The Dying Light (27 page)
Kate laughed. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘You do realise that this is a criminal matter,’ said Shap. ‘For a lawyer you display remarkably little respect for the law.’ He showed her the form. ‘Were you requested by the hotel management to comply with the law by filling in this form?’
‘Before you answer that question, Miss Lockhart,’ said Turvey, ‘I must ask these gentlemen the relevance of this to the inquiry into the murder of Hugh Russell.’
‘We suspect that Miss Lockhart was attempting to conceal information about herself because she knew that she would be involved in the matters we are investigating today - namely the murder of Hugh Russell.’
‘That’s absurd,’ she said quietly. ‘The hotel already had my passport and credit card details and mobile phone number. This form was superfluous and I treated it as such.’
‘You had shown your passport,’ growled Turvey without looking at her. ‘Then there can be no question of relevance in the matter of Mr Russell’s murder. She was not hiding anything, and as far as I can see she complied with the law. The hotel was being officious, superintendent. ’ He reached for his briefcase and fixed Shap with a look of dreadful black intensity. ‘Perhaps it is time for me to make my own disclosures. Your entire case against Miss Lockhart rests on some CCTV footage of the entrance to Mr Russell’s offices in Mortimer Street. Is that right? This footage comes from the town’s surveillance system, which is operated by the police. Is that also correct?’
Neither of the officers reacted, but Halliday shifted in his chair and leaned forward, suspecting that Turvey was about to show his hand.
‘Your images come from the police street surveillance system. But these days there are many such cameras operating and not all of them belong to the police. In that vicinity there is also a system run by a bank, which covers the front of the premises and looks out across the street, as it happens, onto the entrance of number six: there is a high-definition camera fixed inside the transom of the bank’s front door. My associates have now been able to retrieve images from this camera that show two men entering Mr Russell’s office about twenty minutes before my client and then leaving in some hurry. They went in carrying nothing, but, as you will see, one of them is leaving holding a file and the other is clutching his face. He is clearly injured, a fact that tallies with my client’s account of what happened inside that building. We have checked with Mr Russell’s secretary and found no appointments for two men of their appearance. She does not recognise them as clients of the late Mr Russell. And his partner, Paul Spring, says that he has never seen these individuals before.’
He paused and swept off his glasses. ‘I suggest to you that these were Mr Russell’s assailants - the men attacked him, broke into his safe and stole documents that were intended for my client.’ He placed the photographs one by one on the table, ending with a shot of the two men leaving the offices. ‘The point that won’t escape you, nor - if I may say so - the media, is that exactly the same footage, though perhaps not of similar quality, lies in the police system. Yet you did not think to view all the film available from that evening, an odd decision since it would have confirmed my client’s story.’ He raised a hand against Newsome’s protest. ‘The second part of your allegation, that Miss Lockhart arranged to travel to Dove Cottage where Mr Nock killed Mr Russell, does not stand up to examination either. Mr Nock has an iron-clad alibi for the period of an hour either side of Mr Russell’s death. As you very well know, he was in the local hospital seeing a specialist for torn ligaments in his shoulder. My associates have checked with the doctor and his receptionist, as have police officers from this station. He did not return home until four fifteen, by which time Mr Russell had been dead for nearly two hours. It was then that he took his dogs for a walk. Do I need to continue, chief inspector? No, because you know all this and yet you continue to deprive my client of her liberty and make these wild allegations against her when she herself could very easily have been shot too. Last night and through today you have leaked details about her life to the press, details that have come from this very room, superintendent. You have treated her to all the indignities of official suspicion, and at the same time shown scant regard for her safety or for the proper conduct of this case.’
His voice had risen steadily but now it fell to almost a whisper as he pushed a photograph under Shap’s gaze. ‘For it must be clear that these men are the only suspects in your case; that they are still at large and in a position to harm my client, who was the intended recipient of the documents they stole.’ His great hands pressed into the desk and he leaned forward so that his head was no more than a foot above the photograph. Kate was struck by the magnificence of his profile, like the head of an emperor on an ancient coin.
‘They killed Mr Russell because, while they had taken the documents, they suspected that he had some acquaintance with their contents. That is the only conclusion to draw.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Unless my client is released, these images will be issued to the media within the next half hour together with a press release drawn up by my office in London, explaining that instead of pursuing the obvious suspects you have hounded a potential victim. There will be a full discussion of the documents and what they may or may not contain. Given they once belonged to the late David Eyam, it seems likely that the media will show not inconsiderable interest in this angle, and I should imagine that this will also concern your masters at the Home Office.’ He drew back with no hint of the anger leaving his expression. ‘Now perhaps you gentlemen would like to consider my client’s position in the light of the evidence that I have laid before you. This country may have taken a lurch into the Dark Ages as far as due process is concerned, but some standards are still observed and there remain many remedies open to me.’
Shap had gone white with anger. ‘You think you can come in here and threaten me?’ he said.
‘Oh, make no mistake about it. I
am
threatening you and Chief Inspector Newsome here with immediate exposure for incompetence and possibly even negligence. How else would you describe the failure - deliberate or otherwise - to look at the complete footage from Mortimer Street?’
am
threatening you and Chief Inspector Newsome here with immediate exposure for incompetence and possibly even negligence. How else would you describe the failure - deliberate or otherwise - to look at the complete footage from Mortimer Street?’
‘You are attempting to influence the course of a police murder inquiry!’
‘What murder inquiry? You haven’t started yet, and that is what I propose to tell the media.’
The first reaction to this came from Halliday, who got up and left the room furiously but without saying anything. Then Newsome went through the routine with the tape recorder while Shap and Turvey stared each other down.
As they left, Turvey called after them, ‘Half an hour, gentlemen, that is what you’ve got. One half of one hour.’
‘That was impressive,’ she said. ‘I realised that they would have pictures of the men going in and coming out of the building.’
‘Of course you did, my dear - a clever lawyer like you. Of course you did. But much better that you let me defend you: it’s never easy to defend oneself.’
‘But it was a good ace beautifully played, Mr Turvey and I am grateful to you for coming all this way. I will call Sam Calvert and thank him when I get out of here.’
‘Oh, good Lord, Miss Lockhart, what on earth makes you think I’ve played my ace? That is for another time and I certainly don’t propose to use it on this occasion, nor even to tell you about it.’ He waved a hand airily towards the pair of black hemispheres fixed into the grid of ceiling tiles above them.
17
Book Lovers
Late on Friday afternoon Peter Kilmartin slipped into St James’s Library, caught Carrie Middleton’s eye and followed her gaze to the row of catalogue computers in the Issue Hall, which he went to consult. A few minutes later she bustled over in her neat, old-fashioned grey twinset to stand at the screen next to him. She said nothing, but searched the screen for a few seconds then took a scrap of paper from the holder beside the screen and, having noted down a reference number, left with the paper in her hand. Clever Carrie. A piece of paper remained on the desk with indentations of her writing clearly visible. Kilmartin’s hand absently drifted to retrieve it and then he wrote his own reference down, taking care not to obscure the furrows made by Carrie’s stubby little pencil. She was waiting at the far end of the stacks, sitting quietly at a small, unlit table. As he approached through the religious gloom, he reflected that he was far from protected against her charms, which came in a rare combination of warmth and brisk formality. Carrie had brown hair, dark eyes and a neat, womanly frame, always in his experience played down in somber-coloured outfits that were bought with an eye for quality during the January sales. She had the best taste of any woman he knew; at any rate it spoke to his eye.
‘You are naughty using the library like this, Mr Kilmartin,’ she said. ‘You’ll have us all locked up.’
‘I am sorry, Carrie,’ he said, sitting down opposite her, ‘but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. And please stop this Mr Kilmartin business. We have known each other far too long. Peter, please.’
‘All right, Peter, but it does seem strange. Anyway, I did want to talk to you because that young woman you told me about came in this morning and completed her membership. She asked for me by name and said she wanted to see the stacks and I showed her. She seemed very anxious. I asked what the matter was and she said she was sure she’d been followed. Anyway, we found the book together -
Babylon by
Eckhard Unger, last borrowed in December 1998. Your marker is still here on page a hundred and fifty.’ She opened the book and read,
‘Meiner Frau Hawiga in Liebe un Dankbarkiet Gewidmet
- to my wife Hawiga dedicated with love and gratitude - how romantic. I wonder where Herr Unger and his Frau are now . . . anyway.’ She looked up and smiled. ‘Mary MacCullum told me that if she was caught it would mean years in jail and she knew what that was like because she had already done eighteen months. For some reason she felt she could confide in me. We agreed that she couldn’t risk leaving these papers so that anyone could find them.’
Babylon by
Eckhard Unger, last borrowed in December 1998. Your marker is still here on page a hundred and fifty.’ She opened the book and read,
‘Meiner Frau Hawiga in Liebe un Dankbarkiet Gewidmet
- to my wife Hawiga dedicated with love and gratitude - how romantic. I wonder where Herr Unger and his Frau are now . . . anyway.’ She looked up and smiled. ‘Mary MacCullum told me that if she was caught it would mean years in jail and she knew what that was like because she had already done eighteen months. For some reason she felt she could confide in me. We agreed that she couldn’t risk leaving these papers so that anyone could find them.’
‘Oh well, I quite understand,’ said Kilmartin. ‘Thank you for telling me.’
‘Typical man,’ said Carrie. ‘You didn’t wait until I’d finished.’
‘Sorry, please go ahead, Carrie. I do apologise.’ It occurred to him that she was flirting and he reciprocated with what he suspected was a rather foolish smile.
‘So we agreed that I would hide the book in a place where only I could find it. Here’s the title and place.’ She handed him a piece of paper. ‘It’s been there just five minutes. No one will be up in “Religion” at this hour.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, pocketing the paper. ‘That really was beyond the call of duty.’
‘I felt sorry for her and I wanted to help.’ She leaned forward and placed her hand on his arm. A mixture of Chanel, and for Kilmartin the equally intoxicating scent of books, came to him. ‘You’re not going to get her into any more trouble, are you, Peter?’
‘I certainly hope not, Carrie,’ he murmured.
‘I changed the book because it wasn’t large enough to conceal the envelope. It’s one of your hollowed-out jobs.’
‘OK, I’d better go and see what she’s left.’
‘I’ll come up in about half an hour or so. Will that be enough time?’
‘Yes, I should imagine so. Thanks, Carrie. I am very grateful to you.’
He left for the main staircase, passed through ‘Literature’ into ‘Religion’ and quickly located
The Religious History of New England
. He sat down at a table overlooking the roofs behind the library. Black clouds moved from the west; the light was fading fast: he tugged at the light-cord and a line of fluorescent tubes flickered in relay along the bookshelves.
The Religious History of New England
. He sat down at a table overlooking the roofs behind the library. Black clouds moved from the west; the light was fading fast: he tugged at the light-cord and a line of fluorescent tubes flickered in relay along the bookshelves.
Inside the book were six sheets of paper folded into the size of a cigarette packet and held together by an elastic band. He undid them and found four sheets of an uncorrected transcript of secret evidence presented to the Intelligence and Security Committee for a date almost exactly two years before - March 20th. The top sheet of the transcript named the chairman and nine committee members. There were some opening remarks by the chairman. The next page was marked ‘20’. This was Eyam’s moment of gallantry, the moment when he gave up everything to tell the truth. His eyes ran down to the name Sidney Hale MP.
Sidney Hale:
Thank you, chairman. As you know, this committee has a particular onus of scrutiny owing to the conditions of secrecy in which we operate. We report to the prime minister but our primary duty is to Parliament and to the people of this country. There is a fine line between the interests of the state and of security and the interests of the people and good governance. I will make no attempt to draw conclusions before we have heard Mr Eyam’s evidence, but I think it’s important that we listen very closely to what he has to say.
Thank you, chairman. As you know, this committee has a particular onus of scrutiny owing to the conditions of secrecy in which we operate. We report to the prime minister but our primary duty is to Parliament and to the people of this country. There is a fine line between the interests of the state and of security and the interests of the people and good governance. I will make no attempt to draw conclusions before we have heard Mr Eyam’s evidence, but I think it’s important that we listen very closely to what he has to say.
Chairman:
Very well, let’s get on with it. Mr Eyam, would you like to step forward?
Very well, let’s get on with it. Mr Eyam, would you like to step forward?
Mr Hale:
Thank you, Mr Eyam, for agreeing to appear a second time. On the last occasion we were in this room you were asked about a project called SPINDRIFT. Is that correct?
David Eyam:
Yes.
Thank you, Mr Eyam, for agreeing to appear a second time. On the last occasion we were in this room you were asked about a project called SPINDRIFT. Is that correct?
David Eyam:
Yes.
Mr Hale:
As acting chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee and an important member of the prime minister’s staff in Downing Street responsible for strategic security issues, you assured us that - and here I think it would be helpful to quote from the record - ‘No such thing as SPINDRIFT exists and I have never heard of the name.’ Is that true?
Mr Eyam
: It is true that I said that, yes.
As acting chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee and an important member of the prime minister’s staff in Downing Street responsible for strategic security issues, you assured us that - and here I think it would be helpful to quote from the record - ‘No such thing as SPINDRIFT exists and I have never heard of the name.’ Is that true?
Mr Eyam
: It is true that I said that, yes.
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