‘It makes no sense.’
‘Not to us, but we are not smart men, not as smart as Ivanov. I had to decide, the same as you. I chose Ivanov, you chose to die,’ Crin Antonescu said.
Cojocaru, not sure what to say or do, sat down on a chair. Antonescu sat too, always ensuring that the gun he held was pointed at his former boss.
Neither man moved, except to maintain their gaze at the other. Cojocaru could see the impassiveness in the other’s eyes, but he was not surprised. Crin Antonescu had always been emotionless when violence was involved, whereas Ion Becali had followed orders, and now he was in police custody.
‘It would be better if you shot me now,’ Cojocaru said.
Antonescu shot Cojocaru once in the head, the man’s lifeless body slumping forward. After the man had died, Antonescu reflected on what he had just done, feeling a pang of regret.
He knew that Cojocaru, for all his faults, had supported him, and what he had done in France was only what he would have done if the positions had been reversed. He left the penthouse with a heavy heart and drove back to his hotel. He had re-entered England under a false name, his dark hair dyed blond and cropped short. Life was as uncertain for him as it had been for Cojocaru and for Becali. He knew that he needed to leave the country as soon as possible.
***
Ion Becali sat in the interview room at Challis Street Police Station. In front of him, a cup of tea, to one side, his lawyer, a naturalised British citizen from Romania. Across from the two Romanians, Isaac Cook and Larry Hill.
Isaac followed the procedures required, informed Becali of his rights and that what he said could be used in evidence. He had said it many times in the past, and he knew it verbatim, but it was imperative that Becali, a man with a good level of fluency in English, understood it as well, the Romanian lawyer ensuring that he did.
‘Mr Becali, you have been arrested outside Stanislav Ivanov’s house. You were armed. Why?’
‘My client has nothing to say,’ Klaus Ponta, the lawyer, said. The man’s English was flawless. He was in his mid-forties, starting to put on weight, his hair beginning to thin. Isaac felt that Becali had chosen his lawyer well.
‘Carrying a loaded gun is a crime in this country,’ Isaac said. ‘There is a minimum five-year prison term for the offence. Mr Becali needs to be made aware of this.’
‘I am,’ Becali said.
‘What was your intent on approaching Mr Ivanov’s house?’
‘I wanted to talk to him, to reason on behalf of Nicolae Cojocaru.’
‘With a gun?’
‘I knew that Ivanov would have guns in the house. It was for personal protection.’
‘Are you telling us that Ivanov is a criminal?’
‘I am not.’
‘Then why would Cojocaru want to make a deal with Ivanov? Ivanov is a man without a criminal record, but we all know in this room that Cojocaru is responsible for distributing large quantities of illegal drugs throughout the area and the country.’
‘No charges have been laid against Mr Cojocaru,’ Ponta said. ‘Supposition is not the basis for an interview, neither is putting words into the mouth of my client, who may or may not fully understand the legal implications.’
‘Mr Becali, we can prove that you were in the flat where the first assassination attempt was made. We believe that you intended to try a third time, although that would have almost certainly resulted in your death.’
‘I am not guilty of murder.’
‘As an assassin, you have proved your incompetence. As a prisoner, you may be more effective. The choice is yours. If we release you with no charges, then Ivanov may choose to remove you, or maybe Cojocaru will. And what about Sal Maynard and the shooting at Briganti’s? Was it you?’
‘I’ve told you before, I may have been with the Maynard woman, nothing more.’
‘We now believe that she was also involved with Crin Antonescu. Did you know this?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘Ryan Buckley, an inspector with the Irish police, was murdered. We know it wasn’t you, although it is possible that you know the reason why.’
‘Why should I?’
‘Buckley was a friend of Seamus Gaffney, a man who kept his nose to the ground. We believe he knew something which he told Buckley. Buckley, we know, killed Gaffney and then attempted to strike a deal with someone, either Cojocaru or Ivanov.’
‘It appears that you have nothing against my client, other than carrying a weapon,’ Ponta said.
‘You can try if you want to dismiss that charge, but the charge of attempted murder still applies.’
‘How?’ Becali said.
‘We have a witness,’ Larry said. ‘A witness that will testify that you were in the flat where the shot on the first attempt was made. Also, on the second attempt, CCTV footage of a person fleeing the area, as well as a shoe print. We have enough to make a conviction stick. Mr Becali, I would suggest that you start to tell the truth.’
‘Why? You intend to convict me of crimes I didn’t commit.’
‘We have sent a vehicle to pick up Nicolae Cojocaru. He will be offered the chance to make a statement. If he knows you are to be convicted of attempted murder, what do you think he will say?’
***
Isaac had to agree that the evidence against Becali was not tight. The man was guilty, but it was mainly based on incomplete evidence. Even the gun recovered from outside Ivanov’s did not have fingerprints, Becali having worn leather gloves on account of the cold morning. And Fahad Shaikh, a recent arrival in the country with his young wife, probably a first cousin as was the
