To Make a Killing (12 page)

Chapter 15

Monday, 21st September, late afternoon

Everyone was elated. Keane, Jenkins, Parker, Connolly, Hassan. Hayes, too. They had phoned to him, even though it was
2 am in Adelaide. He was awake, of course, and he unwrapped one of his three bottles to reveal the same illustrious capsule and cork that Keane had found.

But they still had to catch their man. And even though the description of the killer provided by the new witnesses matched that of the mystery man who had contacted Madame Chaboulet, laying a trap for their man was going to prove harder than they initially had anticipated. There were hundreds of restaurants in London. Thankfully only a limited number of these were likely to have clientele who would cough up big money for a rare claret.

Symonds would have been just the man to assist them in selecting probable target restaurants, but that was out of the question. It was Angus who came to the rescue. A food critic, Kay Windham, was a good friend of his wife. Half an hour after a brief chat on the phone, Angus received an e-mail from her with a list of 32 likely restaurants and another 15 outsiders.

So far, so good. However, they were still on what Blinky would have referred to as a ‘sticky wicket’. What they had to avoid at all costs, was any visible police presence, at exactly those restaurants which the murderer probably had singled out as likely ‘customers’. At the same time, they had to ensure that any telephonic enquiries to the restaurants were taken just as seriously as they would have been, if the Police had turned up in person. Furthermore, they had to be completely certain that no word got out about the enquiries they were making. And time was of the essence. Who could say when the killer would call it a day and decide to move on? Or worse still, attempt another sacrificial killing to divert attention again?

Keane and Angus decided that they would have to make the calls, using their rank to ensure discretion.

Three hours later, around 8pm, having contacted 28 restaurants, the mood had become pessimistic and tense. At least a dozen, by Keane and Angus’ estimation, had been tricked but refused to admit it. Nine restaurants had conceded that they had purchased the fake Château Latour. The reactions from these restaurant owners had ranged from fury to disbelief to fear of conviction. Seven of them had given a description of the seller that fit Russell in his mask. Two described another man who fit the description of their murderer.

The result of 29th call was the one they had been hoping for from the start. The owner of “Maison Rive Gauche”, a Dane named Niels Frederiksen, informed them that he had been contacted regarding the possible purchase of an exceptional lot of wine, which the seller had recovered. Frederiksen had an appointment with the man, the following morning at half past ten.

It was all systems go. First of all, Mr. Frederiksen had to be informed about what they suspected the man of, and that they wanted to use his restaurant to trap him. Mr Frederiksen was far from overjoyed about the idea.

“Please calm down, Mr. Frederiksen. I assure you, the men who will be doing this job are highly-trained professionals. Neither you nor your staff will be in any danger. We simply need access to your restaurant from tonight after you have closed until the scheduled meeting tomorrow.”

“OK. What do I have to do?”

“Well, first of all you must say nothing about this to anybody. You must behave exactly as you normally would. Follow all your normal routines. What time do you usually leave on Mondays?”

“It’s different. Any time between midnight and 2 in the morning.”

“Are you normally the last to leave?”

“Yes.”

“Leave 5 minutes after your last employee has left. Take your usual route and means of transport and go straight home. I will be waiting to meet you outside your home in a parked, dark green Morgan. Once again: I’m Detective Superintendent Keane, and I’ll show you my identification as soon as you approach my car. I will give you full details of what is going to happen. I will need a key from you that let’s us into the back entrance, and all details about any security codes.

Once we have finished this call, I would like you to call me back immediately, by ringing to Scotland Yard and asking for me personally, so that you can be quite sure this is no hoax.”

“OK. I’ll do that.”

Frederiksen did call 2 minutes later. He got through to Keane and – much to his disappointment - his last doubt was removed.

Keane and Angus then immediately began making arrangements with the Police Firearms Unit. They in turn began to work immediately on the logistics of their plan on the basis of the address they had been given.

*********

Hayes, too, had been busy in
Australia. It was 5:3 0 am there, but he wasn’t even sleepy. What was more, he now knew there was only 15 hours until the start of the operation, and he’d been working on a lead Keane had given him. The bottles and corks that Randolph had used had not been produced by Penrith. So where had they come from?

Hayes had been ploughing through Randolph’s correspondence, searching for any link to a South American producer, and just after 6 o’clock local time he found it. It was an invoice that had been made two years ago for 12,000 bottles and corks, with an accompanying specification that made little sense to Hayes. He calculated it would be about 3pm in Santiago, so he called directly to the company whose number was on the invoice. As it was ringing, he wondered how on earth he would explain this to Randolph if he walked in. Then he realized it was Randolph who would have a lot of explaining to do. Hayes was clearly a lot more tired than he had realized!

The phone was answered and a woman spoke Spanish at him at 100 mph. “Hablo Ingles?” tried Hayes.

“No, señor. Bla-bla-bla-bla-bla-bla-bla”.

Hayes apologized: “Pardonez-moi” and realized as she put the phone down, that he had just concluded the call in French. He could not believe he had got this far, just to be pipped at the post, and all because he had always preferred Bournemouth to Ibiza. He pulled himself together, and wracked his tired brain. “Ibiza!” he thought. Jenkins was always going on about it. He called her at her home address. She was not there. Of course, she would be at the station. He got hold of her there, explained everything, faxed her a copy of the invoice and specification from the company in Santiago, and effectively passed the buck to her.

Hayes set Randolph’s alarm clock to wake him at 10:30 am BST, and then crashed out on the sofa.

*********

Jenkins was thrilled to finally get into the thick of the action. Throughout this case she had always been on the periphery, and any lead that had seemed promising had simply evaporated once she had probed into it. And now, at the kill, things had escalated out of their hands. She had been like a cat on a hot tin roof. But now, out of nowhere, she had been given a chance to make a difference. She knew Keane would have preferred to have been informed before she made the call, but she chose to go for glory. Her Spanish, albeit poor, was sufficient for her to get past the receptionist and to get hold of the company’s Director, a Señor Emilio Sanchez. Fortunately, his English was better than her Spanish.

Jenkins had expected a tussle to establish her credibility, but the words “Scotland Yard” were seemingly on a par with “Buckingham Palace”, and once she had faxed him the invoice and accompanying specification, a surprisingly cooperative Sanchez was soon looking through the company’s files. After a couple of minutes, he confirmed that the ordered goods had been sent from them to the Australian customer.

“Did you not find the order to be suspicious in any way?”

“No, no, not at all. You see, señorita, we also make bottles that are not used for normal wine-making, example: like for the entertainment industry or shop window decoration, etc.”

“Can you remember who handled the order?”

“No, but I remember one of our salesman go to Australia to follow . . . to . . . to check the sale; to be sure the customer be pleased with the delivery, and to see if there are other products we can sell them. Australia is an important market, and we want to get more business there.”

“Can you tell me the name of the salesman?”

“Yes, it was Diego Calderón, an acquaintance of mine. I bring him into our company 2 years ago. He works in our foreign sales department, because he has excellent language skills.”

“Where is he now?”

“Now he is in Europe, trying to make some more business for the company. He’s away about one month now”

“I have to tell you, sir, that we have a strong suspicion, that he is involved in a serious crime. It is very important that you do not contact him or anyone else about this, and that you fax us immediately his photo and as many details about him as possible, including everything you know about his past.”

Jenkins gave Sanchez the necessary details, and he – although shocked at first – retained his cooperative attitude, which she thanked him for when she concluded the call.

Moments later she was standing outside Keane’s office. Her mind was in turmoil. How was she going to present this hugely significant breakthrough to Keane, and at the same time gloss over the fact, that she had patently ‘gone it alone’, when she knew she should have informed him before calling to Chile. She knocked on the door, and was beckoned in by Keane.

As she approached his desk, Jenkins was flushed and flustered in a way that Keane had never seen before; it was quite out of character. He may have been exhausted mentally, emotionally and physically, but he knew instinctively that the next few moments would require him to utilise all his ‘people skills’.

“Sit down, Jenkins. Are you alright?”

“Yes, sir. It’s . . . ”

“Would you like a cup of tea?” Keane cringed inside; this was so out of character for him. She blushed more deeply.

“Er, no. Thank you, sir. Er . . . “

He was making this worse! Let her speak, for God’s sake, he thought to himself.

“I’m sorry, Jenkins, you were about to say something.”

“Well, I got a call from Hayes about 45 minutes ago, and, and, I knew you were busy, and . . . so I made a call to Chile, because . . .”

“You made a call to Chile?” Keane instantly feared the worse. She’s blown it. The murderer knows we are on to him. She’s blown it!

“. . . because Hayes discovered a connection between Randolph and a Chilean producer of bottles and corks, and . . .”

The worst was out. She could see the dark clouds had rolled in over Keane’s brow the second she had said “I made a call”. There was no going back, and this seemed somehow to alleviate the worst of her fears. She recalled her success and decided to head straight for the finishing-line:

“. . . and I got through to the manager, and right now he’s faxing us the details of their agent, who oversaw the deal, and he’s our man!”

Keane knew that Jenkins’ revelation could be good news or bad news. He knew too, that the deed was done. Now all he could do was to get all the details from her to see the extent of the damage. He calmed down. He forced what could have passed for a gentle smile, and said:

“This sounds like a real breakthrough, Jenkins. Now, please, relax and tell me every detail, from the moment you got the call from Hayes until your last words with the Chilean manager.”

Jenkins recounted the events, the words that were said, her thoughts and decisions. As she spoke he realized that he had assumed the worst. He really had to learn to be grateful for having assistants who were both competent and willing to take responsibility. His smile relaxed.

“Jenkins, you have done really well. But you do realize that the manager could have been in on it?”

“Yes, sir. I just followed my gut-feeling.”

“Well, let’s see what he’s sent us, shall we?” He got up and they went to the fax machine. Around
10:00 pm, Keane and his crew were finally able to put a face and a history to the identity of their prime suspect.

The photo was an enlarged image of Diego Calderón’s calling card. Although the quality was poor, Keane knew instantly that he had seen the face before, though when and where escaped him for the time being.