48 Hours - A City of London Thriller (40 page)

“
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.

The establishment wants time to prepare. This week there will
be an emergency debate in the House of Lords, and if necessary
special legislation will be rushed through both houses to expel
Hickstead. By the end of the month you will have all of the
evidence together, and we will be in a better position to arraign
him. We will oppose bail, of course, and he will sit on remand for
months while we prepare for trial.

Gentlemen. For the next few days he will be under virtual
house arrest with MI5 ‘protecting him from a terrorist threat’. I
can assure you that he will never see the light of day again after
that, except through prison bars.”

“
Thank you, Commissioner. Can we assume that our colleagues
elsewhere in the Yard and in Europol will freeze all of Lord
Hickstead’s assets in the meantime?” Boniface asked.

“
Yes, with two exceptions. First, we cannot touch his pension
funds without agreement from the Union that holds those funds. But
in any event he cannot access his pension for another year, by
which time he will not need it. Second, we are obliged to allow him
to operate a simple credit account so that he can honour his
commitments to his creditors. The bank and credit card companies
cannot lend him money, or accept any new money. He can only expend
funds that he has in his account as of today.”

“
Thank you, Commissioner,” Boniface said. “We will ensure that
he is securely delivered to Parliament Street.”

Chapter 8
4

Highbury Clinic, Blackstock Rd, North London. Monday,
6pm.

I realised, as I travelled to the hospital, that I had been
quite selfish in my pursuit of Dee Conrad. It was true that I loved
her, and it was true that I had sensed that love was reciprocated,
but for the last twelve days her life had been on hold whilst she
stayed with me. We had talked about her flat mates and her social
life, but I actually knew very little about her, and had never seen
her flat. I had glibly assumed that if we loved one another we
could just cohabit at my flat and perhaps get married. I was not
considering her wants or needs; not because I thought mine were
more important, but because they had just not entered my mind in
the busyness of our lives for the last twelve days.

I was somewhat pleased, therefore, when I heard laughter and
girlish giggling coming from Dee’s room. I walked into a girly
fest; there were balloons, cards and all things pink, adorning the
room. Two women, almost the polar opposite of Dee, stood either
side of the bed. These women were dressed fashionably but in
clothes that would have suited them more if they had been perhaps
ten years younger. Their make-up was exquisite, though. I wondered
whether their flat would maybe have three bathrooms, because if it
didn’t then surely they must work in shifts in front of the
mirror.

One was blonde and the other brunette, but both had long hair,
expertly cut by a stylist who was worth every penny of whatever fee
they charged. Either one of them could have fronted an advertising
for L’Oreal; they both seemed ‘worth it’ to me.

I was introduced to Dana and Gemma by a much improved Dee, who
was looking the picture of health, despite her bandages and
bruises.

“
Ooh, he’s older than I thought he would be,” Gemma said,
curling her lip.

“
Yes, I imagined he would be more handsome, too,” Dana agreed,
contributing to what was obviously a well-practised double
act.

“
I wonder if his talents lie elsewhere, perhaps?” Dana
continued, whilst looking me up and down but holding her gaze over
my groin area.

In spite of myself, I blushed. I knew that was what they were
expecting but I just couldn’t help it. Dee was laughing
too.

We all had a sensible conversation for ten minutes or so, and
then Dana and Gemma had to leave so that they could attend their
‘Jazzercise’ class at the gym. After spending another ten minutes
hugging and kissing their way through their goodbyes, I was left
alone with Dee. I wasn’t sure where to start, so in the end I took
a deep breath and simply came out with it.

“
Dee, I’ve been doing some serious thinking. I realise you
probably feel that I may have taken you for granted. I know how I
feel about you, but I haven’t really stopped to consider your
needs, or your life, or what you might want.”

She smiled at me.

“
There will be plenty of time for all of that, Josh, but for
now the girls are looking for a new flatmate. Of course, it’s also
quite likely they will convert my bedroom into a giant dressing
room with all of their clothes on racks and their shoes stored in
transparent stacking boxes.”

“
Where are you going?” I asked nervously, knowing that there
was only one answer I could live with. She looked me in the
eyes.

“
I rather thought that I might move in with you. You’ll need
help to pay the mortgage now that you have so recklessly frittered
away a quarter of a million pounds.”

***

We decided not to make any immediate plans, and to wait until
Dee was out of hospital and back with me.

The next hour was spent explaining the events of the day and
Lord Hickstead’s spectacular fall from grace. Dee seemed to
understand the peer’s motivations, and whilst she couldn’t condone
anything he had done, she expressed her opinion that the case would
never reach a jury.

“
What are you suggesting?” I asked.

“
Josh, I love your innocence, but just think this through and
then judge the likelihood of a trial being held. It seems to me
that there are a number of options here, the least likely being
incarceration and trial. First option, release his Lordship on his
own recognisance, let him consider his future and give him the
opportunity to take the easy way out.”

“
Suicide, you mean?” I asked, surprised.

Dee nodded before continuing. “It’s a real possibility, Josh.
He will be expelled from the Lords, he will lose the proceeds of
his crime, he will be in prison for the rest of his life, and it
certainly won’t be a cosy open prison, given the nature of his
crimes. The second option is that he doesn’t have the nerve to end
his own life and so he is, shall we say, helped along a
little.”

I was aghast at the suggestion.

“
That would be the equivalent of a state execution!” I stated.
“Surely you’re not suggesting that sort of thing actually goes on
these days?”

“
Think back, Josh, and not too many years ago you will recall
individuals who had, or would have, embarrassed the establishment.
Scientists, spies and specialists in Weapons of Mass Destruction
have died rather conveniently, or have apparently taken their own
lives. Some of these people are placed under such enormous pressure
that suicide seems to be the only way out, and if they still don’t
act then there a thousand ways they can be assisted. Hickstead
proved that, with Sir Max and Andrew. Josh, if Lord Hickstead goes
to trial it will be broadcast around the world. The Press would
have a field day. The ex-Prime Minister will be made to look
incompetent for nominating him as a Peer. The new PM will be
embarrassed that he allowed the nomination. They will both blame
the security services who carry out the checks before anyone gets a
peerage, and the House of Lords itself will be damaged. The
hereditary and the life Peers will all be pilloried and discredited
in the same way that the expenses scandal tarred all MPs, guilty or
not. There will be outrage from the public when they hear of the
deaths and the distress he caused; I wouldn’t be surprised if there
were calls for the House of Lords to be disbanded. That part of the
establishment is deeply unpopular, and Hickstead has handed its
opponents a potentially lethal weapon.

The unions will disown him, his party already have, and he
will have made dangerous enemies that he could not have foreseen
when he started all of this. Our Secret Intelligence Services will
be deeply humiliated and angry that they’re being blamed for a
political blunder, and will already be preparing their
defence.

What I’m saying is this, Josh. If he goes to trial there will
be parliamentary commissions, committee hearings and so on, and
none of them will show the system in a good light.”

I still couldn’t believe that a country like ours would stoop
to those depths to save face. It seemed to me that such mistrust
was at the heart of all conspiracy theories.

Dee could see the doubt in my face. She squeezed my hand and
asked a question that sent a chill through my body. “Josh, earlier
today, against all the odds and against all common sense, the
Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police was instructed to release
Hickstead on police bail. Into whose hands was he
released?”

She had a point. Number two Parliament Street was guarded by
MI5.

Chapter 8
5

No.2 Parliament St. Westminster, London. Monday,
6pm.

Lord Hickstead had concluded that the life he had carefully
built for himself had gone forever. With his credit cards cancelled
and his bank account frozen he had to rethink his
strategy.

He had around four thousand pounds in his current account that
he was free to use. His other accounts had almost seventy thousand
pounds deposited in them, but he would never see that money again.
They would claim it as the proceeds of crime, even though it wasn’t
true. He did have a very good pension with the union, but it would
not pay out until next year. He did, however, have two aces up his
sleeve.

Lord Hickstead made a call to his Swiss Bank and checked the
balance for the numbered account in the name of Euro Union
Financial Enterprises. The balance had been reduced as a result of
paying Van Aart a hundred thousand Euros in compensation when the
diamonds went missing. Still, the figure quoted to him was the euro
equivalent of almost half a million pounds.

Several years of milking the EU coffers had served him well.
When he had worked for the Trades Union they had wanted to see
receipts for all his expenses. They didn’t particularly care how
much was spent, but they wanted receipts. He could hardly believe
his luck when he took up his new post and found he was allowed the
cost of flying home on a Friday, first class, and back again after
the weekend, whether he travelled or not. He could also travel
widely in his role as European Commissioner for Labour Relations
and rack up all kinds of alleged expenses along the way. But not
until the last year or so of his posting did anyone ask for
receipts. There was simply a presumption that he had travelled home
each weekend at a cost of over five hundred pounds a week, and that
he had indeed expended what he had claimed. He wasn’t alone in
recognising that loophole.

The only other source of cash he could access was waiting for
him across London, and to collect that he would need to find a way
to bypass his MI5 minder at the front desk. Lord Hickstead’s
problem was that, whilst there were many exits leading to external
fire escapes, they were all alarmed. He couldn’t use any of those
exits as he hadn’t the first idea how to disable an alarm. That
left him only the front door.

***

Quite why this building was so secure Hickstead didn’t know,
but then he had never researched its history. Since 1895, number 2
Parliament Street had been used solely as civil service office
accommodation until apartments had been created from the offices on
the top two floors during the 1970s. At that time the doorman would
traditionally have been an ex-serviceman. However, following the
assassination of Airey Neave on 30th March 1979, within the
confines of the Houses of Parliament, there had been a sea change
in security arrangements. The recently converted apartments were
seen as potential targets for the IRA, as they housed senior
government officials. To offer better protection, Special Branch’s
SO12, ‘S’ squad, took an office suite at the back of the building
and equipped it with firearms, and staffed the lobby with armed
officers.

After the 11th September 2001 attacks on New York, SO12 had
their hands full with other commitments and so they had been more
than happy to let MI5 use the offices and also handle the doorman
duties. It was also a coup for MI5. Because all of the bills for
this satellite office were covered by the building owners, Crown
Estates, very few people at MI5’s HQ at Thames House knew it
existed. This made ‘the cubby hole’, as it was known to operatives,
an ideal place to carry out operations without the continuous
oversight of the bean counters at HQ.

***