The Price of Failure (21 page)

At the final briefing, the ACC made a point of reminding all present that no matter how appalling had been the cruelty of the mob, only the minimum of force was to be used.

For once, a plan worked without a single glitch. As the two teams of policemen arrived at the house, the four SAS men abseiled from the helicopter to land on the small ledge at the edge of the roof. With the agility of monkeys, they smashed their way through a dormer window, raced across the small, dust-laden room and out into the corridor.

They carried very high-powered torches and in the beams of these they saw a man in an armchair, clearly just awakened and trying to make sense of what was happening. As they came forward, they blinded him with the light. The lieutenant had a four-year-old daughter. ‘No violence!' he shouted, as he kicked the man off the chair and on to the floor with sufficient force to fracture a shin bone. The sergeant had a two-year-old daughter. ‘You heard!' he shouted, as he pulled the man up by his hair, then kneed him violently in the groin. Neither of the other two had children, but that didn't stop them adding their comments.

There was a key in the lock of the door by the chair. The lieutenant turned it and opened the door. On the bed lay a young, terrified woman.

‘It's all right,' the lieutenant said. ‘You're safe.'

For several seconds she dare not hope that this was for real. When she accepted that it was, largely because of the grins of unalloyed pleasure of the four, she burst into tears of relief.

*   *   *

Wyatt cursed himself for a coward. He knew what he should do, yet hesitated to do it.

But was it really that straightforward? Where was the proof? The significance of the facts which had led him to the conclusion that Mike was a traitor had been neutralized by the DI's claim of cooperation from the beginning. Without proof, it would be his word against theirs. Superior rank carried superior clout. Yet justice would be in poor shape if it were never pursued when there could be doubt; idealism would be castrated if no man was prepared to face heavy odds to do what he considered to be right …

What were the odds? Had the story of the PC who'd been kicked out of the force for making allegations against his superior that could not be proved been mere fiction? Wasn't it very much more reasonable to believe that a disciplinary hearing would have administered a severe reprimand? Yet he couldn't be certain. And it might be that for a detective sergeant to make so serious an unproven allegation against his detective inspector undermined discipline to such an extent that it would be held that dismissal from the force was the only suitable punishment. And if he were sacked? Immediate loss of income and possible future loss of pension. The mortgage on the house had several years to go and without a police pension he would be unable to meet the monthly repayments. Social security might meet them for a while, but not forever; and if the present political atmosphere was any guide, perhaps soon not at all. If the house were repossessed, Freda would be devastated. Only the death of one of her children could cause her greater emotional pain …

There were men brave enough – selfish enough? – to put their own and their loved ones' future in jeopardy in pursuit of truth and justice, but he was discovering that he was not one of them.

*   *   *

Jameson had a blunt, often loud manner, which tended to hide the fact that he was sharply intelligent. In shirt and braces – the heating was always unnecessarily high at county HQ – he rested his elbows on the desk. Eyes slightly hooded by fleshy eyebrows, he studied Hoskin, who had not been asked to sit. ‘I've called you here because Trent has suggested he's open to a deal for pleading guilty; claimed that he could offer us some information that we'd find interesting if we agreed.'

‘An admission in the Arkwright case?' Hoskin asked.

He ignored the question. ‘We told him, no deal. In the end, he gave us the information anyway. He claims he photographed Carr screwing a high-class tart and used the photos to blackmail him into feeding information.'

‘Which is what I reported to you.'

‘His dates don't agree with yours.'

‘Then his are wrong.'

‘He says he started blacking Carr long before you claim Carr reported what was happening.'

‘Anything to cause trouble.'

‘Where's the woman?'

‘She's disappeared.'

‘Have you tried to find her?'

‘Yes, without success. The only lead we've unearthed says she's gone abroad; there's no indication where.'

‘Trent will talk in court how he was blackmailing Carr long before you knew anything.'

‘If prosecuting counsel is out of knee-length shorts, he'll make Trent look the liar he is.'

‘There's something else.'

‘Which is?'

‘Trent swears he paid three thousand in cash to Carr for information received. If Carr was working to your orders, he should have passed that on to you. You've given me no record that he did.'

‘Because the three thousand is another figment of Trent's revengeful imagination.'

‘Perhaps Carr received it, but didn't pass it on to you?'

‘If he'd ever received a penny, he'd have passed it on.'

‘You can't be certain.'

‘I know my man. The only evidence of any extra spending on Carr's part is that in the last weeks of his wife's pregnancy, he moved her to a nursing home. The total bill there came to roughly two thousand five hundred. He told me he borrowed the money from his mother and when I had a word with her, she confirmed this.'

‘I see.'

There was a silence. ‘Is that all?' Hoskin asked.

‘Yes.'

‘There's not to be any apology?'

‘For what?'

‘For obviously having doubts about my DC's and my honesty just because of what a murdering bastard claims.'

‘All such allegations have to be examined.'

‘But not with such relish.'

‘That's enough.'

Hoskin left. As the door closed, Jameson opened the top right drawer of the desk and brought out a packet of cheroots. Goddamnit, why couldn't he accept what he'd been told? Why did he have to question, when to do so must cause dangerous trouble? He'd not be further promoted before he retired, so he'd nothing to gain. Nothing, that was, except the knowledge that he'd retired knowing he had always pursued the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

*   *   *

Timothy had been fed and was asleep in the nursery. Carr and Gloria faced each other in the sitting room. ‘Would you…?' She plucked at the belt of her dress. ‘Would you have told me if you hadn't been forced to because it'll come out in court?'

He said miserably: ‘I wish I could honestly say yes, but…'

‘But probably you wouldn't have done?'

‘I knew how much it would hurt you.'

‘But you didn't seem to know that when you were with her.'

‘I wish I could explain. I can't. All I can say is, if she hadn't made all the running … But that's no excuse.'

They became silent.

‘Mike. If they hadn't used that woman to blackmail you into helping them, would you ever have been able to work out where they were holding Angelique Lumley?'

‘No.'

‘And she would have suffered as horribly as Victoria Arkwright?'

‘And probably have been murdered.'

‘So she was saved because you … you went with that woman?'

‘I suppose you could look at it like that.'

‘Then that's how I will look at it. Makes my hurt so very less important.'

When he'd married her, he thought with deep humility, he'd been the luckiest of men.

*   *   *

The chief constable's suite, furnished in London clubland style, was on the seventh floor and consisted of an outer office, a much larger inner office, a seldom used bedroom, and a bathroom.

The CC's secretary, known as Frosty for reasons that were obvious if one accepted that thin lips were indicative of character, ushered Jameson into the inner office. The chief constable, who'd been standing out on the small balcony guarded by wrought-iron railings, stepped back into the room. ‘'Morning.' He was a handsome man in his mid fifties, adept at saying and doing the right thing at the right time.

‘Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but I…'

The chief constable interrupted him without any apology. ‘I've just had a phone call. A very unexpected one.'

‘Really, sir?' The chief constable's manner was so ebullient, and therefore out of character, that Jameson wondered if he had been drinking.

‘It was to inform me…' He crossed to his desk and sat. He rested his elbows on the desk and stared into the distance. ‘It was to inform me,' he said, speaking slowly and with emphasis, ‘that the Royals are extremely grateful to me for having rescued Miss Lumley unharmed. They offer me their sincere congratulations. In addition, and as a mark of their gratitude, they propose to award me a knighthood. As I said, that will honour the whole county force, not just me.'

Bloody hypocrite, Jameson thought sourly. The other's wife must be in her seventh heaven. She was such a dedicated snob that probably she was already rehearsing how to react when the rank and file bowed and curtsied to her.

The chief constable coughed.

Jameson pulled himself together. ‘Congratulations, sir.'

‘Thank you. But, of course, we must not waste any more time on nonessentials. You wanted a word?'

‘Yes, sir. Trent has made certain accusations against a member of the force.'

‘Regretfully, to be expected.'

‘I decided it was necessary to discuss these accusations in some detail with Inspector Hoskin.'

‘And now they can be dismissed?'

‘Not quite.'

‘Why not?'

‘There are a couple of points which do raise questions.'

‘What are they?'

‘I've compared the dates which Inspector Hoskin has given me with those which Trent has provided. They don't match. Trent claims to have started to blackmail Carr some time before Inspector Hoskin says Carr first came to him to report. Trent further claims –'

‘What does Hoskin say?'

‘He is certain his dates are correct.'

‘Which is what one would expect when a detective inspector is logging events. I'm surprised you feel it worthwhile raising the point.'

‘I wouldn't have done if there weren't something more. Trent further claims he sent Carr three thousand pounds in the post as payment. Inspector Hoskin states that Carr has never made any reference to this money.'

‘Which makes it clear that the money is a figment of Trent's malign imagination.'

‘But Inspector Hoskin told me that he had checked for any unusual expenditure. He found that Carr had moved his wife from hospital into a nursing home and the bill was roughly two thousand five hundred. Carr's explanation as to how he could afford that was that his mother had lent him the money; the mother confirmed the fact.'

‘Which surely puts an end to that?'

‘But if Carr had been working with Inspector Hoskin from the beginning, why would Hoskin have been looking for unaccounted spending on Carr's part before Trent's accusation was made? Obviously, there are two possible answers. This check was an insurance; covering the possibility that the allegation would be made in court as an attempt at revenge. Secondly, that when Hoskin checked, he had reason to be suspicious in which case, of course, Carr had not reported to him and they were not working together, even though Carr had started to cooperate with the mob.

‘Obviously, we must ascertain which is the correct answer. I suggest the easiest way of doing that is to examine the financial affairs of Mrs Carr and determine if there is any trace of the three thousand pounds she claims to have lent him.'

The chief constable stared into the distance for a long time. Then he said: ‘If one were to carry out such a search, it would be emotionally very painful for Mrs Carr, not only because it would be calling her a liar, but also because it would show that we are considering the possibility of her son being a criminal.'

‘Our work often causes pain.'

‘Tell me something. Does the answer to these questions have any bearing on the case against Trent and his accomplices?'

‘It cannot affect the verdict, no, sir.'

‘Then what would be gained by pursuing the matter?'

Jameson showed his surprise. ‘If Carr was blackmailed into becoming a traitor and Hoskin uncovered this fact, but did not report it…'

‘There are times, Mark, when it is kinder to some to take a pragmatic approach and let arcane possibilities lie fallow. I think this is one such time.'

‘Are you saying we shouldn't check out Mrs Carr's financial affairs, despite the possibility that…'

‘I think so.'

Jameson waited for an explanation. There was none.

‘Thank you,' said the chief constable.

It was only when Jameson was in the lift that he overcame his bewilderment sufficiently to understand. If it were proved that Carr had been blackmailed into cooperating with the mob and that Hoskin had discovered this fact but far from reporting it, as was his duty, had with calculated design hidden it, then the resulting story, in a case that had already gained intense publicity, would feed the media's headlines for days on end. A knighthood could hardly be awarded to the chief constable to honour a force that was shown to be so corrupted. Deprived of her ‘Lady', his wife would be a very bitter woman indeed …

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

THE BITTER BITE

JUDGMENT DEFERRED

TWISTED JUSTICE

DEADLY REUNION

AN ILLEGAL SOLUTION

THE HONOURABLE DETECTIVE