DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 1

by Phillip Strang

  ‘Rubbish!’ Fortescue said. ‘He was the most honest man you’d ever meet. He wouldn’t last thirty minutes as a member of parliament.’

  ‘Do you need to be dishonest to be an MP?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘You know what I mean. Here, you need to play the game, bend with the wind, follow the party line. Not always so easy.’

  ‘Coming back to Lord Allerton’s confession,’ Larry said.

  ‘What confession?’

  ‘Lord Allerton phoned our DCI and stated that he was coming into the police station to confess and to name names. Was yours one of those names?’

  Fortescue approached perilously close to Larry. ‘The next time we meet I will be with my lawyer. In the meantime, I will contact Commissioner Davies and make an official complaint. If you’re a police officer next week, it will be more by good luck than anything else. Your career is finished.’

  ‘Is that a threat, sir?’ Larry asked.

  ‘It’s a statement of fact. Now, I suggest you leave before I have you thrown out.’

  Chapter 23

  Detective Chief Superintendent Goddard reacted with alarm when Isaac informed him of his DI and sergeant’s meeting with Miles Fortescue. ‘How can I protect them, you?’ Goddard said. ‘Before it was always Davies trying to exert his influence, look after his own people, but now an official complaint from an MP, no less.’

  ‘He’s involved.’

  ‘Can you prove it?’

  ‘Not conclusively. We need him to break first.’

  ‘And how do you plan to do that?’

  ‘We keep the pressure on.’

  ‘I thought Serious and Organised Crime Command were dealing with the drug trafficking,’ Goddard said. He was stamping up and down his office on the third floor at Challis Street Police Station. Isaac Cook, his DCI, was standing still, allowing the man the opportunity to vent his spleen. Isaac knew the routine; the man would blow his top for a few minutes and then calm down. Only then could they talk seriously.

  Isaac knew that if his DI and sergeant were suspended pending a full enquiry, then he was threatened, as well as his DCS.

  ‘Give me the facts,’ Goddard said. He had sat down behind his desk.

  ‘Len Donaldson of Serious and Organised Crime Command is working on the drug trafficking. We’re working on the murders. We know who the murderers are: Devlin O’Shaughnessy and Steve Walters.’

  ‘Isn’t that the end of your work? Just wrap that up, and our side of the case is complete.’

  ‘O’Shaughnessy’s under lock and key; Walters is still at large.’

  ‘Walters killed Allerton?’

  ‘We found prints on the Land Rover. It’s him alright, and we can prove he killed Hughenden. So far, there is no one that we can prove for the murder of Rodrigo Fuentes.’

  ‘Then catch Walters.’

  ‘Not so easy. We’ve not been able to find him yet.’

  ‘Unless you can prove Fortescue’s direct involvement in the murders, you’ll not win on this one.’

  ‘He’s not our primary suspect.’

  ‘Who is?’

  ‘Keith Codrington, Lord Allerton’s cousin.’

  ‘And where is he?’

  ‘His whereabouts have always been unclear. We haven’t located him yet.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ Goddard asked. ‘Every time you put me on the spot. Have I got to take on the commissioner again to save your skin?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’m afraid you must. We need the person or persons who ordered the deaths of five people that we know of. They, or he, are more dangerous than those who carried out the crimes. There’s one more person to pressure.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Jacob Griffiths.’

  ‘The Jacob Griffiths!’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘Make it official. Make sure you interview him at Challis Street and make sure he has legal representation. I don’t want last year’s businessman of the year talking to the media.’

  ‘Yes, sir. By the book.’

  ***

  Jacob Griffiths reluctantly presented himself at Challis Street. The man who accompanied him was tall and thin. He looked expensive.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ Isaac said. Len Donaldson stood alongside him.

  The four men entered the interview room. Griffiths sat facing Isaac, the lawyer sat opposite Donaldson. Donaldson was on edge; Isaac could tell the man was anxious to wrap up the case.

  ‘My client has come here of his own free will,’ the lawyer said.

  ‘We are aware of that,’ Isaac said.

  With all four men comfortable, Isaac commenced the interview, remembering to follow official procedures. DCS Goddard stood in another room, observing on a monitor.

  ‘Mr Griffiths, you were a friend of Lord Allerton?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘A good friend. We were at Eton together.’

  ‘Along with Keith Codrington and Miles Fortescue.’

  ‘We were all friends.’

  ‘According to our enquiries, there was a special bond between the four of you,’ Donaldson said.

  ‘That’s correct. It has served us well over the years.’

  ‘My client is here to assist you with your enquiry into the tragic death of his friend,’ the lawyer, Andrew Rushton, said. Isaac studied the man. He was in his early fifties, and he had a formidable reputation, even at Challis Street. It was the first time he had met the man in person, but he knew he would need to be careful in how he phrased his questions.

  Griffiths’ face was well known from the constant adverts on the television, proudly proclaiming that his products were the cheapest, his vegetables and fruit the freshest. Len Donaldson knew him from his beaming face on the poster at the local supermarket he frequented every week.

  ‘We understand that Mr Griffiths is giving us his valuable time.’

  ‘Can we come back to Lord Allerton?’ Donaldson asked.

  ‘Tragic,’ Griffiths said.

  ‘We know that on the day of his death he was coming to this station to confess.’

  ‘Confess to what?’

  ‘I received a phone call from him in the morning to say that he would be here,’ Isaac said. ‘And that he’d tell us who was involved in the drug syndicate and who was the person in control.’

  ‘What drug syndicate?’ Griffiths replied.

  ‘If you are attempting to find guilt against my client due to a friendship, then you will need to be very careful,’ Rushton said, with steely eyes.

  ‘We’re trying to ascertain the facts. We do not believe that Lord Allerton was a major player, although we believe one of his friends is.’

  ‘It’s not me,’ Griffiths protested. Too strongly for Donaldson.

  ‘Our investigations indicate that Keith Codrington is the ringleader and that Lord Allerton was purely a minor functionary. We are aware that his financial position has dramatically improved in the last twelve to eighteen months, as has yours and that of Miles Fortescue.’

  ‘I’m an entrepreneur. That’s the definition.’

  ‘We believe that the scale of the operation required a large cash injection, more than Codrington could manage. Our enquiries confirm that the man was academically brilliant, highly skilled in international trade, and capable of setting up the large-scale importation and distribution of illegal drugs.’

  Griffiths was on his feet. ‘Are you accusing me of being involved?’

  ‘Sit down,’ Rushton said, attempting to grab the man by the arm.

  ‘We are conducting enquiries. We’re not accusing anyone, but we are aware of some of the shipment dates, and we are correlating monies into your account and others.’

  ‘My financial records are not for public scrutiny.’

  ‘They will be,’ Donaldson said, knowing full well that a man such as Griffiths would have many bank accounts, and not all of them would be easy to trace.

  ‘Without Keith Codrington, we will place charges on those who financed him. Not only is ther
e drug trafficking, there are also the murders of five people. We know the men who killed them, but the person giving the order is also subject to the charge of murder under English law. Believe me, we will continue with our enquiries, including the movements of all those suspected. We will make the connections, we will place charges,’ Isaac said.

  Jacob Griffiths was sitting ashen-faced. ‘My client is innocent,’ his lawyer said.

  ‘We’ve not accused him of any crime,’ Donaldson said.

  ‘Just one more question,’ Isaac said. ‘Where is Keith Codrington?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Griffiths replied.

  ‘When did you last see him?’

  ‘Two weeks ago.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Griffiths. We will contact you if we have any further questions.’

  The beaming face that confronted Len Donaldson at his supermarket every Saturday was not visible as the master shop owner left Challis Street.

  ‘Well handled,’ DCS Goddard said to the two police officers afterwards.

  ‘What do you reckon, sir?’ Donaldson asked.

  ‘Can you prove it?’

  ‘In time, but without Codrington it’s going to be difficult.’

  ‘Time is the one luxury you don’t have.’

  ***

  Jacob Griffiths and Miles Fortescue, fearful of being seen together, kept in contact by phone.

  ‘There’s no way out,’ Fortescue admitted. A quick phone call to Alwyn Davies to register an official complaint had been easy to do, but if there was any hint of his guilt, Fortescue knew the commissioner would pull back.

  ‘What are you planning to do?’ Griffiths asked. For once, he was at a loss on how to proceed. In the past, whether it was a takeover of another business or facing financial ruin, there were always options: favours to pull in, pressure to be applied. But now, with an impending arrest due to his involvement in drug trafficking, as well as the crime of murder, he knew full well who would give him support – nobody. And there were some who would put the boot in, try to grab his assets. Even if he was willing to accept a prison term, Griffiths knew there was no way his business empire would survive.

  ‘I’ve no answer,’ Fortescue replied. ‘We’re damned whatever we do. Codrington landed us with his dirty work. We’ll be the ones in prison while he’s swanning around the world.’

  ‘Any idea where he’s gone?’

  ‘Somewhere that has no extradition policy and is willing to take bribes.’

  ‘That could be anywhere. In the meantime, what do we do?’

  ‘We wait and see. And besides, what proof do the police have? We’ve admitted to our friendship with the man, although I lied that I had seen Allerton that day.’

  ‘So did I,’ Griffiths replied.

  ‘Look, I’m certain the police have nothing on us.’

  ‘If they do?’

  ‘It’ll be easy to confess to lesser crimes. What did we really do? We loaned Codrington money. It’s not as if we were actively involved.’

  ‘But the money we received? There’s no way they’ll believe it was the proceeds of honest graft.’

  ‘You can doctor your financial records, I can’t,’ Fortescue said. A smart political animal, he had a way out, but it was risky, and he would not consider it until the optimum moment. He needed to find Codrington, but failing that, he needed to move the blame from himself. He wouldn’t be the first politician to be convicted of a crime; he wouldn’t be the last. He knew that his political career would not survive, and his constituency would not endorse his re-election, but that was not important. He had enough money, and if he had to follow Codrington into exile, so be it. All he had to do was to make the case against him go cold while firming the blame on Jacob Griffiths. He knew it would not be too difficult.

  ***

  The team stayed late that night at Challis Street. The conclusion to the case that had seemed so strong was falling apart. Apart from a watertight case against O’Shaughnessy, they had little else to show for their efforts. And although Isaac was still hoping to rekindle his romance with Jess O’Neil, every time they tried along came another twist and turn with the current case and any arrangements to meet up were scuttled.

  The death of Lord Allerton was big news, and the media were clamouring for an arrest. Lady Allerton had been on the television, as stoic as when Isaac and Len Donaldson had met her. Isaac, an emotional man, could not understand how she did it, but he realised that his ancestry, Jamaican and black, was very different from being white and privileged. Bridget had found out that not only was Laura Allerton the daughter of a Duke, but that she could also claim descent through a succession of ancestors from a former Tudor ruler of England.

  ‘We need another conviction,’ Larry said.

  ‘Steve Walters, anything on him?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘We’ve got an APW out on him. If he’s caught, we’ll be able to charge him.’

  ‘What do you think has happened to him?’

  ‘Think or know?’

  ‘Either.’

  ‘He can’t hide out in England indefinitely. His best bet is to skip the country.’

  ‘All airports, Eurostar, ferries being monitored?’

  ‘Standard procedure.’

  ‘There’s not a lot more we can do there. It’s no use looking for him in his old haunts. He’s not likely to be at any of them.’

  ‘Probably not, but he’s not a smart man. O’Shaughnessy is, supposedly, and we nabbed him not far from here.’

  ‘Okay,’ Isaac said. ‘Let’s focus on Fortescue and Griffiths. What do we reckon?’

  Len Donaldson, who was also present, answered. ‘They’re guilty.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘They’ve not been involved with the murders, but they must know something.’

  ‘If they won’t talk?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘We apply pressure. What’s the worst that can happen?’

  ‘Our careers,’ Isaac replied.

  ‘You’re not saying we back off?’

  ‘Not at all. Wendy and Larry are in trouble as it is. It can’t get much worse.’

  ‘It can, but we still go on.’

  Wendy shifted uncomfortably on her chair, anxious to get home. If her time as a police officer were to end, she would not be too disappointed. Larry still harboured hopes of promotion, and suspension with a disciplinary warning was not to his taste. He had not liked Fortescue, and the man had been too eager to take offence. A seasoned politician would have handled an aspersion about his character better than he had. He intended to maintain the heat although he would need to be subtle.

  ‘We’ll keep the heat on Griffiths,’ Isaac said when Larry elucidated his plan regarding Fortescue. ‘Bridget, what do we have on Griffiths that we can use?’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Any dirt, dodgy dealings, financial irregularities.’

  ‘I’m checking, but so far the man’s clean.’

  Chapter 24

  An unexpected phone call at Challis Street. ‘Manchester Airport. We’ve picked up someone you know.’

  Bridget had taken the phone call. ‘Who?’ she asked.

  ‘Someone trying to board a flight to Bangkok. He tried to slip through immigration using a forged passport. Our people picked it up straight away.’

  ‘But who?’ Bridget had to ask again. The lady on the other end was obviously more interested in the diligence of her people than who they had detained.

  ‘Steven Walters. We have your name as the person to contact.’

  ‘Is he secure?’

  ‘He’s not going anywhere.’

  ‘Then make sure he doesn’t. No smart-arse lawyer getting him bail. My people will be there soon enough.’

  Isaac, who was in his office, had come over to Bridget’s desk in response to her waving. ‘It’s Walters,’ she whispered, her hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone while the woman in Manchester continued to talk.

  ‘Secure?’ Isaac asked.

  ‘That�
�s what she says.’

  Isaac phoned Larry. ‘I need you up in Manchester. They’ve picked up Walters.’

  ‘I could drive. I’m out with Wendy, checking addresses, trying to get an angle on Griffiths and Fortescue. I believe we’ve enough to push Fortescue again.’

  ‘How long to Manchester?’

  ‘Three hours. Where to?’ Larry asked.

  ‘The airport. Bridget will give you the contact once you’re on your way. By the way, what do you have on Fortescue?’

  ‘We’ve proved that Griffiths was at Fortescue’s house in Belgravia.’

  ‘At the same time as Allerton?’

  ‘Yes. The times match.’

  It was a sorry looking man who confronted Wendy and Larry on their arrival at Manchester Airport. The police cells had been strengthened for terrorists after the attacks on the city in the past. As it turned out, Walters was their inaugural client since the work had completed.

  ‘That bastard,’

  ‘Which bastard?’ Wendy asked later when the formalities had been dealt with.

  ‘The bastard who sold me the passport. If ever I get my hands on him…’

  ‘It depends whether he ends up in the same prison as you.’

  ‘O’Shaughnessy’s the one you want,’ Walters said. Larry recognised the signs: blame someone else, blame life, blame anyone and anything.

  ‘We’ve already got him, you know that.’

  ‘He killed Stewart.’

  ‘What about Pinto, Fuentes?’

  ‘I know he killed Fuentes. You can’t pin that on me.’

  ‘Are you saying that you were involved in the death of Pinto?’ Larry knew the truth, but if Walters would give details about Fuentes, it may wrap up that murder as well.

  ‘I didn’t kill him,’ Walters said, but that was already known by the team at Challis Street. The garage where Pinto had been hidden showed only proof of O’Shaughnessy, although the victim had probably been murdered elsewhere.

  The holding cells at Manchester Airport were not the ideal location to conduct an interrogation, but if the apprehended villain wanted to talk, then neither Wendy nor Larry were going to stop him. A local DI was also present to corroborate that all was in accordance with regulations.