‘It wasn’t Becali. We can trace his movements at the time of Buckley’s death; yours, we can’t.’
‘My client has no more to say,’ Ponta said.
‘Let’s move on,’ Isaac said. He was feeling increasingly comfortable with the situation. Oscar Braxton was listening in from another room, as was Richard Goddard.
‘To where?’
‘Marcus Hearne.’
‘The black man,’ Antonescu said sneeringly.
‘Do you have an issue with people of colour?’
‘Not me. I knew him, didn’t like him, although I suppose you did.’
Isaac could tell that the Romanian was racist, not that it impacted the investigation, unless it was a motive.
‘Cojocaru attempted to bring the West Indian gangs in, the reason that four of their leaders accepted his hospitality. Claude Bateman, Devon Harris and Jeremy Miller made it to the meeting, Hearne didn’t. Why?’
‘I’ll not answer that question.’
‘Because you can’t, or you don’t want to?’
‘My client has been charged with one murder. We will address the falsehood of that, not other purported crimes,’ Ponta said.
‘Dead in a ditch is not purported,’ Larry said.
‘To you it’s important, but not to my client who is innocent. He is concerned with a false accusation against him. He came to this police station, not to be charged with murder, but for assistance. He is fearful for his life, and now you have jeopardised it further.’
‘Why?’
‘Nicolae Cojocaru has powerful friends in Romania. They will not take his death lightly.’
‘The man had no friends in Romania. He was a social pariah, convicted of crimes in absentia, derided by the villains there. Let’s not pretend otherwise. The man’s dead and no one is going to miss him.’
‘Then someone did you a favour,’ Antonescu said.
‘They did, but it’s still murder, and you did it.’
‘Gentlemen, this is going nowhere,’ Ponta said. ‘Mr Antonescu wants to help, but with a murder charge against him, he is reluctant to say more. If an accommodation could be made, then it may be possible that he can further assist.’
‘We can’t grant him immunity from prosecution, not for murder,’ Isaac said.
‘Then he has no more to say.’
***
‘What can Antonescu do against us?’ Gennady Peskov asked. He was in Ivanov’s house, a glass of whisky in his hand, the same as Ivanov.
Ivanov touched the plaster on his head, felt a slight pain as he applied pressure. Apart from that he felt fine, although he realised that his mental acumen was still not up to speed. He had erred with Antonescu, underestimated the stupidity of the man.
‘Antonescu can do nothing against me,’ Ivanov said. ‘You allowed him to be arrested. What do you intend to do?’
‘But you commanded me to tell him to kill Cojocaru.’
‘And then you were meant to kill Antonescu and to ensure his body was never found. Why didn’t you?’
‘It was planned. He may have sensed that others were coming for him.’
‘He sensed nothing. He is just a mindless thug. The same as you, Gennady Peskov, have proven to be.’
‘I gave instructions for him to be killed after he left Cojocaru’s.’
‘You are not the mastermind, I am. I entrusted you with more responsibility after you stayed by my side in the hospital, but it appears that my weakness in crediting you with brains was a mistake.’
‘I will discipline those that have failed us.’
‘Failed you. Can your command be tied back to you, to me? Can these men be trusted again?’
‘Not in this country.’
‘Then they must leave immediately. Where are they now?’
‘They are nearby.’
‘A plane is waiting for them, make sure they are on it. I want them out of England within two hours, is that clear?’
‘And what of me?’
‘You will stay. You will protect me at all costs, even your own life. But you are a fool. I will need to keep a watch on you from now on.’
‘I will not let you down,’ Peskov said.
‘If you do, I will not be so generous the next time,’ Ivanov said. He knew that he was not generous, only astute. Gennady Peskov, for all his faults, was the one man who would stand between him and a bullet.
In another part of London, a group of police officers discussed the situation.
‘Marcus Hearne?’
‘Becali or Antonescu, probably both,’ Isaac said.
‘Ivanov is still free,’ Larry said.
‘And will remain so,’ Oscar Braxton said. ‘He’s taken on a couple of Queen’s Counsels to protect him legally, and a PR company to deflect the negative publicity that’s stuck to him. Expect to see more of Ivanov at charitable functions in the next month or so, overly-generous donations as well. We can’t beat him, not while money speaks.’
‘Briganti’s?’ Wendy said.
‘It still needs to be solved. Marcus Hearne knew something, or Cojocaru couldn’t trust him, not after he was speaking to me,’ Larry said.
‘He’s not the first person who’s given you information that has died,’ Isaac said.
‘Not the first, not the last,’ Larry agreed, ‘but Wendy’s right. What about Briganti’s?’
Isaac made one more phone call, Gordon Windsor answered.
‘Antonescu was at Cojocaru’s penthouse; we can prove that from a strand of hair on a chair that he sat in,’ Windsor said. ‘It’s recent, the chair had been cleaned in the last couple of weeks. We’ve also checked Antonescu against Briganti’s. No shortage of hair there, a hairdressing salon, but we found proof that he had been in there as well. Not blond and dyed, dark and natural. How the man pulled it off and managed to walk out of there unseen, we don’t know. But he’s your man. He killed those people at Briganti’s.’
Isaac relayed Windsor’s findings to the team. ‘He must have been working for Ivanov for a long time,’ he said.
‘Poor Sal,’ Wendy said. ‘She thought it was love and then
