They would be made to pay for betraying him. The former Prime Minister would be first on his list.
Alan Parsons had been contacted by the leader of the Labour Party in the Lords, who had said that they expected Arthur to resign if he was charged. He then reminded Alan of the changes to the legislation relating to their Lordships, currently being discussed; legislation that the Labour Party had commenced in 2009.
Arthur read the text once more.
The Baroness has today put forward proposals for new rules that include the ability to expel Members of the House of Lords from their duties if they are guilty of an offence, and she has said that in the cases that we know about, she is prepared to bring forward emergency sanctions to deal with those issues.
The underlining had been provided by the Party apparatchiks.
Arthur would get his deal and defy his party. If the whole house wanted to vote to suspend him, so be it, but it wouldn’t be so easy when they heard that he had walked away from Scotland Yard with a Conditional Caution.
Chapter 82
Highbury Clinic, Blackstock Rd, North London. Sunday, 8pm.
A bright young woman from Vastrick Security had delivered some clean clothes and a suit from my flat. She also brought Dee a couple of outfits. That was a little optimistic, as I didn’t think Dee would need them for a while yet. I was also informed that a new door had been fitted to my flat, courtesy of Vastrick, and that it had a seven lever security lock. I took the key for my new front door. The young woman kissed the sleeping Dee’s forehead and took a second to arrange her hair before departing.
Don Fisher had gone home with his tail between his legs after a tongue lashing from the redoubtable Mrs. Fisher. I could tell that she was a rock journalist by her extensive vocabulary of swear words. There was a time in the verbal tirade when she had used up her entire vocabulary of expletives, and she’d had to resort to foreign swear words.
Having heard this through the wall, I was more than a little scared when she came into Dee’s room. I stood up nervously. Maddie Fisher was still a good looking woman, and when she smiled she looked quite stunning.
“You must be Josh,” she said in a matter-of-fact way, taking hold of my chin between her thumb and forefinger, turning my head from side to side as if examining a racehorse. “Mmm. Lavender was right, you are a handsome boy.”
I hadn’t been a boy for close to twenty years, but who was I to argue with such an icon of good taste?
Maddie spoke to a smiling, and awake, Dee for a few minutes, and then said to me in conspiratorial tones, “Josh, if the arrangement Don made with Dee isn’t generous enough, let me know. Don can be a tight bugger if he isn’t watched.”
Dee said she would see Maddie in the morning, and wished her goodnight. Maddie responded in kind and added, “Oh, I almost forgot. Lavender said she wanted my opinion as to whether Josh was a good kisser.”
She walked towards me, put her manicured hand on my cheek, and said, “Just kidding.” I relaxed visibly, and she kissed me anyway.
“Mmm. Not bad,” she said, winking at Dee, who would laugh her stitches out if she wasn’t careful.
I yawned so widely that my jaw almost locked. I kissed Dee, and lay down on the sofa bed that the nurse had made up for me. I lay on my side and looked at Dee as she looked at me. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, and suddenly it was morning.
Chapter 83
New Scotland Yard, London. Monday, 10:30am.
The team that had parted on Friday afternoon had now reconvened. Alan Parsons was sitting next to Lord Hickstead, and opposite was Inspector Boniface and DCI Coombes.
We were watching from a room down the corridor via CCTV. When I say we, I mean myself, Don Fisher, Tom Vastrick, the two Detective Sergeants and an interloper, Lavender Fisher.
When I had been waiting for the car to take us to Scotland Yard, Don Fisher joined me on the kerb. A second or two later someone linked my arm, and I looked around to see Lavender linking arms with us both and grinning from ear to ear.
“The doctor said I could go, and Mum thought it was a good idea.”
I was about to ask a question when Don Fisher said, “Don’t ask, Josh. It isn’t worth it.”
So now here we were, the six of us, in a semi darkened room, looking at our tormentor.
***
After the necessary procedural niceties, DCI Coombes got straight down to business.
“Lord Hickstead, I trust you had a relaxing weekend. Ours was rather hectic.”
“Yes, you mentioned to me on Saturday that my Citysafe box wasn’t as Citsyafe as I’d thought it was. I understand its contents were stolen,” the peer smiled.
“Quite a coincidence, I think you will agree.”
Alan Parsons interjected before Lord Hickstead could respond.
“Come now, Chief Inspector, you can’t be suggesting that my client robbed his own box, surely?”
“Luckily for your client, Mr Parsons, we can only prosecute on evidence,” Coombes stated. “What I believe or do not believe is neither here nor there.”
“If we could set the animosity aside for a few moments, perhaps we could discuss how this case is to proceed,” Parsons continued irritably. “I have spoken with my client and, faced with the evidence, whilst he admits nothing, he understands that there is a possibility he would be convicted of the Hammond blackmail, but I think we would all have to concede that there was at least reasonable doubt about the other charges.”
“What are you suggesting?” Coombes asked.
“Well, we could reach some kind of agreement, to save ourselves and the courts a lot of inconvenience. Perhaps his Lordship might plead guilty to a lesser charge, and the CPS could be persuaded that my client was emotionally disturbed when he acted as he did, trying to recover money he believed he had been entitled to. We could then look at a suspended sentence, perhaps some probation, and keep the whole thing off the front pages of the tabloids.”
Coombes and Boniface whispered to one another as if considering the offer, and Hickstead smiled. Boniface looked at them and spoke.
“We would have to consult with the two alleged victims, to ask them if they could accept these terms because, although it isn’t necessary, we don’t want any action taken against the police.”
“Unusual but entirely understandable,” Parsons replied reasonably.
“As a matter of fact, they are in the building at this very moment. Perhaps we could bring them in?”
“Absolutely not!” Parsons spluttered. “That is a disgraceful suggestion. You are suggesting exposing my client to his accusers, who will naturally assume his guilt!”
“Oh, quiet down, Alan,” Lord Hickstead said. “I think I’m man enough to face my accusers. I’ve been facing up to my opponents since I was twelve. I say let them in, and we can see what they have to say.” His smile was wider now.
Alan Parsons strongly advised his client against it, but he was silenced by His Lordship.
***
I had never before seen Lord Hickstead in person, and when I did it was not a pleasant experience. Despite his despicable actions, and the pain he had inflicted on everyone, he sat smirking beside his lawyer. Don Fisher was standing next to me, the very model of restraint. I knew that Don would happily have squeezed the life out of the peer, given the chance.
As rehearsed, the two policemen explained to us what a deal meant and how it would be final. They concluded by saying that they would proceed on all charges unless we said otherwise.
I was the first to speak, and although I was addressing the policemen I was looking straight into Hickstead’s eyes. The man was brimming with confidence.
“Inspector, I have listened carefully to what you have suggested, and it is my view that we should....” I hesitated. “We should proceed on all charges, and seek the maximum penalty the court could impose.”
Alan Parsons leaned over to Hickstead, whose face was now blank, and whispered none too quietly.
Don Fisher stepped forward. Looking at Hickstead, he said, “Inspector, I agree with Mr Hammond. Criminals should have to face the full consequences of their actions, especially when they are scum eating bottom feeders.”
“Inspector, really!” Parsons protested. “Get these men out of the room at once.” We started to leave, and HIckstead stood up from his chair, veins bulging on his neck and forehead.
“You realise what this means,” he yelled angrily in our direction. We continued walking and closed the door behind us.
***
“What does it mean, Lord Hickstead?” Boniface asked. Parsons looked bemused, as if everyone in the room was in on a joke except him.
“Figure of speech, that’s all,” Hickstead replied in a surly tone.
“One of the reasons we had such a busy weekend is that Lavender Fisher and Delia Conrad, Mr Hammond’s girlfriend, were kidnapped on Saturday.” Boniface looked at Hickstead, who maintained his poker face.
“You can’t seriously be suggesting that my client is in any way involved in that kidnapping? It’s simply absurd!” He said the words, but Boniface could see fear in the lawyer’s eyes.
“We don’t make any accusations, Alan, but if you watch this perhaps you could tell me what we are meant to think.” He clicked the remote control and they all turned to watch the monitor.
A masked man appeared on the screen, threatening that the hostages would die unless an agreement was reached with Lord Hickstead by this evening. The camera then showed Lavender and Dee chained to the table. Boniface switched it off.
“My God!” Alan Parsons blurted out, but Hickstead remained resolute.
“I need some time with my client,” the lawyer said. “I want all cameras and sound off. Understood?”
“Of course,” Coombes agreed reasonably.
***
“Arthur, what have you got yourself involved in?” Parsons demanded, clearly flustered.
“One of my less straitlaced friends may have become a little, shall we say, overenthusiastic in an effort to protect me. But you heard the threat the same as I did; unless there is an agreement, the women die. I suggest we concentrate on reaching an agreement so that these young women can be returned safely to their families.” Lord Hickstead did not look at his lawyer once during the exchange.
“Arthur, I don’t see how we can expect an agreement when the people involved are insistent that you be prosecuted to the fullness of the law.”
This time Hickstead looked into the eyes of his lawyer as he spoke. There was menace in his voice, and his face was unreadable.
“Alan, that is a negotiating position. We hold fast and call their bluff. They will come around. We’ve only just started, and you want to throw the towel in already.”
“That video clip is extraordinarily prejudicial,” Parsons pointed out. “That could send you to prison for life if it was played to a jury.”
“It never will be, Alan, trust me. It will be part of the bargaining that will result in an agreement, and which will free the two women.”
“And if we don’t get an agreement, Arthur, what then?”
“Then I expect the women will die. That is what the video said. After all, I have no control over those men.”
Parsons stared at him wide eyed. “That is a blatant lie! How would they find out we’d got a deal, unless you tell them? You must be able to contact them.” The lawyer sat back, waiting for the peer to concede the point.
“At last, Alan, you’re earning your fee. You asked a question I hadn’t considered. I think I must say that I have been told to send an email to an anonymous email address. That sounds plausible. At least plausible enough to get across to those two morons that their loved ones might die just so they can have the satisfaction of seeing me being sent to an open prison for a couple of years. We’ve wasted enough time. Get them back in.”
Alan Parsons sighed. He was beginning to wonder whether absolutely everyone deserved the best defence they could get.
***
The video in our room clicked back on. The client conference had obviously concluded. The two policemen followed the protocols again, naming the room occupants and stating the time.
Alan Parsons then spoke up. “Lord Hickstead denies any involvement in the kidnapping. He was unaware of the abduction until he saw that clip of video. He does acknowledge, however, that there is a possibility that a misguided friend may have acted in what they thought was his best interests. Now, having expressed his outrage at what has been done in his name, he is even more eager to reach a deal so that the women can be returned safely.”
“Thank you, Mr Parsons,” Boniface replied. “If that turned out to be true, then it would be very public spirited of his Lordship to accept punishment just to save the life of two women he does not know. Albeit he has been in possession of some extremely explicit and unpleasant pictures of one of them.” He paused before turning his gaze to Hickstead. “But, of course, everyone sitting around this table knows that this is all crap. Your client is up to his neck in blackmail, kidnapping and armed robbery. He may even be responsible for one or more deaths. How am I going to persuade the CPS to go for any sort of deal in those circumstances?”
Hickstead smiled nastily. “Because we have a common goal. I want a deal, and you want the hostages back. This is a win-win scenario. If the deal doesn’t happen, it becomes a lose-lose scenario, where two women die unnecessarily and I take my chances with a jury.”
Coombes stepped in, for the first time playing the good cop. “Lord Hickstead, you may have crossed some lines but I cannot believe that you would let two women die just because you had to face a trial for a blackmail plot that you yourself hatched.”
“Just watch me!” Hickstead snapped.
“Arthur, be quiet! Let me do the talking,” Parsons advised him quickly. “This isn’t helping your cause one iota.” Hickstead fell silent, and the lawyer sighed.
“Might we have some drinks brought in? It might cool things down a little.”
“Of course. I’ll see to it.” Boniface excused himself, and the tape was stopped. A minute later he was in our room, with an audacious plan that he had cooked up with DCI Coombes during the break. He told us what he had in mind.
“Is that legal? Are you allowed to do that? It seems rather underhand,” I said.
“It’s borderline, but hey, when DCI Coombes joined the force they were still slapping suspects with wet towels.” Boniface smiled. “Timing is everything, remember.” The plan was already underway.
***
Coombes was chatting amiably to Alan Parsons, recalling previous cases where they had faced one another. Boniface entered, and set down a tray of soft drinks and chilled water, both still and sparkling. There were also the ubiquitous biscuits that were so common in meetings. The chocolate ones and the cream filled ones would be consumed, but the Rich Tea would be passed over for the next meeting to ignore, as usual.
I looked at my watch. Any second now, I thought, and a moment later there was a tap on the interview room door.
“Enter,” Boniface shouted, without looking up.
A young girl entered the room. She was smartly attired in a modest burgundy dress, trimmed with lace. She was wearing black tights and was wearing smart black shoes with a low heel. Her hair was tied back to show that her face was lightly made up.
I watched as Hickstead dropped his glass, spilling water over himself and his lawyer.
“Oops,” said the girl. “I’ll see if I can get a cloth for that. Dad said you might need these papers, Inspector.”
Boniface took the papers from her with a smile. “Thank you, Lavender. Don’t worry about the cloth, though. I have a fresh handkerchief here. Close the door on the way out, please.”
***
Alan Parsons railed at the two detectives for a full five minutes as Hickstead sat looking
blankly at the table. He looked rather like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
“Right, Alan. Your complaints have been registered on the tape. Now, would you like to hear what kept us busy the rest of the weekend?”
“Go on,” the lawyer said wearily, knowing that nothing good was to come from this summation.
Boniface explained the Europol operation and the part that the Holloway family had played in the events. He explained that Van Aart had been persuaded to become a prosecution witness to reduce his own jail time, and that Van Aart had met with his Lordship in Amsterdam.
He explained how an innocent woman lay in a hospital bed with two bullet wounds, and five men lay dead in a morgue because Hickstead wouldn’t face up to his crimes and tried to cover them up by conspiring to commit even more serious crimes.
Hickstead and his lawyer were then shown a statement from a man called Johnny, who said that the Holloways had been assisting Van Aart’s men to recover a holdall and a painting from Lord Hickstead’s safety deposit box at Citysafe. Johnny confessed to kidnapping Lavender in order to give Lord Hickstead leverage over Don Fisher, and he related the story of Dee Conrad’s trials at the hands of the Dutch criminals.
By the time Boniface concluded with the facts that Lord Hickstead’s fingerprints were found on the holdall and the painting, Parsons had already given up hope of keeping his client out of prison for the rest of his days.
***
“You are joking, surely, Commissioner!” DCI Coombes was back at his livid best. “This man has been charged with blackmail, conspiracy to commit armed robbery and conspiracy to kidnap two women. A banker, a philanthropist, an accountant and five other men lie dead because of his direct and indirect actions.”
“Coombes, please remember where you are,” the Commissioner said by way of warning.
“Well, obviously I’ve strayed into some banana republic where politicians can do what the hell they like and just walk away!” Coombes spluttered. Boniface grabbed his arm and looked into the DCI’s face.
“Terry, will you please calm down? This won’t get us anywhere. Let’s see what we can do to make the best of the decision.”
“Listen to the Inspector, Coombes, and I will try to forget your intemperate outburst,” the Commissioner said. “I don’t like this any more than you do. Whilst Hickstead’s friends are deserting him with the rapidity of rats leaving a sinking ship, they do not want another scandal. We already have four MPs on trial for expenses fraud. When the public find out that a peer has been involved in serious crimes like these, there will likely be an outcry the likes of which we have never seen before.
48 Hours - A City of London Thriller Page 27