average height, well dressed, spoke with an educated accent, and his nails were manicured. That’s all I can tell you.’
‘Do you know his position in the crime syndicate?’
‘No. I assume he was someone paid to deal with people like me. As I told you, the big men remain hidden behind a veil of invisibility. Catch them, and you’ve caught some big fish, but they’ll be able to wriggle out of it.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘That’s what the suit said, and he wasn’t a man to mince words.’
‘What kind of criminal activity are we talking about here?’
‘Drugs, more drugs than you can imagine.’
‘Dave was a gambler?’ Isaac asked.
‘He was just a man down on his luck. He said he’d been in jail for a crime he didn’t commit, but I didn’t believe him.’
‘That he’d been in prison?’
‘No, I believed that, but a crime he didn’t commit. If you let out all the prisoners in jail that said that, you wouldn’t have anyone left inside. He could be a violent bastard sometimes.’
‘You saw this violence?’
‘Once. We were drinking, minding our own business, when a drunk comes over and tries to pick a fight with Dave.’
‘Did Dave provoke him?’
‘No, he minded his own business. Anyway, the drunk is getting difficult; Dave’s ignoring him. The drunk grabs Dave by the collar, aiming to pull him around. Dave loses his temper and smashes the guy in the face. Ten minutes later, Dave’s as calm as a leaf, drinking a pint.’
It was six in the evening. Isaac did not intend to postpone the interview until the next day, but everyone was in need of food. Pinto was talking, and there were still more questions to ask. Isaac called a halt to the interview and ordered food for everyone: the standard diet for a long night in the police station, pizza.
Once everyone was fed, Isaac was back into his questioning. He could see that Pinto was falling asleep, the result of a good feed and a long day. Not that Isaac intended to ease off. This was his arena, somewhere he had succeeded many times in cracking the toughest nut. And from what he could see, Pinto was a very tough nut.
Vicenzo Pinto had no criminal record, apart from a succession of speeding fines and parking tickets, but no history of violence, and certainly nothing to suggest that he was any more than a minor functionary in the drug syndicate. The most the man had achieved in life was to work in a burger bar, and as for educational qualifications, there were none.
If the crime syndicate was as well organised as Pinto had said, then it needed smart people, and there was the man who had thrust the papers in front of Pinto to sign. If he was only another employee, then who was in charge? Who was Mr Big?
Isaac had grown weary of arresting the minor players, having them charged and convicted, only to know that the main culprit remained free and at large. In a previous case two of the murders had been government sanctioned, yet an abused woman resided in prison for the killing of another. She had had a reason to hate the man, not that it abrogated her from the crime, but there had been two other murders and those responsible for the assassinations had no doubt received a pat on the back for a job well done.
‘Let me come back to the syndicate,’ Isaac said. ‘You’ve told us that they are involved with drugs.’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘What type of drugs?’
‘Heroin, and lots of it. Sometimes cocaine.’
‘What was your function in the syndicate?’
‘It varied, but most times I was transporting it from one place to the next.’
‘In the UK?’
‘Mainly, but sometimes in France.’
‘Let us start with France. We are aware that you made three trips there in the last six months.’
‘If I tell you, they’ll kill me.’
‘And if you don’t, they will anyway. Your only hope is to place your trust in us.’
Katrina Hatcher leant over towards her client. ‘The DCI is right.’
‘I know that,’ Pinto said.
‘If you work with us, we’ll ensure that your prison sentence will be lenient.’
‘You want me to grass?’
‘For a man with no criminal record, you’ve certainly picked up the lingo.’
‘That’s Dave. He had a colourful turn of phrase. No doubt from all the time he spent in prison.’
‘How long was that?’
‘He said eight years, but I don’t know if it was true. He said he was going to get the bastard who put him there.’
‘What did he mean? The man who stitched him up, the police officer who arrested him, or the judge who put him in jail?’
‘After a few pints, he would talk, but it was never very much. I’ve no idea, and that’s the honest truth.’
‘Let’s return to France,’ Isaac said.
‘I would go there, pick up a truck and bring it back.’
‘And the trucks were loaded with drugs?’
‘Well hidden.’
‘Customs checks on entering England?’
‘They were only interested in case we’d picked up some Afghans in Calais. Anyway, if they had stripped the vehicles down, they would have been hard pushed to find anything.’
‘Why?’
‘I saw how they did it once, a welded compartment inside the transmission housing. Also, they had welded on extra parts that looked like the chassis. It was dead easy.’
‘How much would you carry?’
‘At least fifty kilos of heroin, as well as cocaine,’ Pinto said.
‘That’s five million pounds on the street,’ Larry, who had left the questioning since they had resumed to Isaac, said.
‘Each trip had that much heroin?’ Isaac asked.
‘I only saw what they took out that one time.’
‘If you made three trips, that’s close to fifteen million pounds.’
‘Maybe it is, but I was only concerned about the money I owed them and my life. I knew they were vicious.’
‘How? Apart from threatening you when you owed money due to your poker playing, you’ve not mentioned any other violence.’
‘They were always threatening.’
‘But you
and Dave still decided to cheat them?’
‘We were desperate. Dave had driven a truck over from France. He phoned me up from Dover, let me know that one of their hiding places was visible, and would I be interested in going halves with him.’
‘You agreed?’
‘I needed the money. I wanted to go back to what I was doing before.’
‘Flipping burgers?’ Larry said.
‘With the drugs we took, there was enough to buy my own business, even go to Italy; get away from those bastards.’
Isaac looked up at the clock; it was 8.30 p.m. The questioning had been going for eight hours. All the participants were exhausted, but he was determined to continue. Pinto appeared not to be guilty of murder and had been compromised due to his gambling debts. However, Dave seemed to have been someone in need of a job and money. If the eight years in prison was correct, it might be possible to trace him.
‘Did you ever take a photo of Dave?’ Isaac asked.
‘On my phone.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Outside. One of your officers took it before I was slammed up in here.’
Isaac halted the interview, and he and Larry went to find the phone. Pinto and his lawyer waited in the interview room. A cup of tea was given to both of them.
The two police officers retrieved the phone and returned to the interview room. ‘Show us,’ Isaac said.
Pinto scrolled through his photos. ‘That’s him.’
Larry forwarded the image to Bridget who was still in the office with Wendy.
‘Interview concluded at 8.50 p.m. We will resume tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. prompt,’ Isaac said.
Pinto was returned to his cell. Katrina Hatcher left the building ten minutes later, but not before speaking to Isaac. ‘My client is innocent of murder,’ she said.
‘He’s admitted to drug smuggling, disposing of a body.’
‘You cannot charge him with murder.’
‘Let’s see,’ Isaac said.
Chapter 6
Isaac and Larry walked up the two flights of stairs to the Homicide office. It was late. Isaac remembered that he had arranged to meet with Jess, an attempt to rekindle their romance. He phoned her. ‘Forget it,’ the only two words she said. He knew by the way it was said that she was referring to the romance, not the fact that he was standing her up again. It seemed to him that a normal life with the woman he wanted was not possible.
DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1 Page 88