Death By Dangerous (26 page)

Hussain was glad of the respite from the judges' glowers.

Anderson brushed off Hussain's continued apologies for the disastrous cross, but inside he was distraught. They needed a miracle.

‘Right,' said Stapleton, sliding along counsels' row to where the defence were sitting. ‘We've managed to get someone here from MI5. His name is Saul Pennington.'

‘Does he know anything?' asked Hussain.

‘Only this: they were aware of Doran. They knew he was bitter about his 2003 conviction and bore a grudge against the police and lawyers involved. It's got no relevance to this case.'

Hussain wasn't prepared to just accept it. ‘You'll have to stick him in the box.'

‘Sure,' replied Stapleton, unconcerned about this apparently peripheral piece of disclosure.

As she moved back to the prosecution team, Anderson caught Taylor's eye. They read each other's mind – this guy, Pennington, knew more than he was letting on.

‘All rise!' The judges came back into court.

Hussain was in a flap, whispering to Anderson: ‘I don't know what I'm going to ask this witness.'

Anderson poured him a glass of water. Hussain snatched nervously at it, causing droplets to splash over Anderson's papers.

‘My Lord,' Stapleton announced. ‘I call Saul Pennington from MI5.'

Anderson, desperately trying to think of some line of cross-examination for Hussain, dabbed at the wet sheets with a tissue Adey had handed him.

Once the witness was sworn, Stapleton tendered him to Hussain, who rose slowly to his feet. What was he going to ask?

Anderson stared at one particular piece of paper from his file:

John Anderson, Spinningfields Chambers – 05man.

The water had made the ink run; the words were blurred. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat. Could it be he had the answer? Thoughts crystallizing, he pulled at Hussain's gown, who was still trying to think of his first question. ‘Would you like me to take this witness?'

‘Are you sure?' Hussain was more than happy to let Anderson take the flak.

‘Yes, if the Court allows it. It's the most important cross-examination of my life. I should be the one to do it.'

Hussain nodded. ‘My Lord, Mr Anderson will take this witness.'

‘What?' erupted Billings. ‘You are the advocate, you will take the witness.'

‘My Lord, it is open to the applicant to sack me in any event, and conduct the hearing as a litigant in person. Ultimately, it is his right.'

Hussain had a point. Reluctantly: ‘Oh, very well, let's get on with it.'

John Anderson winced in pain as he rose to his feet, resting an arm on the lectern to spare his injured leg the full weight of his body. Much had happened since he last conducted a cross-examination. It felt strange, not least because he was without the protection of a wig and gown. Anderson took a deep breath. Everything had come down to this.

He began: ‘What is your official job title, Mr Pennington?'

‘I don't really have a title as such.'

‘Are you a field operative?'

‘No, I'm not.'

‘It's just that I want to establish how high up you are in the organisation. Are you a fall guy that knows very little, sent here to answer questions, or are you a decision maker?'

‘Well, I'm part of a team but I can answer your questions.'

‘Thank you, Mr Pennington.' Now the gentle sparring was over, Anderson decided to up the ante: ‘It was disclosed to us today that you had information about Mr Doran, otherwise known as Mr Mohammed.'

‘Yes, we did.'

‘You had that prior to the 24
^th
January?'

‘Yes.'

‘That he was bitter about his conviction?'

‘Yes.'

‘Was he making threats towards me?'

‘You and a lot of other people. He's a very disturbed individual.'

‘How did you come by this information?'

‘He came to our attention during an undercover operation.'

‘What was the nature of that operation?'

‘That's very sensitive, classified information. I don't want to answer that.'

‘Well, is the operation still ongoing?'

‘No.'

‘Were arrests made?'

‘Yes.'

‘So, answering my question will not compromise any operations, will it?'

‘I suppose not.'

‘So, I will ask you again, what was the nature of that operation?'

Pennington glanced sideways at Stapleton.

Anderson reined him in: ‘There's no point looking at her, Mr Pennington. The way it works, you see, is if you have sensitive material that you don't want to disclose, it's given to the CPS and Miss Stapleton reviews whether it is disclosable. But MI5 didn't give the prosecution anything, did they?'

‘No, we didn't.'

‘No, you kept them in the dark. So now, unless His Lordship says otherwise, you will answer my questions, understood?'

‘Yes.'

Anderson was already in control. His Lordship couldn't help but be impressed.

‘So, the operation, Mr Pennington?'

‘We had information that two Pakistani nationals, known criminals, were attempting to set up a terrorist cell in the Manchester area.'

‘Go on.'

Pennington huffed, annoyed that he was having to divulge the information. ‘They were seeking to recruit what we call “young impressionables” that attended Manchester Central Mosque. One of those they enlisted was Mohammed Mohammed, formerly known as Michael Doran.'

‘Right, and can I assume you had an undercover operative who infiltrated the cell?'

‘Yes. That operative heard the threats made by Doran towards yourself.'

‘Anything else that might be important you want to tell the Court?'

After some hesitation: ‘No, I don't think so.'

Anderson flopped onto his seat.

Relieved it was over, Pennington made to leave the witness box.

‘I'm sorry, Mr Pennington,' said Anderson, getting back on his feet. ‘Please come back. It's my leg, it gave way. Does that sometimes. I'm not finished.'

Pennington stopped.

‘Did Heena Butt work for MI5?'

‘No.'

‘Are you sure about that?'

‘Yes,' he replied, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

Stapleton got up. ‘I think that's enough, My Lord. Mr Anderson is fishing for evidence. The workings of MI5 are highly classified for obvious reasons. Can we let Mr Pennington get back to protecting our shores?'

‘Yes, I agree,' replied Mr Justice Billings. ‘Thank you for coming, Mr Pennington.'

‘My Lord,' said Anderson. ‘Just one question that might lead to something − if not, I'm finished with the witness and would abandon this appeal.'

Too good an offer to refuse. ‘Very well, just that one matter, Mr Anderson.'

‘Mr Pennington,' said Anderson, holding up a piece of paper. ‘This was found in Heena Butt's handbag. I thought it read: “John Anderson – Spinningfields Chambers – 05 man”. But I got the last word wrong, didn't I?'

Pennington appeared to study the document. ‘I don't know.'

‘It actually says “Osman”
,
doesn't it?'

Hussain suddenly realised where this was going.

‘I don't know,' Pennington replied.

‘As an MI5 officer you must be aware of the famous case of
Osman v UK
?'

‘Yes.' The witness was becoming more agitated.

‘That case, which went all the way to the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg, founded a fundamental principle: that if any state agency had information that one of its citizens, whether in jail or out, was at risk of being killed, the state had a duty to tell them of the threat.' Anderson banged his fist down on the lectern. ‘That's right, isn't it?'

Pennington had no choice but to answer: ‘Yes.'

‘We as lawyers, and you as MI5 officers, know that as an Osman warning?'

‘Yes.'

Anderson leaned forward and said very slowly: ‘On the 24
^th
January was Heena Butt tasked with giving me an Osman warning?'

Pennington sighed. Eventually, almost in a whisper: ‘Yes.'

‘I didn't hear you.'

Louder: ‘Yes.'

Stapleton leapt to her feet. ‘My Lord, the prosecution were not aware of this.'

The judges were still reeling from the last answer.

Anderson had the initiative. He pressed on: ‘I will ask you again, did Miss Butt work for MI5?'

‘No, she didn't.' Pennington paused, then admitted, ‘She worked for the Pakistani intelligence services. She was with us on secondment. Butt was an alias we gave her.'

Anderson's team scoffed. Even the judge couldn't let that one go: ‘Mr Pennington, in future, make sure you are less economical with the truth.'

Pennington turned crimson. ‘My Lord.'

‘Please continue, Mr Anderson.'

Anderson acknowledged the judge's green light. ‘So Heena Butt, real name I assume is classified, was to warn me that Doran was planning to kill me?'

‘Yes.'

‘Did Doran say how he was going to do it?'

‘Not exactly, but he said it would involve Rohypnol.'

Anderson closed his eyes for a moment. Gasps from the gallery. Stapleton turned to her team, clearly unaware of this latest revelation. ‘Miss Butt was too late, though, wasn't she?'

‘I don't know what you mean?'

Anderson, flabbergasted by that lie, almost shouted the next question. ‘Everything that happened to me on the 24
^th
January, everything I described, is consistent with my being drugged, isn't it?'

‘I can't answer that, I'm not an expert.'

‘Come now, Mr Pennington. At the very least you should have disclosed what you knew to the police after the accident, so my blood could have been tested for the presence of Rohypnol?'

‘That wasn't my decision.'

‘Oh, I see, time to pass the buck.' For the first time Anderson saw the bigger picture. ‘There were two courses of action open to you; the first was to disclose this at my trial, or if the information was too sensitive to disclose, explain it to the CPS and indicate that I shouldn't be prosecuted. Why didn't that happen, Mr Pennington?'

Pennington shrugged.

‘Is it because MI5 knew that Doran was out on licence from a life sentence? He'd breached his licence conditions, hadn't he, by associating with criminals at the mosque?' Anderson waited for an answer.

‘Technically, he was in breach, yes.'

‘So you should have notified the parole board, who would have recalled him to prison. But you decided not to compromise the operation, didn't you?'

‘Yes.'

‘And Doran went on to cause the deaths of two people – Heena Butt and Molly Granger?'

‘Yes.'

‘Was it worth it? Was the secrecy of your operation worth two lives? The life of a child?'

Pennington didn't reply.

‘You knew that if I wasn't prosecuted, people would want answers as to why.' Anderson turned and pointed to Mr and Mrs Granger. ‘In particular, the parents of Molly Granger.'

Tears were streaming down Mrs Granger's cheeks.

‘You couldn't risk it getting out that you'd kept quiet about Doran's criminal activities, so I was sacrificed?'

All Pennington could say was, ‘It wasn't my decision. I know there were discussions about what to do.'

‘I bet there were,' Anderson seethed. ‘And then a week after the crash, Doran raped and mutilated an eighteen-year-old girl, didn't he?'

‘Yes.'

‘Now there was definitely no going back. It could never get out, could it?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘The first decision not to arrest Doran could possibly have been justified as being in the public interest – national security. But once he'd caused two deaths, you had to take him out. Not doing so was a fatal mistake?'

Pennington nodded: ‘Yes.'

‘So the Doran saga was buried. And that meant it had to be hidden from all parties in
R v Anderson
.'

‘It wasn't that simple.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘After the offence on the 31
^st
, on the eighteen-year-old girl, he was locked up anyway. And we assumed you knew about the Rohypnol − you'd have the blood tested, so we wouldn't have to disclose anything.'

‘Why on earth would you think that?' Anderson fumed.

‘Well, because Butt had given Orlando West an Osman on the morning of the crash − the 24
^th
. Told him about Rohypnol. He was your leader in the Doran case. He'd had the same threats.'

Silence smashed around the courtroom.

Everyone stared at West, who was still sitting in the gallery. Mia, distressed, did the same, then stood up and staggered out of court. West appeared frozen to the spot.

Anderson couldn't believe what he was hearing. His closest friend had known all along; watched him go to jail. Lied in the witness box.

Anderson had to stay focused. ‘But when you realised West wasn't going to share that information, you still kept your mouths shut and watched me drown?'

‘I have to accept that.'

Anderson handed the usher the photo Adey had taken of the man who chased her. ‘Mr Pennington, who is this?'

He glanced at the exhibit. ‘An MI5 operative.'

‘Even during my trial you were still trying to put my lawyers off the scent, weren't you?'

Pennington hung his head in shame.

‘Mr Pennington, I spent seventeen years prosecuting criminals for my country. I gave it everything, day in, day out; it's an ugly business. Always at risk of someone trying to take revenge. Screws up your relationships, your life.' Anderson's voice broke up. ‘You were supposed to protect me. Look at me, Mr Pennington.'

Pennington raised his head.

‘I was abandoned in the blink of an eye, like I was nothing. I demand to know who made that decision?'

Pennington could keep it in no more. ‘It wasn't MI5. It was a hot potato right from the start. We couldn't authorise the continued freedom of a psychopath like Doran. Had to be referred up, to the Home Office.
They
decided to keep the CPS in the dark throughout your trial.'

‘Of course,' said Anderson. ‘It was a political decision. How high did it go?'

‘It's not for me to say, but we had it signed off. It's all on file.'

‘Let me see it.'

Pennington glanced up at the judge, who responded by saying, ‘Show him.'

Pennington opened his briefcase and took a document out of a folder. The usher took it and handed it to Anderson.

John Anderson couldn't believe his eyes.

After a few seconds he handed the document back to the usher, who in turn returned it to Pennington. In a complete volte-face, Anderson said, ‘My Lord, I wonder whether it actually matters who it was? Before I go any further, I invite the Crown to consider whether they oppose this application for leave to appeal?'

After some urgent whispering between the CPS lawyers and Stapleton, she got to her feet. ‘Neither do we oppose the application for leave nor the subsequent appeal against conviction.'

‘Very wise, Miss Stapleton.' His Lordship muttered a few words to his brother judges, then: ‘We grant leave and we quash this conviction. There will be no retrial. It seems plain as a pike staff that Mr Anderson was drugged. A written judgement will follow.' Mr Justice Billings addressed Anderson: ‘A brilliant cross-examination. I hope you haven't lost faith in the criminal justice system, Mr Anderson? We need more advocates like you at the Bar.'

Anderson could hardly take it in, let alone consider his future.

‘And, Mr Hussain, you showed great courage in the face of stiff criticism.'

Hussain was almost sure the old judge winked.

As people left their seats and began to file out of the courtroom, His Lordship added: ‘Just a minute, dock officer. As sad as it makes me to say it, Mr West will have to be taken down to the cells for the moment. Is there a police officer here?'

Taylor stood up. ‘Yes, My Lord. I am the Officer In The Case.'

‘Very good. No doubt you would wish to arrest Mr West for perjury?'

‘Yes, My Lord.'

‘Perhaps you could arrange for his transportation from the cells to a police station for interview.'