‘Who?’
‘Jacob Griffiths.’
‘The Jacob Griffiths!’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Make it official. Make sure you interview him at Challis Street and make sure he has legal representation. I don’t want last year’s businessman of the year talking to the media.’
‘Yes, sir. By the book.’
***
Jacob Griffiths reluctantly presented himself at Challis Street. The man who accompanied him was tall and thin. He looked expensive.
‘Thank you for coming,’ Isaac said. Len Donaldson stood alongside him.
The four men entered the interview room. Griffiths sat facing Isaac, the lawyer sat opposite Donaldson. Donaldson was on edge; Isaac could tell the man was anxious to wrap up the case.
‘My client has come here of his own free will,’ the lawyer said.
‘We are aware of that,’ Isaac said.
With all four men comfortable, Isaac commenced the interview, remembering to follow official procedures. DCS Goddard stood in another room, observing on a monitor.
‘Mr Griffiths, you were a friend of Lord Allerton?’ Isaac asked.
‘A good friend. We were at Eton together.’
‘Along with Keith Codrington and Miles Fortescue.’
‘We were all friends.’
‘According to our enquiries, there was a special bond between the four of you,’ Donaldson said.
‘That’s correct. It has served us well over the years.’
‘My client is here to assist you with your enquiry into the tragic death of his friend,’ the lawyer, Andrew Rushton, said. Isaac studied the man. He was in his early fifties, and he had a formidable reputation, even at Challis Street. It was the first time he had met the man in person, but he knew he would need to be careful in how he phrased his questions.
Griffiths’ face was well known from the constant adverts on the television, proudly proclaiming that his products were the cheapest, his vegetables and fruit the freshest. Len Donaldson knew him from his beaming face on the poster at the local supermarket he frequented every week.
‘We understand that Mr Griffiths is giving us his valuable time.’
‘Can we come back to Lord Allerton?’ Donaldson asked.
‘Tragic,’ Griffiths said.
‘We know that on the day of his death he was coming to this station to confess.’
‘Confess to what?’
‘I received a phone call from him in the morning to say that he would be here,’ Isaac said. ‘And that he’d tell us who was involved in the drug syndicate and who was the person in control.’
‘What drug syndicate?’ Griffiths replied.
‘If you are attempting to find guilt against my client due to a friendship, then you will need to be very careful,’ Rushton said, with steely eyes.
‘We’re trying to ascertain the facts. We do not believe that Lord Allerton was a major player, although we believe one of his friends is.’
‘It’s not me,’ Griffiths protested. Too strongly for Donaldson.
‘Our investigations indicate that Keith Codrington is the ringleader and that Lord Allerton was purely a minor functionary. We are aware that his financial position has dramatically improved in the last twelve to eighteen months, as has yours and that of Miles Fortescue.’
‘I’m an entrepreneur. That’s the definition.’
‘We believe that the scale of the operation required a large cash injection, more than Codrington could manage. Our enquiries confirm that the man was academically brilliant, highly skilled in international trade, and capable of setting up the large-scale importation and distribution of illegal drugs.’
Griffiths was on his feet. ‘Are you accusing me of being involved?’
‘Sit down,’ Rushton said, attempting to grab the man by the arm.
‘We are conducting enquiries. We’re not accusing anyone, but we are aware of some of the shipment dates, and we are correlating monies into your account and others.’
‘My financial records are not for public scrutiny.’
‘They will be,’ Donaldson said, knowing full well that a man such as Griffiths would have many bank accounts, and not all of them would be easy to trace.
‘Without Keith Codrington, we will place charges on those who financed him. Not only is there drug trafficking, there are also the murders of five people. We know the men who killed them, but the person giving the order is also subject to the charge of murder under English law. Believe me, we will continue with our enquiries, including the movements of all those suspected. We will make the connections, we will place charges,’ Isaac said.
Jacob Griffiths was sitting ashen-faced. ‘My client is innocent,’ his lawyer said.
‘We’ve not accused him of any crime,’ Donaldson said.
‘Just one more question,’ Isaac said. ‘Where is Keith Codrington?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ Griffiths replied.
‘When did you last see him?’
‘Two weeks ago.’
‘Thank you, Mr Griffiths. We will contact you if we have any further questions.’
The beaming face that confronted Len Donaldson at his supermarket every Saturday was not visible as the master shop owner left Challis Street.
‘Well handled,’ DCS Goddard said to the two police officers afterwards.
‘What do you reckon, sir?’ Donaldson asked.
‘Can you prove it?’
‘In time, but without Codrington it’s going to be difficult.’
‘Time is the one luxury you don’t have.’
***
Jacob Griffiths and Miles Fortescue, fearful of being seen together, kept in contact by phone.
‘There’s no way out,’ Fortescue admitted. A quick phone call to Alwyn Davies to register an official complaint had been easy to do, but if there was any hint of his guilt, Fortescue knew the commissioner would pull back.
‘What are you planning to do?’ Griffiths asked. For once, he was at a loss on how to proceed. In the past, whether it was a takeover of another business or facing financial ruin, there were always options: favours to pull in, pressure to be applied. But now, with an impending arrest due to his involvement in drug trafficking, as well as the crime of murder, he knew full well who would give him support – nobody. And there were some who would put the boot in, try to grab
