‘Not as people I hung out with. Nineteen sixty-nine is a long time ago. We certainly weren’t friends.’
‘You left – retired from – Metro DC prematurely, didn’t you, Mr Johnson?’ asked Benton.
‘Again, what’s the relevance of that question?’ said Clarkson.
‘Establishing the reliability and credibility of witnesses in a forthcoming criminal prosecution,’ said Benton. ‘Our prosecutors don’t like courtroom challenges that could have been anticipated…’ He nodded towards the recording apparatus. ‘Now there it is, unequivocally on tape.’
‘Are you impugning my client’s integrity?’
‘Absolutely not!’ insisted Dingley, enunciating each syllable to enforce the denial. ‘At the moment – as we probably haven’t sufficiently made clear or established – we look to Mr Johnson as an essential witness.’
‘To what?’ Clarkson continued to challenge. ‘My client was briefly present at an arrest, an arrest now the subject of a quite separate civil case in no way involving or concerning the FBI. How can that brief involvement make him an essential, material witness?’
‘At this stage of our enquiries, Mr Johnson is one of the only witnesses to anything!’ said Benton. ‘We’re anxious we don’t leave unasked any question that might give us an opening.’
‘I am glad, after all, that this interview is being recorded,’ said Clarkson.
‘So are we,’ said Benton, immediately. ‘That’s why we asked for it to be done.’ He switched quickly to Johnson. ‘You did leave Metro DC police department prematurely, didn’t you, Mr Johnson?’
‘I’d reached my first available retirement opportunity. I chose to take it.’
‘Why was that?’ asked Benton, mildly.
‘A position came up at Dubette, in their security division.’
‘As head of their security division?’
Johnson’s wariness was back. ‘Yes.’
‘That was quite a jump, going straight in as head of a unit,’ commented Dingley.
‘I had the qualifications and experience. I was headhunted, if you like.’ He smiled at his own pun.
‘As I’m sure you most certainly liked,’ Dingley smiled back. ‘How’d that happen, Mr Johnson? How did Dubette come to think of you – find you – out of every likely candidate – out of Metro DC, where there were so many officers that you didn’t even get to remember Peter Bellamy and Helen Montgomery, who were your contemporaries?’
Johnson’s smile remained. ‘Their previous security chief, Joe Blanchard. He’d earlier worked for Metro DC police. Put me forward with a personal recommendation.’
‘It’s not what you know, it’s who you know,’ Benton said. ‘Isn’t that what they always say?’
‘That’s what they always say,’ agreed Johnson.
‘So you left Metro DC in, what was it, November 1996?’
‘Something like that,’ said Johnson.
‘ Exactly like that, November ten, 1996,’ said Dingley. ‘We got it from Metro DC records. Not a good time around then for Metro DC police. Lot of internal enquiries. Lot of people leaving the force. You remember that, Mr Johnson?’
‘This has got to stop!’ protested Clarkson.
‘Sir!’ came back Dingley. ‘This is a murder and potential terrorism investigation. Two Metro DC officers arrested a man in questionable circumstances…’ He raised his hand, against the lawyer’s further interruption. ‘All right! That’s being challenged elsewhere, in a court with which we have no involvement or jurisdiction. But we do have a very real interest in their reliability as witnesses in our ongoing investigation. We’d hoped your client could simply give us a steer on that reliability.’
‘My client has already told you he did not know Officers Bellamy or Montgomery well enough to be able to attest to that,’ persisted Clarkson.
‘Indeed he has,’ said Benton. ‘But the question wasn’t about the two officers, was it? It was about an unfortunate, embarrassing time within Metro DC police department.’
‘An embarrassing time in which my client was in no way involved,’ said Clarkson. ‘And which has no relevance whatsoever to the investigation in which you’re currently engaged.’
‘That wasn’t the question, or the inference, either,’ persisted Dingley. ‘I asked if Mr Johnson remembered it.’
‘Of course I remember it,’ said Johnson. ‘The enquiries were internal but they were widely covered in the press.’
‘Evidence-tampering… bribery… stuff like that,’ recalled Benton. ‘Which brings us up to date with our current investigation. There’s indications here of tampering with or planting forensic evidence. You think Officers Bellamy and Montgomery would be capable of doing anything like that, Mr Johnson?’
‘How many more times do I have to tell you that I don’t know them well enough?’ protested the security chief. ‘How can I judge what they’re capable of?’
‘What about that day?’ persisted Benton. ‘You’re a professional. You were with them, saw how they operated. They look to you to be good, honest cops?’
‘As far as I was aware – what I saw – they behaved perfectly properly and professionally,’ said Johnson.
‘This is getting ridiculous!’ re-entered the lawyer.
For the first time, the agents ignored the interruption. Focusing solely upon Johnson, Dingley said: ‘You – and the security officers you control – carry weapons, don’t you? Smith and Wesson thirty-eights? Police Specials?’
‘For which we are licensed,’ said Johnson.
‘We know. We’ve already checked,’ assured Dingley. ‘Anything else? Mace? Pepper spray? Batons?’
‘My staff and I protect a pharmaceutical research facility, a very obvious target in the drug culture in which we live,’ said Johnson.
‘So, what else is it you carry?’ persisted Dingley.
‘The night staff – sometimes the day staff, too – carry Mace. And batons.’
‘Ever had to use it? Or discharge your weapon?’ asked Dingley.
‘No,’ said Johnson.
‘Let’s hope you never do,’ said Benton.
‘There’s an inconsistency we’d like you to help us with,’ said Dingley, in a sudden change of direction. ‘Our recollection – and Dave and I have checked our notes on this – was that you told us you didn’t know what car Richard Parnell drove. Or what its registration was. Is that right, Mr Johnson? Is it right you didn’t know the make of the car or its registration number, until Richard Parnell took you to it on the morning of his arrest?’
The blink was of a country road animal on a dark night, transfixed in the lights of an oncoming vehicle. Johnson said: ‘I don’t remember
… what I did or didn’t tell you, I mean… don’t remember your asking …’
‘So, let’s ask you again, Mr Johnson,’ said Benton. ‘Until the day of Richard Parnell’s arrest, did you know the make or registration of his vehicle?’
‘I told you I don’t remember!’
‘No!’ refused Dingley. ‘What you didn’t remember was what you told us when we first talked. The question now is whether, before Mr Parnell’s arrest, you knew his car details.’
‘Dubette have a research and administration staff at McLean close to two thousand people,’ said the man.
‘One thousand, eight hundred and forty-two,’ supplied Benton. ‘Out of that one thousand eight hundred and forty-two, did you know the details of Mr Parnell’s car?’
‘No!’ blurted Johnson.
‘You absolutely sure about that?’ said Benton. ‘On the evening Mr Parnell found his car damaged… damaged sufficiently to remove paint later found around – but not adhering to – Ms Lang’s car, you logged on Dubette’s personnel file access system as having examined Mr Parnell’s personal records. And in those documents is listed the make and registration of Mr Parnell’s car. Do you remember going through Mr Parnell’s file?’
The approaching headlights were blindingly in Johnson’s eyes. He shook his head, blinked a lot, and looked sideways for help to his lawyer. Clarkson said: ‘This interview ceases, now! I need further time… instruction… with my client…’
‘We can fully understand that,’ accepted Dingley. ‘As we made very clear from the outset, by having this interview recorded, we are extending every legally required courtesy to your client, Mr Harry Johnson. Which is why
