Death By Dangerous (24 page)

DCI Armstrong burst into the open plan office, fuming. ‘Everyone out, now!'

Stunned, the officers left what they were doing and made their way out.

‘On the double! Not you.' He pointed a finger at Taylor.

Once they were alone, Armstrong launched at the DI: ‘What did you think you were doing?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You know exactly what I mean − accusing Sandra Granger of lying? Still mourning the death of her five-year-old daughter. Just had her on the phone. Wants to make a complaint. What were you playing at?'

‘I don't think she told the truth in court,' Taylor replied, though he knew he'd been out of order.

‘And who the hell are you to decide that? The jury didn't agree.'

‘I'm not sure about the safety of the conviction.'

‘What?' Armstrong pointed a finger at Taylor. ‘And when did you become judge and jury? Getting too big for your effing boots, Taylor.'

‘I'm sorry but the evidence—'

Armstrong cut him off. ‘This is because I made DCI isn't it? You want to undermine me?'

‘Where did that come from? I never wanted it.'

‘This is going on your file.'

‘My file?' Unable to control himself, Taylor got up and stood toe to toe with the DCI. ‘Why does it matter so much anyway? Come to think of it, why did this case need a DI? So what if Anderson's a barrister?' Taylor's brain was ticking over. Seeing things from a different angle. ‘Why was it so important to get me on this case? Who wanted me to nail Anderson so badly?'

Armstrong lost some of his bluster. ‘Always have to rebel against authority, don't you? That's why you never made it.'

‘What? Didn't kiss the right arses, like you, you mean?'

‘You cheeky git. Right, that's it. Go home and calm down.' Armstrong shoved him in the shoulder. ‘Go on, sod off.'

‘With pleasure.' Taylor stormed out. It wasn't until he reached the car park that he got a sinking feeling. He'd overreacted. But why? Armstrong's offensive remarks had never got to him before.

Was it because of a dawning realisation that somehow an innocent man had been convicted?

And that he had unwittingly been party to it?

Taylor had lost track of time. The Mickey Mouse alarm clock said 4.03am. He'd been sitting there for over an hour. He leaned into both bunks and kissed his children gently on their cheeks. Taylor often watched them sleeping when
he
couldn't. He thought of Anderson's children − without a father.

He crept back into his bedroom and slipped silently under the duvet.

‘What is it, Mark?' His wife knew him better than anyone.

‘Nothing, go back to sleep, love.'

She flopped an arm onto his chest. ‘It's not nothing. You've not slept for three nights. Now what is it?'

Taylor turned the bedside lamp on and sat up. ‘It's the Anderson case.'

‘Not that again?'

‘Shush, you'll wake the kids.'

In more of a whisper: ‘I thought you were finished with all that?'

‘I was. They're appealing, asking all sorts of questions.'

She sat up. ‘And do you know the answers?'

‘No, but I think there is something
to
know that's been kept from me.'

‘OK.'

‘I may be wrong but Armstrong has been acting strangely and I think he went to see someone recently, to do with this case. There was an address in his diary.' Taylor stopped himself. It was the first time he'd aired these thoughts to anyone.

‘And?'

‘It may be nothing but if I was defending I would want to know. It goes against everything I believe in, to go and leak information to the defence, and anyway it might have absolutely no relevance,' he said, trying to convince himself he wasn't thinking straight. ‘But something is wrong here. I want to do the right thing.'

She stroked his forehead. ‘What is it about this man?'

‘I don't know.'

She waited.

‘Unless he's the world's best liar, I think he's innocent. A very honourable and decent man. I did a real job on him in interview.' He shook his head. ‘As good as sent him to jail.'

‘Hush, you were only doing your job.' After some reflection, she asked, ‘If you tell the defence this thing, will it affect your pension?'

Taylor laughed. ‘Only if I get caught.'

She leaned over and kissed him. ‘Then don't get caught.'

That was why he loved her.

Adey was determined to remain professional – not let her anger show itself. Just a job, she kept telling herself. She had a perfect vantage point from Strada, a restaurant adjacent to the communal entrance of the Spinningfields apartment. Her enquiries revealed that Daddy had paid for it.

Adey didn't have to wait long before she clocked the young blond in Ugg boots and fake fur, swaggering out of the building and across the Square.

Adey followed. She'd made the decision not to go to the address to confront her. Bound to result in a door being slammed in her face. Catching her out in the open would make it more difficult for Tilly to end the conversation.

Into Waitrose on Bridge Street.

Ten minutes later Tilly reappeared, laden with a bag in each hand.

Adey crossed the road to confront her. ‘Hello, Tilly.'

Tilly gave her a quizzical look. Already on her guard: ‘Do I know you?'

‘Part of John Anderson's legal team. We're appealing. Thought you might like to do the right thing and make a statement admitting your lies at the trial.'

‘Piss off.' Tilly put her head down and picked up the pace.

Adey matched it, now walking two abreast. ‘He wasn't tired at all, was he? Sam Connor has made a further statement.' Exaggerating, she added, ‘A retraction.'

Tilly pressed on. ‘Leave me alone.'

‘At least Connor has finally decided to do the right thing.'

‘That loser?' Tilly's anger took over. She stopped. ‘I've lost everything because of him. You know they didn't give me a tenancy? Chucked me out, the bastards.'

Adey laughed. ‘Live by the sword—'

‘Connor got looked after though, didn't he? No one threw
him
out of chambers. My career's stuffed now.'

‘I'm sure you'll survive, resourceful girl like you.'

‘You taking the piss?' Tilly's temperature was still rising.

So was Adey's. ‘You spoilt little brat. What about John Anderson? You sent an innocent man to jail.'

‘Who are you to speak to me like that?'

‘You don't give a shit about anyone but yourself, do you?'

Outraged at the observation, Tilly took a step back, dropped one bag then swung the one in her right hand at Adey's head.

Adey ducked.

It hit the wall, spattering milk in all directions.

The momentum caught Tilly off balance.

Adey thrust a hand to Tilly's throat, pinning her against the wall. With the other she poked Tilly's forehead. ‘Nothing in there. Just one bad mother, aren't you?'

Eyes blazing, Tilly didn't reply.

Adey tutted, then released her grip. ‘Bitch, you ain't worth it.'

Leaving her shopping strewn on the pavement, Tilly hurried off up the street.

Adey kicked the wall in frustration. She didn't have the witness statement she'd come for.

This appeal was going nowhere.

Hussain had already taken the train to Euston.

He wanted to stay the night in London so that he was fresh in the morning. Appearing before three High Court judges was nerve-wracking enough, but acting for an applicant, without leave to appeal, that he cared so much about, and with no fresh evidence, was almost too much to bear. How was he was going to find the answers in court?

Adey was going down in the morning. She locked up the office and started walking back to Hulme, so engrossed in the appeal she didn't notice the rain. Was there something she'd missed? Something she should've done? What did
05man
mean? How would Anderson cope when the appeal was dismissed?

‘Evening, Adey.'

The voice came from the darkness of a shop doorway. A figure stepped into the light. She could see a raincoat with the collar turned up. DI Taylor.

‘What do you want?'

‘I was sorry to hear about leave being refused in Anderson.'

‘Well, we're going anyway, like you give a shit.'

‘I'm here to help you, so why don't you wind your neck in and listen?'

Embarrassed, Adey realised she had nothing to lose by hearing him out. ‘OK, what is it?'

‘This never came from me. Clear?'

‘OK.'

Taylor needed reassurance. ‘Do I have your word on that?'

‘You trust my word?'

Taylor managed a smile. ‘Yes, I do.'

‘Then you've got it.'

‘OK. After all that build up, it may be nothing. And let me make it plain, I know no more than you, it's a hunch.'

‘Understood.'

Taylor still wasn't sure he was doing the right thing. ‘I think you could be looking in the wrong place.'

‘Wrong place? What do you mean?'

‘You've been focusing on police-held intelligence. I saw something connected to this case that had an address on it – Thames House.'

‘Thames House?'

‘Yes − MI5.'

Adey could hardly believe what she was hearing. ‘Are you sure?'

‘No, I'm not. I've told you that.'

‘But the hearing is tomorrow morning!'

‘No time to waste then. I've done my bit, the rest is up to you.'

Taylor walked off into the evening drizzle.

MI5? Adey's head was in a whirl.

The Royal Courts of Justice, a magnificent nineteenth-century gothic building on the Strand – home of the Court of Appeal.

Hussain sat in the café opposite, eyes fixed on the imposing archway, waiting for the doors to open. Butterflies in his stomach. This was his first appearance as an advocate in the appellate court. These judges were the brains of England. As an instructing solicitor he'd been a few times to sit behind a barrister and had witnessed them cut down where they stood by the superior intellects of those on the bench. This court did not suffer fools gladly. Hussain reminded himself that John Anderson had reason to be far more anxious about today's proceedings than him.

At last, the front gate was unlocked. Hussain hurried across the road, keen to spend as much time as possible with his client before the hearing. On receiving Adey's phone call the night before, Hussain had been in a state of panic. MI5? Was it really possible? Surely they needed more time to investigate this new lead?

Hussain stopped in the Great Hall and stared up at the ceiling. A visitor could be in no doubt this was the heart of the criminal justice system of England and Wales. Gothic archways leading off or up to the courtrooms. It took years to really know one's way around the countless passageways of these law courts. He scurried off to the only robing room he knew, on the right of the entrance, and began to put on his collar and bands.

Once robed, he headed back across the Great Hall towards the cells.

‘Hey, Hussain?' Hannah Stapleton was marching towards him. ‘What do you call this?' she demanded, waving a printout of the email he'd sent her the night before. ‘MI5? Are you having a laugh?'

‘Do I look like I'm laughing?'

She read from the email: ‘“Does MI5 hold any intelligence on Michael Doran, aka Mohammed Mohammed, that is relevant to this case?” How the hell am I supposed to action that? We're on at 10.30.'

Hussain took solace from Stapleton's tirade. All counsel, however senior, found an appearance at the Court of Appeal a stressful experience. ‘Please just do what you can? Thanks.'

Hussain caught sight of Adey coming through security and took his cue to leave Stapleton, standing open-mouthed in the middle of the Great Hall. ‘Have you seen West or Connor yet?' he barked at Adey.

‘No, I haven't. Calm down, Taz.'

‘I'm sorry.' He took a few deep breaths.

‘You look knackered, are you OK?'

‘I need to know if West and Connor are here. Please find them, then meet me in the cells.'

They set off in different directions.

The door to the cells was as old as the building itself.

‘Yes, sir,' came the chirpy greeting from the cockney prison officer on opening up.

‘John Anderson, please?'

The officer studied his clipboard. ‘Not here, sir. He waived.'

Hussain began to panic. ‘Waived? That's not possible. I know he would have exercised his right to attend.'

‘Leave him alone. Can't you see he's nervous enough?' said the officer's colleague appearing at the door. He turned to Hussain: ‘Thinks he's funny, bloody pillock. Come this way.'

Hussain followed the second man down to the cells, whilst the joker chuckled to himself.

Anderson was soon brought limping into the conference room. He slumped onto a chair. ‘Another marathon in the sweatbox,' he explained. ‘Had to stop at all the prisons in England on the way down, then a dreadful time in Pentonville last night.'

Hussain could see Anderson was really suffering.

‘Anyway, enough of all that. Any developments?'

Hussain updated Anderson with Taylor's leak about MI5.

Like Hussain and Adey, Anderson couldn't believe it. ‘I just can't see where MI5 could possibly fit into this?'

‘John, let me apply to adjourn? Buy us some time.'

‘No, we need to keep the pressure on. Ask Stapleton to get someone from MI5 here today.'

‘John, this is suicidal.'

But Anderson was in no mood to back off now.