some real weirdos in her time who would probably have been perfect gentlemen with their wives. Sickos she could handle. But this was completely different. Here was a man who, she was certain, had murdered her friend and it would only be a matter of time before he killed again.
‘ I didn’t know what to do, but I had to do something. I couldn’t go to the police because…’ Gillian broke the sentence and paused hesitantly. Because I’ve killed my pimp and the cops‘re after me, was what she almost said. ‘For certain reasons,’ she eventually said. ‘It’s been going around and around my head for days, ever since he.. stuck a knife next to my cunt.’
The other woman squirmed with distaste at the last word. Even Gillian winced, but it was a word she used every day and she couldn’t think of anything less offensive. She was what she was.
The other woman’s head was bowed in shame. She was trembling all over. Tears poured out. She looked up. ‘Don’t apologise,’ she said. ‘I’ve suspected for so long… prostitutes… but murder?’
‘ He told me Marie was going to go public about their relationship unless he paid her big bucks. He didn’t actually say he’d killed her, but said he’d made her suffer. Like he’d make me suffer if I told anyone. That was when he did his demonstration with the knife. I’m sorry, Mrs McNamara. I didn’t know what else to do.’
Rider held out his hands. Henry snapped on the rigid cuffs, not too tightly, letting them be as comfortable as handcuffs could be.
The Custody Sergeant gave Henry Rider’s custody record, having made a copy for filing. The original always went with the body.
Donaldson’s bleeper informed him to phone the Legat in London, which he did as soon as he and Karen returned to Henry’s house after taking the statement from Eric Taylor. He was told to ring an international number. He dialled it immediately after clearing it with Kate.
His heart leapt as he recognised the language spoken at the other end Portuguese. He falteringly told the woman his name. He was reconnected successfully.
‘ Santana,’ came the gruff voice.
‘ George, Karl Donaldson here. What’s happening?’
‘ Your friend Hamilton… we have been sticking to him like glue since he returned to Madeira. He spent little time here and then boarded a plane to Lisbon where we were able to keep up with him. He met a man there at a hotel. Our men have watched them carefully.’ Santana sounded proud of his achievement. ‘They are both booked onto a flight to Manchester tonight.’
‘ Who is the man?’
‘ We don’t know, but we have taken photographs of him. They are good quality. Maybe I could send them to you?’
‘ Yeah, sure, hold on…’ Donaldson clamped a hand over the receiver and said to Karen, ‘Honey, can we use one of the fax machines at a police station hereabouts?’
‘ Yes, shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll need to find a number, obviously.’
‘ You can send a fax to this number,’ Kate interjected. ‘Not to that actual phone, but to the one that’s plugged in upstairs. Henry bought it for some reason and never used the thing, but it works.’
‘ Great.’ Down the phone he said to Santana, ‘You can fax the photos to this number and send the real ones by DHL to the Legat in London. Gotta pen?’ Donaldson recited the number. ‘Put the flight details on it, willya?’
Santana said he would. ‘There is something more. While Hamilton was in Madeira, we followed him to the docks in Funchal, to the container depot. He checked the contents of a container which was resealed. I swore out a warrant and broke the seal.’ Santana laughed.
‘ George, you have something to tell me, I feel sure.’
‘ It was full of guns of all descriptions, as well as hand-held missile launchers. Many, many weapons.’
‘ What did you do?’
‘ Resealed the container and arrested a Customs official whom we suspected of being involved. He is singing like a baby. Mr Hamilton is a very bad man.’
The fax came through fifteen agonising minutes later. They were good, clear photos of the man who had met Hamilton in Lisbon. When he saw the face, Donaldson blew a sweet kiss to Sam Dawber, because without her, he would never have been able to identify the man. Thanks to her memory games with mug-shots, Donaldson recognised him immediately as Raymond de Vere — a man wanted by several police forces throughout Europe. He made his living buying weaponry for terrorist organisations worldwide.
Karl let out a long, satisfied sigh. ‘Kate, d’ya mind if I make another call?’
The van, one of the smaller Sherpa models which Lancashire police used as general purpose vehicles, had been reversed as close to the rear door of the station as was geographically possible.
Henry and his handcuffed prisoner came out of the custody office. Siobhan opened the rear doors of the van and then the inner cage. Rider walked ahead of Henry, ducked, and climbed in. He sat placidly down on the bench seat.
Siobhan remained at the open door. ‘You go in with him, Henry.’
‘ I’d rather sit up front.’
‘ Not enough room.’
Henry got in with Rider.
The cage door slammed shut behind him with a loud crash and the spring-loaded locking bar jerked into place. Henry sat opposite his prisoner. Rider gave him a wan smile, leaned back and rested his head against the side of the van.
Siobhan climbed in the front passenger seat and said something to the driver that Henry could not make out.
The driver turned and peered backwards, giving Henry a quick salute. It was Gallagher.
Siobhan’s door opened again. She budged up and allowed space for a further person to sit next to her on the double seat.
This was Tattersall.
‘ Have you got the keys for these cuffs?’ Rider asked.
‘ Yeah, why?’
Coolly, as though he was simply passing the time of day with idle chatter: ‘Because I think we could have a problem here. That guy’ — he cocked a thumb at Gallagher’s back — ‘is one of the two who visited Shane Mulcahy and left him with little option but to retract a complaint against you. I’ll lay odds the other guy was his running mate.’
Henry’s mouth dropped open. ‘You sure?’
‘ Saw him leave Shane’s flat and pull his ski-mask off.’
The van moved off slowly.
‘ Made a real mess of the lad.’
Donaldson and Karen moved to the dining room and spread everything out on the table.
They had four statements from witnesses to the robbery in Fleetwood. All clearly confirmed that their original statements had been tampered with.
Then there was Eric Taylor’s statement and five grand, and the MI5 photographs of Conroy, McNamara, Morton and Hamilton.
Finally there was the faxed photo which had recently come up the line from Santana.
‘ Several threads here,’ mused Donaldson, ‘all interlinked by the North West Organised Crime Squad. I think there’s enough here for Henry to breathe a sigh of relief, although he still might have some explanations to make to Kate.
‘ The bottom line is that these bastards in this squad are up to their necks in criminal activity and we’ve got enough to lay it on the table and say to them, “Answer that, assholes!”.’
‘ What do you know about this guy?’ Karen pointed to the newest face on file.
‘ He’s an agent and simply brings buyers and sellers together and takes his percentage. Raymond de Vere, he’s called. French background, Irish upbringing. Hence the fact that the IRA are one of his biggest clients.’
