Heaven's Door (24 page)

“And similarly with Jason, whose home is as secure as most houses, I'm sure, but certainly
not
a fortress. He won't mind my saying that access to it would be easier, far easier, than the Tomlinson-Browns'.

“Why they have been targeted together, I do not pretend to know. They are close friends;
very
close friends. It is quite conceivable that a grudge against one would manifest itself in action against both, cruelly adding to the hurt and the anguish of each.

“As to how the planting of the evidence could have happened, you know about the party at the Tomlinson-Browns' house just over a week before the discovery of the drugs, and, less than two days prior to that, the break-in at Jason Midanda's home. The Crown has contemptuously dismissed these events as irrelevances, but it's rather a coincidence, you must think, that both properties were, in effect, entered within a couple of days of each other and that the drugs were found so shortly afterwards following a tip-off just
four days
after the party. You have also been told that the CCTV camera which covered the upstairs corridor in Jack's home was deliberately tampered with before or during the party. Another coincidence? I think not.

“The person or persons who perpetrated this callous conspiracy were clever enough to collate a surprising amount of evidence in an attempt to achieve their intended outcome. But one thing he – or she – or they – were
not
able to create is the rationale and background for such a crime. They cannot change retrospectively these young men's characters, their personalities, their clean and exemplary lives. They
cannot
– could
never
– place this crime into the context of their existence up to that date. It simply does not fit; it simply does not make
any sense at all
.

“The world of illegal drug dealing is a hard and brutal one, where life expectancy for the majority of those involved – statistics will confirm – is short, where the risk of violent death is high and where hardened criminals vie for supremacy in dark corners of our society. Take a long, close look at the defendants, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, and decide if they belong to that world. And then come to the only verdict that
does
make any sense at all…

“
Not guilty!”

Tom and Mags sensed a positive impact in the room, the knowing nods of a short time ago replaced by questioning shrugs to each other by the people around them, their body language reflecting at least a partial acceptance of the argument they had just heard.

“Thank you, Ms Prentiss,” said Miles Pendle.

He looked at his watch. “We will take a break now and resume at twelve o'clock precisely.”

“The Court will rise!”

*

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury.” Miles Pendle looked even larger and more imposing as his booming voice launched the penultimate act of the drama. “You have a particularly difficult task today. I know all of you have been in this situation before, but today, as I said at the start of these proceedings, there is an added dimension to this case – your knowledge of the background of one of the defendants. Knowing Tom Brown as we do, it is inevitable that we should feel considerable sympathy for him, and for the rest of his family.
However
– and this is the challenge you must meet today – I ask you to put that aside. Only at one stage in your deliberations must you take into consideration the background of either of the defendants, and I will refer to that later.

“You have heard the details of the case, presented by the Crown and the Defence, and the evidence from fifteen different witnesses. You have also heard from the two defendants. There is nothing material I can add to that wealth of information. However, I should like to share with you a few comments and observations following the summing up of the two counsels.

“The Defence, quite properly, has drawn your attention to the fact that, contrary to the picture of impregnability painted by the Prosecution, the household of the Tomlinson-Browns was made
deliberately
accessible for guests attending a party just ten days before the discovery of the drugs and at a time when both parents were away. She also pointed out that one of the security cameras – the very one which monitored the area where the bedroom in which the drugs were found is situated – had been tampered with sometime during the party. The Defence suggests that these facts are enough to raise doubts as to how the drugs came to be in the room. She also asks you to consider that the break-in at Jason Midanda's house so close to the time of the party was more than a coincidence, but in fact was part of a concerted operation to place the incriminating evidence in such a way as to implicate both defendants. The Defence is right in asking you to consider this.”

He paused, looking intensely along the line of jurors.

“However, you must place these facts into the context of the overall timescale of the police operation which led to these charges. The seven separate phone calls to the police which activated the investigation in the first place were made within a period of ten days, the last one of these being a full eight weeks prior to the arrests; that is six weeks before both the break-in and the party. During that intervening period – between the last of the calls and the break-in – the two defendants had already been identified by four of the initial callers, all of whom had also provided mobile phone contact numbers which later checked out with the phones found at the two houses. Also during that time CCTV footage and direct police surveillance had revealed approaches made to Mr Tomlinson-Brown by eight known drug users. And finally, as to the party itself, we have heard from Mr Midanda, under cross-examination, that the decision to hold it was made only a few days before the event itself; six days before, to be precise.

“You must ask yourselves the following questions.

“
One
,
how probable is it that such an extensive deception, involving so many people and diverse elements, would be carried out, which was reliant to succeed on an opportunity to place these substances in the houses of the two defendants, bearing in mind that if the party had never taken place all that effort could have been a waste of time?

“
Two
, when the opportunity did arise, how likely is it that the planting of the evidence could have been planned and executed at such short notice – five days in the case of the Midanda home, and six in the case of the Tomlinson-Brown's, especially with the latter being subject to such stringent security?

“And
three,
why would anyone have gone to so much trouble if, as the Defence claims, the lifestyle of these two young gentlemen appears, on the surface at least, to be so ordinary and innocuous?

“It is for you to answer these, and other questions, to your collective satisfaction, remembering that if you are in any doubt as to the answers, then you must
not
find the defendants guilty. On the other hand, of course, you may find these questions very easy to answer when you consider them carefully.

“I am sure that you are aware,” he continued, “that under new provisions, introduced within the last two months, the selling of certain drugs carries with it a mandatory sentence of the severest kind. Those found guilty of this crime, may be condemned to the status of Life Exiles. That is the law – the
new
law.”

He glanced around the courtroom again, this time his eyes remaining on Tom for the most fleeting of moments.

“However, let me stress that this is no concern of yours. I cannot put it more bluntly than that. The resultant sentence, dependant on your verdict, is not your responsibility; it is mine.
Your
job is to decide on the verdict – or verdicts – based on the evidence you have heard. That decision will enable me then to do
my
job. Under the terms of the new regime, you must state, for
each
of the defendants, one of the following verdicts;

“Not guilty, if you feel that the evidence presented clearly indicates that the defendant is innocent of the crime with which he is charged.

“Not proven, if you feel that the evidence presented is insufficient to demonstrate beyond all reasonable doubt that the defendant was responsible for the crime. Until recently this option has only applied in Scotland, but has been adopted across the UK as part of the new justice reforms. This verdict would apply even if you accepted that there was a strong possibility that he
could
have committed the offence.

“Guilty with mitigation, if you agree that the evidence clearly proves that he is guilty of the charges brought against him, but – and this is where it
is
appropriate for you to consider the defendant's personal and family circumstances – there are understandable reasons which may touch the sympathy of this court, as to why this crime was committed.

“And finally, guilty without mitigation, where you conclude that, not only is the defendant guilty of the crime, but there are no such mitigating circumstances which might excuse his actions.

“Please be clear that you are not required to bring the same verdict for both defendants. You may feel it necessary to differentiate between the two, in spite of their close personal relationship, their common associates and their seemingly parallel lives. It is for you to decide. I do not require a unanimous decision, but I will only accept a verdict agreed by a minimum of ten members of the jury.

“I will now ask you to leave the courtroom to consider your verdict or verdicts. Under the recent Jurors' Charter, let me remind you that you are entitled to reconvene this court in order to ask for clarification of any information received during the presentation of the case or to request any additional data you may feel essential in reaching your decision. Please inform the Clerk of the Court if you wish this to happen. Otherwise, we await your decision forthwith.

“The time is now,” the judge glanced at his watch, “12.25. The court will adjourn until at least 1.30 pm, at which time you may all return to your places in readiness for the verdicts which will follow as soon as the jury have completed their deliberations. Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, please rise and leave the courtroom. Thank you.”

The jury rose and filed out through a side door into their anteroom.

“The court is adjourned.”

“All rise!”

*

Tom watched as Mags left the room, supported by Megan, and followed by her mother and father – Jack's grandparents – who had been present in court since the previous day. Katey followed them, her arms tightly clasped around Leila Midanda who was crying loudly, her whole body shaking with the agony of unbearable anticipation.

Tom did not move for the whole of the interminably long hour of the recess. His mind seemed incapable of holding on to any rational thought for more than a few seconds as they oscillated, out-of-control, between the extremes of a complete surrender to despair and constructive planning for his change of policy. The overall effect was a waking nightmare of confusion, the sort he experienced in restless sleep during an illness, where problems and challenges whirl with ethereal complexity; ill-defined and unresolved.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He had completely forgotten the presence of his own parents, who had been seated behind him with his in-laws. He reached up and put his own hand on top of his father's.

No words were spoken.

There was nothing to say.

*

At 1.35 pm the jury filed solemnly in, their heads lowered to avoid making eye contact with anyone in the courtroom. They remained standing until all had reached their places and then sat down together.

“Have you concluded your deliberations?” asked the judge.

The foreman of the jury got to his feet again and replied. “Yes, m'lord.”

“And have you reached a verdict for each of the defendants?”

“Yes, we have, m'lord.”

“Are the verdicts unanimous?”

“Yes, m'lord.”

“How do you find the defendant, Hugh Jacob Tomlinson-Brown?”

“Guilty, without mitigation.”

Mags slumped sideways across Tom's knees. He held on to her tightly, as much to steady himself as to give her comfort. There was a rustle of activity in the press gallery and Tom looked across. People were frantically tapping their electronic notepads and scribbling with pencils, with one exception; Tony Dobson's eyes were riveted on him, wide, staring and filled with sadness, like tiny mirrors reflecting Tom's own desolation straight back at him.

The judge continued.

“How do you find the defendant Jason Midanda?”

“Guilty, with mitigation.”

Leila Midanda's piercing wail was cut short by Jason's shout as he sprang to his feet.

Two days later

Week 10; Thursday, 28 May…

The sun shone through the restaurant window onto the two former colleagues sitting across the table from each other. The room was quite busy for a Thursday lunchtime, with all the diners nodding or speaking to David as they took their seats at their respective tables.

“You're quite a celebrity here, aren't you?” teased his companion.

“Yes, rugged good looks seem to be very popular in the village.”

Jo laughed. “Do you remember saying to me after Ben Neville's suicide that you wondered what would happen to the farm? I bet you never thought in a million years you'd end up living there – even though it's a bit different now to what it was then. And certainly not having the same room where he shot himself. Doesn't that bother you?”

“Well, I guess I did think about it a bit at first. But I always fancied living on a farm and now at least I've got half a farmhouse. And I've certainly never regretted moving into the village.”

She turned and looked out of the window onto Main Street.

“I've always felt guilty about not being here that night,” she said. “You know, the night of the ‘Meadow Village Massacre', as they called it.”

“Yes,” said David, “I was never sure whether four deaths legitimately constituted a massacre, but it wasn't the time to argue the point. And anyway, if you add the Enderbys, Emily Burton and Ben to the list of the deceased, I guess it's getting close. But there's nothing for you to feel guilty about; there wasn't anything you could have done. It's not something we could have anticipated and prevented.”

“I know, but …”

They sat in silence.

“Anyway, Detective Inspector, what's your point about Jason?”

“Well, what he actually said was,” she consulted the note she had in front of her, reading from it slowly, “‘No, that's not right, we are in this together, equal partners, a team. That's how it's always been.'”

She continued looking at the note for a few seconds then looked up at David.

“Well, what do you think?”

He shrugged.

“I assume, from the fact that you've asked the question, that this won't be the answer you want,” he said, “but it sounds like a confession to me. Well, perhaps not a confession, but a statement made knowing that the truth was out, so to speak. And it seems the judge interpreted it the same way.”

“You see, I don't see it like that at all,” said Jo. “I think it was just an instinctive expression of solidarity with his best friend. The verdicts clearly implied that the jury thought Jack was the leader and Jason the follower. That Jack was to blame for Jason's predicament. That Jack was the baddy and Jason the victim of his … influence, for want of a better word. Jason just wasn't having it – they were
real
friends; they looked out for each other – and that's what Jason was doing then – looking out for Jack.”

“Or it was pride, not wanting people to think he was the junior partner, just a gopher.”

“But people don't sacrifice their lives for a bit of pride, David. The point is, can you remember any criminal, on the point of going down, sparing a thought for anybody but himself – or herself? It would have made sense if he had got the
same
verdict as Jack and had leapt to his feet and said, ‘it wasn't me, it was that bastard! He was going to stop me seeing Katey if I didn't help him!' or something. You know what I mean, don't you?”

“Yes, I do,” he replied, thoughtfully. “But I'm not sure what all this has to do with anything.”

A tall, gangly young man in black trousers and polo shirt walked over to them holding a pen and note-pad.

“Ready to order yet?”

David turned to him, eagerly picking up the menu.

“Not yet,” said Jo, without taking her eyes off David. “We'll call you over when we're ready.”

“Okay, any more drinks?”

“No thanks,” snapped Jo.

“Same again, please, Tommy,” said David, smiling at him.

“Right, David.”

“Hey, Jo, this is my local,” he chastised, gently, as the waiter left. “Don't upset the staff. They'll be putting something into my scampi and chips. Not that we'll ever get round to eating.”

“Sorry, David,” Jo relaxed a little. “Just let me share a couple more thoughts with you.”

“Go on,” he said.

“Well, the users who gave evidence. They were the ones who came forward – four out of the seven who initially phoned in. Now, neither of the ones the police saw talking to Jack on Delaware, nor any of the six caught on camera approaching him were actually picked up and questioned, because the police couldn't find any of them. Right?”

“My brain must have shut down, Jo; because I'm afraid I don't know what you're getting …”

“Well, if there was a set-up.”

David smiled and shook his head.

“Bear with me – I know it's a massive ‘if' – but
if
there was one, then you could have two groups of people. One lot – the main actors – to turn up and give the evidence and another lot – the extras – just to walk up to Jack in a place where there's a good chance they'd be on camera or were being watched. Then the second lot fade into the background, out of sight, can't be found. The police …”

“That's you,” said David.

“Not really me,” countered Jo. “I only got the shitty bit remember? Not the investigation. Anyway, the police don't mind so much – they're supposed to be fast tracking and they've got four in the bag anyway. That's more than enough to get the message across.”

“And I would agree with them.”

“Yes, but why, when the police knew all of these people, could they not find a single one. They had addresses, knew where they hung out and who with. But no sign of them anywhere.”

“Well, you've explained that, Jo. They didn't
need
them.”

“Even so, it's not as if they didn't
try
to find them; they just didn't try very hard. I just think you'd expect
one
of them to be at home – or where you thought they'd be – when you called,
unless
they'd been told to make themselves scarce. And
before
NJR, I don't think we'd have been satisfied if we hadn't picked at least a couple of them up.”

“But it's
not
before NJR, Jo,” said David, leaning forward, “and think about the scale of this conspiracy of yours. Someone would have to take an enormous bloody risk in casting all these characters – from the most unreliable and unpredictable pool of acting talent in the country. Seven phone-ins
then
eight spotted by CCTV and the police. Even if the three no-show phone-ins were part of the eight, that's a minimum of” – he paused to work it out –“twelve people involved in the scam. That's hard to believe. Then there's the big mystery of how the drugs were planted – at Jack's, I mean; it's not difficult to work out how it could have happened at Jason's. The party was the only opportunity, but how could that have been anticipated – given that it would have to be an integral part of the plan? Pretty much the core of the plan, in fact.”

“I know, I know. But I keep seeing Jack at the house at the time of the raid. Even allowing for the fact that it was 5.00 am, and he was probably half asleep, and that you'd expect someone who was devious enough to pedal crack these days to be able to deceive people by acting the innocent, et cetera, et cetera … Even allowing for all that, I find it hard to believe he knew the stuff was there. And the magazines. I don't think for a microsecond he thought that's what we were looking for. It was just that he knew we'd find them if he didn't get them out of the way, and that might embarrass or upset his parents. If he knew the drugs were there, you'd expect him to pile stuff
into
the wardrobe, not draw our attention to the hiding place by clearing it away. God forgive us, David, but what if we've made a terrible mistake.”

“What about an appeal? Is that going to happen do you think?”

“Well, they can't appeal the sentence, because that's mandatory, and they can only appeal the verdict if new evidence is presented.”

They were silent for a few moments.

“Look,” David said, “why don't you eat something? I'm sure you'll feel a lot better afterwards. I know I will.”

Jo snorted a laugh, and looked up with a smile of resignation.

“The weird thing is, you know, I do actually
want
to believe they're guilty. The alternative is too painful to consider. I keep reassuring myself of the two biggest arguments against there being a set-up. One – why would anyone go to all that trouble to frame two people who don't seem to have a single enemy in the world between them? And, two – the fact that someone would have had to come up with better than a hundred grand to kick-start it.”

“Well I agree with your first point,” said David, half-reading the menu, “though I guess the police must have considered that the target might not have been Jack so much as his dad. Someone teaching Tom Brown a lesson by getting at his son. Although it wasn't intended to put him in exile, of course, because it all started long before the new sentencing law was in place. But if that was the case then you could get your mind a bit more easily round the complexity of the set-up. You know, if big league villains were involved. They'd be able to put a lot of pressure on the players without having to get close enough to the action to put themselves at risk. Or what about political opponents, trying to discredit the family, or soften the NJR.”

Jo started reading the menu but put it down again.

“They did give both of those some thought, but the fact that Jason was involved as well sort of scuppered that theory. Including him in any sort of set-up would have added an extra level of complexity that just wasn't necessary. And point two?”

“Point two. Well, the police never recovered the bulk of the stuff that killed that young guy – somebody Johnson, wasn't it? So it was still out there. But once it was known to be lethal, then the whole batch would have become next to worthless. Anyone in the know, finding out where it was and who'd got it, might have been able to take it off their hands for next to nothing.”

“Jesus!” Jo gasped, turning a few heads at nearby tables. “Why the hell didn't the Defence pick up on that?”

“They probably did,” said David. “But there was so much other incriminating stuff around. And I did say ‘
might'
have picked it up for next to nothing, not
‘would
'. And what is ‘next to nothing'? Five grand? Ten? It's only small potatoes compared to the original value, but it's still a big spend for a long-shot chance of success and with no way of getting your money back. You know, I think I will have the scampi. What about you?”

“Vegetarian lasagne,” said Jo.

David breathed a sigh of relief and turned to attract Tommy's attention.

*

“Is it okay?” They'd hardly spoken for nearly twenty minutes.

Jo looked up. She had been pushing her food round the plate but had eaten very little.

“Yes, it's fine, thanks,” she answered apologetically. “Just not all that hungry.”

“I'll finish it for you, if you like,” said David, who had emptied his own plate some time ago.

Jo smiled. “Still as helpful as ever, I'm glad to see,” she said, pushing her plate over to him. “I'm not very good company, am I?”

“Someone once told me ‘don't expect too much on a first date, then you won't be disappointed'. So I'm fairly cool about this, providing there's a next time.”

“So this is a date, is it?”

“Well, you should know. It was
you
who asked
me
out.”

“Yes, I'd like to do this again,” said Jo. “I just wish I could get this off my mind.”

A few minutes later, David pushed his second empty plate aside and leaned forward.

“Listen, don't misinterpret this as support for your conspiracy theory, but how about this for an idea?”

*

“They'll be taken to an intermediate location,” said the woman, “the redeveloped Bull Sand Fort in the Humber Estuary.”

Tom and Mags were seated together on the sitting room sofa. Opposite them, across the low table on which Millie had placed a tray with four cups and saucers and coffee, tea and biscuits, sat their two visitors in the wing chairs which normally occupied a position by the window. Delia Tremlett, Senior Judicial Advisor was a large woman in her mid forties. She was confident and business-like and was doing most of the talking. Gemma Gray, her assistant, was small and slight, about ten years younger, with a thin, serious face set in a permanent frown.

“This is a designated stopover establishment,” Delia continued, “for those awaiting final posting. Places in exile are limited at present to the single off-shore facility.” She looked at Tom as if for confirmation. “So waiting time at present will inevitably be longer than for the final-state plan, when full accommodation will be available.”

“And when will they be moved to this fort place?” asked Mags.

“That will be on the 10th June, in thirteen days time.”

“What!” Mags leapt to her feet. “Don't be ridiculous! You can't give us less than two weeks with him.”

“I'm sorry, but that's …”

“That's what?” Tom was on his feet as well. “Don't tell me that's the norm, because this is virtually the first time.”

“For drug dealers, yes,” said Delia. “But we already have five groups of prisoner-exiles, including the two already on Alpha, and we have not been notified of any changes in procedure or timeframe for this new offence.”