False Witness (John Steel series Book 3) (23 page)

Steel stood up from his perch on the desk that was positioned opposite a wall with a large monitor. He handed Sam a thermos mug, which closely resembled the one that had been incinerated in her car.

She smiled as she took the mug that was filled with fresh coffee. “Wow, thanks, Steel,” she told him. “Now all you have to do is replace my car.”

The Englishman smiled awkwardly and pointed to the screen. “Yes. Umm, traffic sent over the footage from the crash. We were hoping to get an idea what had happened.”

McCall sat in the spot on the desk that Steel had just warmed and smiled enthusiastically, hoping for a break in the case.

“Man, I don’t know why we couldn’t do this in your office,” Tooms said.

The tech turned to face Steel, saying, “You have an office?” She sounded intrigued.

Steel pointed back at the monitor as if he was trying to change the subject.

As McCall turned away, Steel threw a paper ball at Tooms’s head, which bounced off and fell into the trash, causing the other man to give him ‘the bird’, with a good-natured smile.

“So did we get anything?” McCall asked. Her eyes met everyone else’s. All of them had the same kind of confused expression.

“Uhm... just watch,” Tooms said, nodding to the young woman who began the footage on the big screen from the start of the scene. They watched as the delivery truck pulled up, then suddenly the cameras began to move away from the crash site. Moments later the cameras moved back in time to see the three men running from the area.

“What the hell was that?” McCall asked, now every bit as confused as the others.

“Could the cameras be moved remotely?” Steel asked. “Or would they have to be repositioned by someone who was at the source?”

The others didn’t like where Steel was going with this line of reasoning.

“Hey, man, that’s other cops you’re talkin’ about, man!” Tooms said indignantly. “No way would anyone interfere like that.”

The tech shook her head as she went through the footage. They had been given material from all the cameras on that junction, and all of them moved at the same time.

“I don’t know,” the attractive tech answered. “If it was done at the routers then there should be some signs of tampering, but to get them all to move the same time, that wouldn’t be easy.”

Tony closed his notebook and stood up from his seated position. “I’ll go check out the cameras and the systems room, see if it can only be done from there.”

Tooms watched his partner disappear towards the elevator.

“Whoever did this is making us chase our tails again,” McCall said grimly. “They want us to waste time looking for crooked cops.”

McCall’s theory was founded more on hope that she was right than it was on hard facts. The thought that cops might be part of this whole thing made her stomach turn. “Go back to when the truck arrives, please.”

The tech smiled at Steel with wide sparkling eyes, and as he smiled back the tech blushed before resuming what she’d been doing.

“Okay, so watch this,” Steel told them. “Our delivery guy comes in and parks.”

Everyone looked him strangely, as though he had two heads.

“What?” Tooms asked, hardly able to wait for the rest of the crazy theory.

“The truck driver parked,” Steel persevered. “Don’t you get it?”

McCall felt like going for her gun just to end his lunatic rant. Steel stood there hoping for some sort of breakthrough in their thinking.

“Don’t you get it?” he went on, desperate to make them see his point. “He parked the truck.” John was beginning to feel that no one was prepared to share his theory.

McCall and Tooms rolled their eyes, hoping he would stop talking in riddles.

“Yes, you said that already, lots of times,” Tooms answered. “So he parked his friggin’ truck, so what?”

Steel shook his head in disbelief. “Delivery guys don’t park, they abandon their vehicle any old how, but just watch: this guy he parks and I mean
parks
. If you look carefully you’ll see that he manoeuvres until he is in the perfect spot, and then he doesn’t get out until the cameras move.” Steel looked at the still of the truck’s box body once again. “Where are all the other cars? The street is empty apart from that truck. Why?”

Tooms shrugged whilst wearing an uninterested look. “Who knows, man? Maybe they cleared the street for a movie shoot, they do it all the time.”

The English detective wasn’t convinced: to him, the whole thing seemed too ‘staged’.

“So let’s get this straight,” Tooms bit back. “You are saying that the delivery man staged this whole thing, including getting his van smashed up. Really?” Tooms was angry, Steel’s crazy theory had worn down his patience.

“So why don’t we ask him what he was doing there and did he see anything?” Tooms went on. He looked over the report then his eyes rose over the page and he looked worried. “I get it. The driver. He never came forward. He’s in the wind.”

Steel smiled victoriously.

“So the escapees had someone on the outside putting this whole thing together,” Sam McCall took up the idea. “Someone with enough influence to make it all happen...” She stood looking at the board as she started to theorise.

“Yes, but who?” Tooms asked as he sat on the edge of the desk.

*

Captain Alan Brant slammed down the handset of his phone back onto its cradle. He leant back in his chair with a look of exhaustion on his face. A sudden knock on the door made him look over to see McCall and Steel standing in the doorway.

“Is everything alright, sir?” asked McCall, slightly worried about how her boss and good friend was looking.

“It’s this new chief of detectives,” Brant answered angrily. “The man is phoning me up every hour for updates on this damn case, as if we haven’t got other crimes to solve!” Brant took a hip flask from his top drawer and took a small hit from it.

“So what’s he like, this new chief?” Steel asked, hoping not to pop the already throbbing vein in Brant’s forehead.

“He’s some hotshot who made his way up getting lucky cases and kissing ass. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if he was groomed for the position.” Brant laughed bitterly at the very thought of it.

“So what have we got, just in case that pain in the ass phones back?” Brant asked.

McCall smiled before telling the captain everything they had found: the video footage, the cameras and the driver of the van.

Brant made notes as she spoke just so he had it all down—it seemed as if the voice of the new chief was irritating enough to make you forget your own name, let alone what you were about to say.

“We know that something happened ten years ago that ties this all together,” McCall told him. “We just have to find out what it was.”

Brant nodded, happy that at least he had something new to throw to the Chief to keep him happy.

“So what’s your first move?” Brant glanced over to the two detectives, who were now looking at each other, each echoing the other’s expression.

“We need to go over the escapees’ cases again,” Steel said. “There is something we are not seeing.”

McCall had to agree with him, but right now she needed coffee and some fresh air.

Judge Mathews had gone
about her normal day-to-day routine: going to the courthouse, meeting with other judges and similarly influential, high powered people for coffee in the breaks she could fit into her day.

She was grooming herself for becoming Chief Justice. She had her eye on greater things and so did other people. Years ago she had sold her soul to the devil to get a foot up and it had worked. But like all shameful deals, there was a price to pay.

The success of her career had been fast. Influential people wanted her in place to make sure things were either ‘done’ or ‘forgotten about’.

Not far behind, Megan Armstrong followed in the shadows, the younger woman always on the hunt for her quarry. The judge had gone to her favourite restaurant to meet with her politician friends, which suited Megan as she could watch her whilst sitting in the deli across the road.

Megan sat at the window seat and kept a watchful eye on the judge as she laughed and pasted on her ‘career smile’. Megan stirred her coffee slowly, the images of her ‘Angel in Black’ shutting the door on her before the fire fight burnt into her mind. Who was he and why was he protecting her, she wondered? She took the business card from her pocket. On it was the address of a local priest.

Then she realised what her saviour had meant by telling her that she would be safe: sanctuary. Looking up, she saw the judge was now alone, and her conversation with the men had ended. So why was she still there, the young woman wondered? Megan watched carefully as the judge appeared to become impatient and nervous.

Megan watched curiously as the judge checked the time on her watch repeatedly: something she had done at least twelve times in the last half hour. Megan looked at her own watch and noticed that it was nearly half-twelve. For the past couple of days she had always met the mysterious man here at half-twelve, but not today. Something was wrong.

Judge Mathews got up and left, her face full of concern, but concern about what? As Megan got up to follow her, she noticed a town car pull up and the judge quickly got into it.

Admittedly it was a fair walk to the courthouse, but that never bothered the judge before. Something had changed, changed so much that Judge Mathews was afraid of going out alone in public.

Had the judge been tipped off about Megan tailing her? Megan didn’t have time to think about the possibilities, she had something to do.

She had a date with the judge and it was time for payback.

*

The courthouse steps were filled with law students, all of whom were gathering to go in to observe an actual court case. Megan smiled at her good fortune: she was the right age as the students, and was dressed as badly as they were, she would fit in nicely.

All she had to do was get past security and head for the judge’s chambers to wait for her. The law students’ teacher stood on the top row of steps and called all her students to her inside, and the haggle of noisy teenagers gathered in a line, like sheep getting ready for a dipping.

The inside of the courthouse was a grand old building with high ceilings and carved pillars. Lawyers stood in groups discussing their golf swing averages, while other people made their way to the various courtrooms to go about their legal business.

It was a hive of activity, a virtual mass of bodies, rushing from place to place or gathering in waiting groups. Megan smiled as she got through the masses as she headed off to the judge’s chambers. She knew there was some time before they would be called to sit down prior to the case starting, so she had time to leave her message for the judge.

The courtroom began to fill up just as Megan made it back to the group after delivering her message. She still needed them as cover in order to get out of the courthouse, as she couldn’t risk being caught on camera. As she took her seat in the upper gallery Megan couldn’t help but wonder which courtroom Mathews would be in. She hadn’t had time to check—hell, she even had trouble finding the judge’s chambers.

Luckily she had got in and out without being seen. Megan sat and looked round at the other kids, who seemed to pay her no mind, as though she had always been with them.

A large muscular bailiff with short hair walked up to the bench and took a deep breath before announcing the judge:

“All rise for the Right Honourable Judge Mathews.”

Megan smiled broadly as the judge walked through, carrying a glass of water. Megan’s eyes locked onto the glass as she re-took her seat. Now she had got a better look at the judge, but she wondered about the message she had left and when Judge Mathews was going to receive it.

Inside the courtroom the temperature was boiling. The midday sun beamed through the windows, however the room itself was like an oven.

People adjusted their dress, and men took off their jackets while the women fanned themselves with whatever they could find in their purses. The case Judge Mathews was presiding over was that of a man accused of stabbing his wife to death after an argument—a case that Megan found fitting.

As the proceedings went on, mouths became dry and clothing became soaked with perspiration. Mathews wiped her brow for what seemed like the seventh time.

But it would be the last time.

“Bailiff, could you get an officer to go to maintenance and find out why the heating is on so high?” the judge asked.

The large man nodded and headed towards the door—clearly glad to get some fresh air, if only for a temporary respite.

“Go on, counsellor,” she said, beckoning towards the defence lawyer, who was a tall thin man with black side-parted hair, wearing a grey Armani suit.

The man thanked the judge and continued his argument. As he spun his sales pitch to the jury the bailiff returned and took his place by the door to the judge’s chambers.

Then the lawyer spoke clearly, using easy words and a calming tone, and his manner hypnotised the jury as if he was a cobra in front of a group of mice.

Mathews looked down at the glass of water. The cool liquid looked refreshing good, and her hand went to reach for it. Her dry lips could almost feel the liquid upon them.

“But I say to you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury—” The lawyer was virtually yelling, and it almost made Mathews and the others jump out of their skins. Judge Mathews glared at the man’s back as he faced the jury.

Her hand stayed close to the glass but not far enough to have knocked it over. She licked her lips and as she reached for the water something caught her eye.

One of the jurors—a large, heavily built man with thinning hair—began to gasp for air and rip at his already open collar. He fell to the ground, mouth open, his head pale, face covered with sweat. Everyone rushed to his aid but ended up crowding him.

“Can everyone get back and give him some room, please go back to your seats!” the bailiff called out over the din of the jury, as they moved back to their places.