Heaven's Door (19 page)

Jeremy continued. “Tell the court what happened once you had got the cocaine. When you took it.”

“Well, I thought I was going to die. I mean, I've had dodgy shit before, but this was different. Head was sort of exploding; puking everywhere; couldn't stand up; pain in the gut like … like …like I'd been poisoned. If my mates hadn't found me …”

“Quite. So what did you decide to do about it?”

“At first I was planning to fix him – well, at least confront him, you know. So I found out where he lived and went and waited for him.”

“What were you planning to do, exactly?”

“Not sure, but I was real mad when I saw where he lived. Big posh house in its own grounds, wall round it …”

“Let the court know that the witness has since identified the house as the home of Mr Tomlinson-Brown in Etherington Place. Please continue, Mr Wade.”

“Well, I'd got some of the stuff with me and I thought I'd force him to take it – just so he'd know what sort of fucking crap he was peddling.”

“But you didn't do that, Mr Wade. What changed your mind?”

“There were security guys there – not sure how many but they kept driving past and one or two would get out of the cars and sort of prowl around. I decided to leave and get him the next time we met. So I threw the bag of stuff I had over the wall into the grounds and fucked off.”

“Let the court know,” said Jeremy, “that a package containing cocaine was found inside the grounds in the area where Mr Wade said he had thrown it.”

Miles Pendle leaned forward. “Before we proceed any further, please spare us the expletives, Mr Wade. We can get the drift without them, thank you.”

Billy looked across at Jeremy, frowning in confusion.

“The ‘f' word, Mr Wade,” Jeremy explained. “Please refrain. Tell us why you phoned the police.”

“Well, I still felt like shit a week later and I thought the bastard's not getting away with this. So I phoned. And then they phoned me back a few times, told me he was spreading this dodgy stuff all over the place and would I be prepared to come in for an interview – for evidence, like. In the end I said I would.”

“And when you went to the police, were you able to identify the defendant as your supplier?”

“Yes, that's right. I picked him out from some mug-shots they showed me.”

“Thank you, Mr Wade.”

Lorna rose slowly to her feet shaking her head as Jeremy sat down.

“Mr Wade, I congratulate you on remembering all that story, but you don't seriously think anyone is going to believe it, do you?”

The grin left Billy's face. “It's the truth! Why would I lie?”

“Well, let's see if we can find out, shall we? How long are you claiming that Jake – Mr Tomlinson-Brown – has been supplying you with drugs?”

“About a year – perhaps a bit more. Not absolutely sure but …”

“And how many times have you been ill using the drugs he's supplied?”

“Well, I think that was the first …”

“You
think!
You told the court you thought you were going to die. How many near-death experiences have you had? Come on, you must remember.”

“Yes, okay. No, it's never happened before.”

“So, you
allege
that this man has been supplying you with drugs for over a year with no problems at all; then you get one bad package from him and decide to sell him down the road. I don't believe you, Mr Wade. Dealers with spare capacity are a bit thin on the ground these days with the extra squeeze on them.”

“Yes, well you don't know how fucking rough it was …”

“Language,
please
, Mr Wade,” said Lorna, with a condescending smile. “So where have you been getting your supply from for the last couple of months?”

“You can't expect me to tell you that.”

“Why not, Mr Wade. Or is it because there is no-one, in fact, and that Jack – or Jake – has never been your supplier either?”

Jeremy Forsythe got to his feet.

“M'lord, I can't see any relevance in pressing the witness to name any other dealers. It was indeed a risk for the witness to come forward anyway, but …”

“Your honour,” put in Lorna, “I don't think Mr Wade has any qualms about naming dealers. After all, if he is to be believed, he fingered his long term supplier because of one bad batch. He seems to have little or no loyalty towards his chain of supply. So why should he not name the latest link – unless, of course, there isn't one and his whole story is a fabrication?”

“M'lord,” Jeremy spread his arms in a gesture of incredulity, “how can my learned friend possibly draw
that
conclusion from the witness's reluctance to …”

“Ms Prentiss,” said the judge, “there are limits to the conjecture we can exercise in a court of law, and I think you are close to those limits. I do not see how Mr Wade's not naming someone whose identity has no relevance to this case can be construed as obstructing the process of law.”

“With respect, m'lord, I did not say it did, but …”

“No, not in so many words, but I'd like you to move on if you have anything more to ask this witness.”

Lorna was silent for a while.

“Mr Wade, can you recall the times that you met with Mr Tomlinson-Brown just prior to when you received –
allegedly
– the bad package?”

“No, of course not,” said Billy.

“You said ‘same place, same time', didn't you? So you must know.”

“It wasn't always the same day, though. Could have been any day.”

“Well, just one day, then. You must remember at least
one
occasion when the actual day sticks in your mind.”

“No, sorry.”

“Very convenient, isn't it? If we can't establish
any
precise times for your dealings, we can't check out any possible alibis. No chance for the defendant to deny meeting you with any chance of proving it.” She turned to the jury. “When you hear the statements of the other three users read out, you may be surprised at how similar they are to each other and to Mr Wade's testimony. I encourage you to make the comparison and consider how four disparate individuals could come up with statements so alike.”

Lorna sat down.

*

Grace looked with a morbid fixation at the information on the PC screen in front of her. She had seen it all before, of course. It was nearly six weeks ago when she first received the details of the post mortems carried out on the remains of the two bodies retrieved from the wire. But now she was reviewing them in a different and closer context.

‘The corpses of the two men had been on the fence for nine days', said the preamble to the main findings. ‘They were mutilated by the constant attention of sea-birds feeding on them. However, the cold conditions helped in preserving enough to determine the injuries received prior to their climbing the superstructure. Also, these injuries seem to point to the reason why they undertook the climb'.

She scrolled down to a summary of the findings.

“Extensive bruising on both specimens where enough skin remained to enable an examination,” she read from the report. “Specimen one – stress fracture of left forearm and three fingers on left hand. Damage to right patella. Nose broken and damage to left eye socket. Severe abrasions …”

She minimised the document and, after a moment's hesitation, clicked on the icon titled ‘Conclusions'.

‘Both men died from a combination of hypothermia and trauma caused by injuries sustained either in an assault by other inmates or in a fight with each other. There is also evidence to suggest that they were attacked by sea birds whilst still alive, which may have accelerated their dying'.

Grace closed the document and then the file with a feeling of sickness rising in her stomach, and reflected, not for the first time, on the level of fear which would be needed to drive someone with such injuries to make that sort of climb.

*

“Dr Brotherton,” said Jeremy, pacing around the area between the jury and the witness stand, “please tell the court the position you currently hold and the work you have carried out for this case.”

Simon Brotherton was a tall, thin man in frameless glasses. He had wispy receding hair combed straight back and long enough to hang over the collar of his brown sports jacket which he wore over a check shirt.

“I am Senior Scientific Advisor to NCSRA – that's the National Controlled Substances Research Agency – based here in Guildford. I have undertaken extensive examination of samples of the drugs provided by the users who came forward and those found at both houses, and compared these with each other and with samples from batches confiscated in recent similar cases.”

“And what can you tell us about the results of this extensive testing?”

“As far as is possible, I can confirm that the drugs at both locations and those handed to the police were from the same or very similar batches and hence most probably from the same source or sources.”

“And what did you find regarding the quality of these drugs, specifically in relation to the sickness described by Mr Wade earlier and in the statements read out in court?”

“The cocaine was significantly contaminated, certainly enough to produce the effects described by the witnesses.”

“Thank you, Dr Brotherton. One last question; is it possible that the substance found at the homes of the defendants could have been from the same batch as that which led to the death of Vincent Remus …?”

Lorna was quickly on her feet and shouting. “The Prosecution has no right …!”

“
Mr Forsythe!
” Miles Pendle boomed and turned an admonishing glare on the offending counsel.

“I was merely trying to put into the jury's minds,” he responded, with exaggerated deference, “the possible severity…”

The judge cut him short.

“I know very well what you were trying to put into the jury's minds. Let me make it clear to all present. This court is not concerned in any way with the quality of the substances involved, or the consequences – real or suggested – of that quality,
except
in establishing a link between the witnesses and the drugs found at the two addresses. Otherwise, we are
only
concerned with deciding whether the defendants are responsible for selling these drugs, and I take a dim view of anything or anyone that causes us to be deflected from that objective, or who confuses the process of reaching a proper conclusion.”

He turned to the jury.

“You are to ignore the last question put by the Prosecution on the basis that it has no relevance to this case whatsoever and I trust,” turning back to the barrister, “I shall not have to intervene again to remind you of your duties in this matter.”

Jeremy Forsythe bowed his apology and spoke again to the witness.

“Thank you, Dr Brotherton. No further questions.”

He resumed his seat.

Lorna rose to her feet.

“Dr Brotherton,” she said, “in your opinion, would the symptoms described by the witnesses and confirmed by you normally require treatment – at a hospital, for instance, or by a GP?”

“Not necessarily …”

“But normally?”

“There would be no permanent damage – providing the user got over the initial effects – and that would depend on quite a number of factors.”

“Such as?”

“Well, primarily the amount they took, their general health at the time, their living conditions …”

“These people are addicts, Dr Brotherton, with a hard drugs dependency. You wouldn't expect their general health and living conditions to be conducive to fighting off the effect of a toxic dose of cocaine, would you?”

“I must protest, m'lord.” Jeremy was on his feet. “We have no specific evidence relating to the health and accommodation of these witnesses. If my learned friend is about to produce some, then, having failed to disclose it to the Crown beforehand, I suggest that it should be deemed inadmissible.”

“Like the Prosecution's last question to this witness,” Lorna snapped back. “Nothing further, m'lord.”

She sat down.

*

Week 9; Thursday, 21 May…

Jo took a deep breath and fixed her eyes on the Prosecution counsel.

“Detective Inspector Cottrell, could you describe for the benefit of the court, the events of the morning of Tuesday, 14
^th
April this year?”

“On that morning, I was in charge of a police raid on the property of the Home Secretary, Tom Brown, and his wife, Maggie Tomlinson-Brown. We entered the grounds of the property at exactly 5.00 am and …”

“When you say ‘we', Detective Inspector, who exactly was with you?”

“Along with myself, a total of twelve police officers, in five vehicles, including four dog-handlers with their dogs; plus one scene-of-crime unit with four personnel. We were prepared for an initial search of the house and grounds.”

“Thank you, please go on.”

“I knocked on the door and rang the bell, and requested entry into the house. Then …”

“Were you granted immediate access?”

“Yes,” said Jo, a little too quickly. Jeremy raised his eyebrows.

“Really? And who was in the house, and where, when you entered.”

“The Home Secretary, his wife and son were all in the hall.”

“And then what happened?”

“Jack went up to the first floor and we followed him to his bedroom. He briefly locked himself in his room, saying he was getting dressed. After a short delay, he opened the door and …”

“How short, would you say?”

“Well, I wasn't actually timing it, but …”

“Ten seconds? Twenty seconds? A couple of minutes?”

“About three or four minutes, I suppose.”

“Three or four minutes. Certainly ample time for him to get fully dressed. DI Cottrell, please tell the court what the defendant was wearing when you first entered the house.”