Then the back doors of the van were opened. He was heaved out and dragged for a few metres, then forced down onto his knees, then onto all fours and then completely onto his front. The ground was cold and hard. Concrete.
Soon, he thought, I will see them. This is their weak time. He was wrong.
A voice said, ‘I am going to remove the bag from your head, do you understand? Because I am a civilised man and we are going to have a conversation. However, when I do this you will look at the ground, your nose will be pressed to the floor and you will keep your eyes closed. Do you understand?
‘ Yes.’
‘ I will hold a double-barrelled shotgun to the back of your neck.’ The voice was male with a Scottish accent and sounded as though it was being reasonable. ‘If you open your eyes and try to look round, or do anything silly or make a sudden move, I’ll pull both triggers and blow your head off your shoulders. There will be nothing left of your head. Do you understand?’
‘ Yes.’
Then August felt the cold barrels of the gun pushed into his neck, just below his hairline. He wanted to be sick. He swallowed something that tasted of vomit.
The hessian sack was yanked off his head and he lay there face down, nose to the ground, shivering with fright. Before he could stop them, his eyes had flickered open for a nanosecond, and he nearly whined in terror. But no one seemed to have noticed. He squeezed them firmly shut, enclosing and sealing the memory of that face…
There was a cough, a clearing of the throat, the shuffle of feet. ‘So, Mr August, what did you think of the video? Good, wasn’t it? Very classy. Make a fortune on the porn market, that.’
‘ What do you want?’ said August tightly. He wasn’t sure how much more he could handle.
‘ Straight to the point,’ said the voice. ‘I like that. All right, we’ll play it your way. There’s something you possess that we want. Knowledge. You’re a Chief Constable. You know many things — and what you don’t know, you can find out.’
‘ I don’t know anything,’ August was almost in tears.
‘ But you do, you do,’ the man assured him.
‘ What?’
‘ A man is presently at court facing murder charges. He will soon be convicted. A man called Hinksman.’
August groaned. ‘So? I can’t stop that.’
‘ I know — and he’ll be convicted. Stupid bastard deserves to be
… However, that doesn’t concern us. He’ll be taken by police escort from Lancaster to another prison, won’t he? Probably Strangeways.’
August did not respond. He waited for the bombshell.
‘ What I want you to do is tell me when the escort will be setting off from Lancaster, how many of them are armed and with what sort of weapons… you know, that sort of thing. But I want you to do something else for me as well.’
‘ What?’ said August, deep in a nightmare.
‘ Ensure that the convoy takes a particular route — one which I will supply to you. There — simple, isn’t it?’
‘ But why?’
The man jabbed the shotgun roughly into the back of August’s neck. ‘Why d’you fuckin’ think?’
Joe Kovaks had made his first visit to Laura at seven-thirty in the morning. He had got home just in time to run Chrissy to the hospital for ten. By the time he hit the sack an hour later he was exhausted, with only four hours to sleep before getting up and collecting Chrissy. He was due back on duty at six, when he planned to ditch Tommo, his partner, and go straight to see Laura and get his plan underway.
He felt excited. Corelli’s time was ticking away.
Laura looked 100 per cent better that evening — in other words, marginally better than a corpse.
Kovaks sat on the stool next to the bed and placed a bag of mixed fresh fruit on the cabinet.
She gave him a weak smile, said ‘Hi,’ then closed her eyes. The brush with death had taken its toll.
‘ We need to get Corelli,’ Kovaks said softly. ‘How many more lives will he destroy?’ He spoke in a low, hypnotic voice. He knew she was susceptible right now. This was the time to strike, to get into her mind and influence her way of thinking. He was being a ruthless bastard and he knew it. ‘Look at what he’s done to you and Whisper. He killed Whisper, not me, Laura. He had him knifed to death and his tongue cut out because he had the courage to talk to me. And then he made you suffer. He’d been making you suffer anyway. Using you as a source of income. Making you use your body and your mouth. How many men did you fuck, Laura? One hundred? Ten thousand? How man men did you suck off? Twenty thousand? He abused you, destroyed you, forced you onto drugs so that you’d be dependent on him for everything — money, junk, somewhere to live. I know you did it for the baby, I know it was the only way. I’m not judging you, honey. All I’m doing is stating facts, Laura… and then what happened? When he’d had enough of you, he kicked you out onto the streets, out of your home. The cunt! Not much of a home, I know but it was your place nevertheless.’
She began to cry softly, eyes closed in shame. Kovaks was bang on target. He couldn’t stop a triumphant grin from spreading across his face. This might be easier than he’d feared.
‘ And you lost everything. The baby. Whisper. Your self-respect.’ He was relentless, driving it home. ‘And you almost lost your life, like he’s deprived thousands of others of theirs. While he lives like a king! He doesn’t do drugs. He’s a fucking billionaire! Owns houses, cars, boats, planes, businesses… all on the back of people’s suffering. We need to do something about him, Laura. We need to stop him. You and me. You and me. If we pool what we know, I’m sure we can do it.’
‘ How?’ she sobbed. ‘We can’t touch him.’
‘ I don’t know,’ said Kovaks. He shook his head. ‘But we can think of something.’
‘ I want my baby back,’ she cried. ‘That’s what I want.’ Her mouth twisted grotesquely as she cried. She buried her head in a pillow. ‘I miss her so much.’
Kovaks laid a hand on her bony shoulder.
‘ It’s OK Laura. You’ve got me now. You can depend on me. I’m an FBI agent, aren’t I? I can pull strings. I can get her back for you. I’m sure I can. Don’t worry, but you must promise to help me. We must get Corelli once and for all. You and me, Laura. You and me.’ His voice was hypnotic.
‘ I need my junk too,’ she said.
‘ That’s OK, I can get you anything you need.’
‘ But how are we going to get him?’
‘ I don’t know yet,’ he said.
But he had a good idea.
A further two weeks of witnesses giving evidence drove the trial into its fifth week. Much of the testimony was presented by experts — scientists, doctors etc. — and the officers who conducted the interviews with Hinksman. It was basically unchallenged by the defence. Graham put up a spirited performance, but he was rowing up Shit Creek with only his hands for paddles.
The last witness stepped down from the box at 3 p.m. on the Friday of the fifth week and the trial was adjourned for the weekend.
On the Monday of the sixth week Graham began his final speech for the defence. It lasted two days — two days in which he tried valiantly to discredit the prosecution evidence. He was very convincing, eloquent and believable — but on the whole he was fighting a lost cause; however, as he was being paid so well and had such a dangerous client, he tried his best.
He did have a good case to rubbish Henry Christie’s evidence, though. Despite the supporting forensic and ballistic evidence, Henry’s testimony was unsafe, he insisted. He referred to a famous stated case — R v Turnbull — which dealt with the subject of identification and the guidelines which the police should follow. Most of Henry’s evidence did not follow these guidelines; therefore, Graham submitted, Hinksman should be found not guilty of the murders in the alley.
On Wednesday the Judge began her careful summing up. This lasted until the Friday and was fascinating to
