The Judgement Book (29 page)

Still the detectives slowly swept through the mass. A young man whom Dan thought he recognised had just edged past the press pack, subtly checking them over. He was making his way along the edge of the roundabout, sipping at a can of drink, smiling at a couple of families gathered there.

Less than two hours until the Book was released. And so far, no hint of anything suspicious. His great plan was starting to feel very hollow.

Dan wondered what he would do tomorrow, the first day of unemployment he’d ever known in his life.

‘You’d better give Lizzie a call,’ Nigel said. ‘She was keeping the Outside Broadcast truck on standby in case we needed it.’

Dan picked up his phone. He was about to ring the newsroom when a distraction nudged at him. Someone was talking to El and the photographer was trying to reach into his back pocket, while keeping his lens trained on the plaque. He handed a small rectangle of white paper to the person, who walked away and sat back down on the grass verge.

It was a woman: Dan could see a tail of bunched dark hair under the back of her baseball cap. She wore black shades, but Dan thought there was something familiar about her. Someone he’d interviewed, or vaguely knew? He tried, but couldn’t bring the memory home.

The technicians were still checking the edges of the plaque. They couldn’t stall for much longer. Any minute now they would have to remove it from the wall. The charade was nearing its end. The crowd would disperse, there would be no Judgement Book, no hope left of catching the blackmailer. It would all be over. The final gamble lost.

An instinct tingled, but Dan had no idea what it could mean. He looked over at El. He couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just petty curiosity. Few women spoke to the paparazzo.

Dan put his phone back into his pocket and walked down the grassy slope to see his friend. He picked his path through the crowd and kept his eyes away from the woman. He wasn’t sure why, he just felt he should. The feeling wasn’t letting go.

He offered the photographer his bottle of water. El put out a hand, took it, sipped gratefully, then handed it back, never letting his lens waver from the technicians.

Dan leaned over so he could whisper into El’s ear. ‘What did that woman want?’

‘To buy a snap,’ El replied quietly. ‘She wanted one of my pictures of the cops unscrewing the plaque. Big one, full colour, said she needed much better quality than you’ll get in the papers. I gave her my card and told her to call me tomorrow.’

It was an effort not to turn and stare at her. Dan thanked El, made a vague arrangement to go out for a few beers at the weekend and walked as nonchalantly as he could back up to Nigel.

Now the instinct was shouting.

‘I’m going to ring the newsroom,’ Dan said, walking further up the slope, away from the crowd, right to the edge of the roundabout.

He struggled to find the number in the phone’s memory, so badly was he trembling. He called Adam and kept his eyes fixed on the church as the detective picked his phone from his pocket.

‘I think I’ve got her,’ Dan said breathlessly. He didn’t have time to wonder about what he’d said, it just came out.

‘What?’ snapped Adam. ‘Her? What are you on about? The other Worm you mean?’

‘Yes. I think it’s a woman and I think I’ve got her.’

Adam turned and looked over at the crowd surrounding the church.

‘Where are you?’

‘See the line of TV cameras, at the top of the bank?’

‘Yep.’

‘Up from them, and towards the police station.’

Adam’s eyes travelled up the slope.

‘Got you. Why do you think it’s her?’

Dan explained about the photo. His voice was thin and wavering.

‘Blimey, it’s scarcely conclusive,’ the detective said finally.

‘Have we got anything else?’

‘No.’

‘Any hint of anyone who might be the other blackmailer?’

‘No.’

‘How much longer can you eke this out for?’

‘Not long.’

There was a pause. ‘Then I reckon it’s our best shot,’ said Dan finally.

‘OK,’ replied Adam. ‘We haven’t got anything left to lose. If I humiliate myself by arresting an innocent spectator in front of the world’s media, it’ll hardly matter when the Judgement Book’s released. Where is she?’

‘Down the slope and to my right, next to the fat bloke in the Union Jack T-shirt, but don’t look.’

Adam snorted. ‘Thanks, mate. I had thought of that. OK, go stand somewhere behind her, but not too close. In a couple of minutes I’ll make as though I’m taking another call. I’ll walk out of the church and back towards the police station. When I get near, you move in on her from the back so I know I’ve got the right one and I’ll arrest her.’

Dan felt his heart begin racing. A memory of their pursuit of the joyrider hit him. He swallowed hard, could say only, ‘OK’.

He slid back over to Nigel, whispered to be ready to film some activity on the grass in front of him. The cameraman raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. Dan watched and waited, his eyes set on the church, counting off the seconds. They crawled by, one limping after another.

Eventually Adam put his mobile to his ear, then turned and walked out from the church’s gate and climbed the stone steps.

Dan slipped slowly over to behind the woman and edged towards her. She was sitting, her arms folded around her legs on the grass, watching the technicians intently.

He couldn’t help himself wondering what the hell he was doing. Could she really be the blackmailer? The evidence he had consisted solely of her wanting a photo of what was going on. She might be a relative of one of the technicians, a freelance journalist, a local historian. She could have a thousand reasons for wanting a picture. And they were about to arrest her in front of a crowd of hundreds of people. If they were lucky, she’d only make a formal complaint. Worse, she could sue for defamation and wrongful arrest.

But there was no way back. It was all they had, one thin, vague chance based on guesses, hopes and a hunch, nothing more. The longer he thought about it, the more ludicrous it sounded.

Adam was near to the woman, still looking ahead as he walked, pretending to talk into the phone. There was no hint he was interested in her. He moved on, was even closer now.

Her head snapped towards him. She appeared to flinch, stiffen, glanced quickly to her sides, started to scramble to her feet.

Dan felt a sudden flare of excitement, a hot rush of wonderful hope. He could see she was alarmed, looking for a way out. And she could easily get away and escape into the crowd. They might yet lose her, still fail when they could be so very close to success.

He had to stop her.

There was a family in front of him, a couple of young men, one older, a woman holding the hand of a small girl. They stood tightly together, formed a barrier in his path. He didn’t have time for politeness, had to move. He aimed for the young men, shouldered them out of the way, ignored the angry cries, rushed forwards.

She was just ahead now. But he was still too far away, the gap too great to reach out and grab her. And she was moving, turning, getting ready to run into the crowd. He had to do something.

Dan lunged forwards, gathered his breath and bellowed, ‘Oi, blackmailer!’

She spun, startled. The hesitation was just enough. Adam sprang, reached out, clutched at her, scrabbled a firm grip on her arm. The woman struggled and tried to pull away but he held her tight. She went to hit out at him, but Adam ducked the swipe, pivoted and pinned her arms together.

She swung a leg and he pushed her away. She fell back onto the grass, gasping, winded, panting desperately, her chest heaving. Her sunglasses slid slowly from her face and dropped. The woman glared at Adam, breathing heavily, her eyes wide with shock and venom.

‘Jesus,’ Dan heard Adam gasp. ‘I don’t believe it.’

The woman lying on the grass, staring up at them was Inspector Linda Cott.

Chapter
Twenty-six

D
AN GOT BACK TO
the studios at five to six and ran panting into the newsroom. He felt dizzy with the exertion and disbelief that the plan had worked. He hardly dared to hope he and Adam were safe from professional ruin and media ridicule. That at last it was the end of the blackmailers’ game, and that they would finally now find the Judgement Book.

Claire was with him too, invisible but everywhere he looked. She prowled around the edge of his consciousness, always just out of sight, a dark, stalking figure.

Lizzie’s eyes were on the newsroom door. She sprung up as soon as she saw him and barked, ‘Where the hell have you been? We’ve been trying to call you. What’s going on?’

Dan fished his mobile from his pocket. He’d forgotten he switched it to silent just before they closed in on the blackmailer. Seven missed calls. No wonder she looked thunderous. Lizzie’s hands were fixed on her hips. She wore a scarlet shirt, making her arms form two perfect warning triangles and her lips were even thinner than usual.

‘Really sorry, it’s been so busy I didn’t have a chance to talk,’ he gasped. ‘Got some great stuff for you though.’

Her expression eased, just a little and a hand lifted to point a sharpened nail between his eyes. ‘You’ve got pictures of the Judgement Book?’

‘No,’ he managed, trying to catch his breath.

A stiletto ground into the carpet.

‘What then?’ she asked ominously.

‘I’ve got pictures of the arrest of the other blackmailer. There were two, and the cops have now got them both. It shouldn’t be long before they get the book too.’

The stiletto stopped grinding.

‘Lead story, you live in the studio, pictures of what happened for you to talk about,’ she snapped. ‘Go on then, get to it, what are you waiting for?’

Dan sat with Jenny and they cut a sequence of shots. A little build up to add drama first, he thought. That was an important part of the story, the anticipation of the crowd, no one knowing how the afternoon would unfold. Adam and the technicians inside the church, a couple of images of the police officers watchfully on guard. Then pick up the pace, the plaque being unscrewed, people looking on keenly and then to the arrest. Dan jotted down a few notes of what he’d say and checked them against the pictures. He had to complement them, explain what the viewers were seeing.

6.20, just under ten minutes to on air. He’d better get down to the studio and prepare. It always took a few minutes to settle, and for the engineers to check the camera and lighting positions. He couldn’t afford to get this story wrong.

The dizziness was still swirling in his head and his mouth felt dry. Dan gulped down a glass of water and nearly choked. A camera swung onto him and lights flared and died in the metal lattice of rigging above his head.

6.27 now.

‘What questions do you want?’ asked Craig calmly.

‘What happened today is the first one, and what does it mean for the investigation is the second.’

Dan scribbled a couple more notes, changed a few words and switched the order of a sentence, then read it through again. The rough script seemed to make sense. The opening music of Wessex Tonight boomed out across the studio and Craig drew himself up in his chair.

‘First tonight, more extraordinary developments in the blackmailer case,’ he intoned. ‘An arrest in front of hundreds of people, as the police searched an area in the centre of Plymouth where they believe the Judgement Book had been hidden. Our Crime Correspondent Dan Groves is with us. Dan, you were there, tell us what happened.’

Dan took a final look at his notes. ‘Craig, as you said, I witnessed the whole thing and it was a quite extraordinary afternoon. The police had received information leading them to believe the Judgement Book was hidden behind a plaque in the ruin of Charles Church.’

He looked down at the monitor screens. Emma had taken her cue and run the pictures of the church, the people watching and the technicians.

‘Forensics officers began checking this plaque, and as you can see, as it’s such a prominent area hundreds of people came to watch. Well, for an hour or so, the police didn’t make much progress. They just worked slowly at the plaque, unscrewing it from the wall. They were probably taking it gently so as not to destroy any possible forensic evidence. Then came the remarkable twist, and here we can bring you exclusive pictures of it.’

Dan paused for a couple of seconds to let the pictures breathe and the drama of his words settle on the viewers. Only amateurs babbled on when the images were so striking they required no words of embroidery.

‘The man in charge of the investigation, Detective Chief Inspector Adam Breen, walked out of the church and into the crowd. All appeared absolutely normal when, suddenly, he grabbed a woman who’d been watching and arrested her. I can now reveal the woman is suspected by the police of being the second blackmailer. Detectives think two people working together produced the Judgement Book.’

Craig nodded gravely, asked. ‘So, what’s the significance of this arrest for the investigation?’

‘It could be highly significant. First, it should mean there’ll be no more blackmail demands on prominent people in the area, which will come as an enormous relief to many. Secondly, it should help the police find this Judgement Book in which all the secrets are said to be recorded. In effect, the arrest could signal the end of the case.’

At the after-programme meeting, Lizzie professed herself “contented” with the story to such an extent that she would buy everyone one drink in the studios’ bar. She emphasised the “one”. The taste of those earlier beers was still with him and Dan would have loved a drink, several in fact, but he’d promised Adam he would return to Charles Cross as soon as Wessex Tonight finished. The detective wanted to start questioning Linda Cott.

Lizzie didn’t offer to buy drinks very often and he didn’t want to miss out, so Dan picked up a tin of ale on her account and slipped it into his bag for later. His mind wandered to Claire. It brought an ache to the back of his eyes, so again he blocked the thought. It wouldn’t be long before he had to face it, but not yet. Instead he looked for a distraction. He thought of Cott and wondered what turned her into a blackmailer. He imagined a Dartmoor walk with Rutherford and a few beers with El at the weekend and tried not to think that was exactly how he used to fill his time before he’d met Claire.

The interview room looked as unwelcoming as always, except the flickering fluorescent tube had finally been replaced. It had much the same cheering effect as someone adding a coat of paint to a crypt. A steady green glow now tinted the chairs and table and the two people sitting there. Dan stood in his customary position by the door.

‘Why, Linda?’ Adam asked quietly. ‘It’s as simple as that. Why?’

Cott sat up on her chair, her arms folded on the table in front of her. She stared straight ahead and Dan couldn’t read her expression. She wasn’t quite there, as if she was taking solace in a mental refuge. She answered Adam’s questions impatiently, as if they were annoying distractions that had to be dealt with in the hope they would soon go away.

‘I’m not saying anything. If you want to charge me, go ahead. But Sarah will already have told you we don’t intend to answer any questions.’

‘You don’t know what Sarah has told us.’

‘Don’t bother trying that one. I’m a cop too, remember. Or I was. I know about playing people off against each other. I have a statement for you, but that’s it.’

Adam rubbed his neck and stared at her. She looked back, quite still and unblinking.

‘Give us your statement then, Linda,’ said Adam wearily. ‘And we’ll take it from there.’

Dan half expected her to take out a piece of paper, but she began talking as if it were a verse she’d been taught as a child, something so familiar it flowed without thought.

‘When I began my career as a police officer, I really believed in it. I wanted to make a difference. But as the years went by, I started to realise I was lonely in that aspiration. Many of my fellow officers just wanted to do as little as possible, serve their time, then pick up a fat pension. Others were actively corrupt and abused their positions. My efforts to bring this to the attention of my senior officers were ignored or rebuffed, so I sought another way to let people know what was going on. Those are my reasons behind the creation of the Judgement Book.

‘No one suffered our attentions who did not deserve them. Our methods may seem extreme, but we were forced to adopt them. They were the only way to win attention in an uncaring world. All we have sought to do is for the public good. We are different. We try to be better. We are fair. To emphasise that, as you know we have agreed we will give you one final chance to find the Judgement Book. As we have said, to do so you must follow your initial thoughts. They would be dead right. That is all I have to say.’

Adam nodded and slowly scribbled a note on a piece of paper in front of him.

‘How do you know Sarah?’

‘No comment.’

‘Why the faked suicide?’

‘No comment.’

‘How well do you know Superintendent Leon Osmond?’

This time Dan thought he saw a hint of reaction, a quick blink of her eyes, but the reply was the same.

‘No comment.’

Adam sighed heavily. ‘Is there any point in asking you anything else, Linda? I don’t have to tell you that all this is over and you might as well cooperate.’

‘No comment.’

‘Where’s the Judgement Book, Linda?’

‘No comment.’

Adam shook his head sadly, got up from his chair and walked slowly out of the door. They climbed the echoing stairs to the canteen. Dan steeled himself and ordered two coffees. The acrid, wafting smell from the polystyrene cups warned him it was as strong as ever.

They sat at a table in the far corner. To the west the sun was dipping towards the horizon, a flaming orb in a dying blue sky. Claire picked at his mind again, memories of their early days together and evening walks on the Devon coastline.

How far gone were those days now.

‘It’s pointless,’ said Adam. ‘She was a cop. She knows all the tricks I can use. We’re not going to get a thing out of her.’

‘At least they can’t reveal the book to the media now,’ replied Dan. ‘Come on, we have made some progress. We’ve got them both.’ He looked over his shoulder, checking to make sure no one could overhear. ‘We’re safe, as is anyone else who might have been … compromised.’

‘For now, maybe’ Adam replied, loosening his tie and sliding it down his neck. ‘I don’t know about you, but I still feel it’s like a death sentence hanging over me. It could be carried out at any time. We’ve got to find the Judgement Book before someone else does. The case isn’t closed and we’re not safe without it.’

‘You really think so?’

‘How do we know they don’t have another accomplice out there who can release the Book? How do we know Linda hasn’t sent a letter to some newspaper or journalists saying where to find it? They might have set up a computer program to tell a load of hacks. There are hundreds of ways to release it.’

Dan grimaced. ‘But surely …’

‘Surely what? They’re smart and embittered. And they’ve planned this damned well. I wouldn’t put anything past them.’

Adam leaned forwards, lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Let’s take the best case. Even if they haven’t arranged to release the Book now, what about when they get out of prison? Off they go, pick it up and then tell the world what’s in it. Or someone could find it first. Until we’ve got that Book, I won’t relax. Every day I’ll expect the phone to go and it’ll be some journalist asking if I’ve got any comment on the allegations in it. I don’t know about you, but I can’t live like that.’

There was a silence. Dan sipped at his coffee and recoiled. ‘Yeah,’ he said finally. ‘You’re right. So what do we do?’

‘No bloody idea. I have had a guts full of this case. It’s haunting me. And it looks like it’s going to go on doing so. For weeks, months and bloody years until the Book’s finally released and we’re ridiculed, humiliated and finished. Just as we’ve been expecting for so long.’

Another thought of Claire flitted through his mind, and Dan rested his head in his hands, tried to think. But his brain felt slow, lethargic, as if punch-drunk from the relentless pounding of the last few days.

‘Look,’ he managed, ‘They’ve obviously agreed in advance what they’ll both say if they’re caught. The only clue they’ve given us is that stuff about our initial thoughts, and them being dead right. Just like it was written in that note when we found the false book. How they put “DEAD” in capitals to emphasise it. What does that mean?’

Adam shrugged. ‘No idea. It might be nothing, just another taunt. And to tell you the truth I’m sick of their bloody games.’

‘Sure, but it’s got to be worth thinking about. It must be something to do with initials. But initials of what? Is there any point going back over the blackmail notes to see if they contain anything?’

‘Maybe.’ Adam sounded anything except hopeful. ‘But Eleanor and Michael have been through them though, and if there was anything there they’d have found it.’

Dan pushed the coffee aside. It was making his ulcer sting.

‘There is just the one possibility,’ he said. ‘Linda flinched when you mentioned Osmond, and the only time we got anything out of Sarah was when she got angry. We could try winding Linda up.’

‘It’s worth a try,’ nodded Adam. ‘But let’s not mess around. When we talk to her again I’ll go straight for the jugular. If we don’t get anything I’m going to call it a day. I’m tired out.’

Dan felt a sudden fear of the coming night and spending it alone. It was when the thoughts and memories would come. The dark and vulnerable moments. He got up from his chair and wearily followed Adam back down the stairs.

Linda looked up when they walked in to the interview room. She glanced pointedly at her watch.

‘Are you ready to talk now?’ Adam asked abruptly.

‘No comment.’

‘Then do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions? There are some things I’d like to know.’