***
The video in our room clicked back on. The client conference had obviously concluded. The two policemen followed the protocols again, naming the room occupants and stating the time.
Alan Parsons then spoke up. “Lord Hickstead denies any involvement in the kidnapping. He was unaware of the abduction until he saw that clip of video. He does acknowledge, however, that there is a possibility that a misguided friend may have acted in what they thought was his best interests. Now, having expressed his outrage at what has been done in his name, he is even more eager to reach a deal so that the women can be returned safely.”
“Thank you, Mr Parsons,” Boniface replied. “If that turned out to be true, then it would be very public spirited of his Lordship to accept punishment just to save the life of two women he does not know. Albeit he has been in possession of some extremely explicit and unpleasant pictures of one of them.” He paused before turning his gaze to Hickstead. “But, of course, everyone sitting around this table knows that this is all crap. Your client is up to his neck in blackmail, kidnapping and armed robbery. He may even be responsible for one or more deaths. How am I going to persuade the CPS to go for any sort of deal in those circumstances?”
Hickstead smiled nastily. “Because we have a common goal. I want a deal, and you want the hostages back. This is a win-win scenario. If the deal doesn’t happen, it becomes a lose-lose scenario, where two women die unnecessarily and I take my chances with a jury.”
Coombes stepped in, for the first time playing the good cop. “Lord Hickstead, you may have crossed some lines but I cannot believe that you would let two women die just because you had to face a trial for a blackmail plot that you yourself hatched.”
“Just watch me!” Hickstead snapped.
“Arthur, be quiet! Let me do the talking,” Parsons advised him quickly. “This isn’t helping your cause one iota.” Hickstead fell silent, and the lawyer sighed.
“Might we have some drinks brought in? It might cool things down a little.”
“Of course. I’ll see to it.” Boniface excused himself, and the tape was stopped. A minute later he was in our room, with an audacious plan that he had cooked up with DCI Coombes during the break. He told us what he had in mind.
“Is that legal? Are you allowed to do that? It seems rather underhand,” I said.
“It’s borderline, but hey, when DCI Coombes joined the force they were still slapping suspects with wet towels.” Boniface smiled. “Timing is everything, remember.” The plan was already underway.
***
Coombes was chatting amiably to Alan Parsons, recalling previous cases where they had faced one another. Boniface entered, and set down a tray of soft drinks and chilled water, both still and sparkling. There were also the ubiquitous biscuits that were so common in meetings. The chocolate ones and the cream filled ones would be consumed, but the Rich Tea would be passed over for the next meeting to ignore, as usual.
I looked at my watch. Any second now, I thought, and a moment later there was a tap on the interview room door.
“Enter,” Boniface shouted, without looking up.
A young girl entered the room. She was smartly attired in a modest burgundy dress, trimmed with lace. She was wearing black tights and was wearing smart black shoes with a low heel. Her hair was tied back to show that her face was lightly made up.
I watched as Hickstead dropped his glass, spilling water over himself and his lawyer.
“Oops,” said the girl. “I’ll see if I can get a cloth for that. Dad said you might need these papers, Inspector.”
Boniface took the papers from her with a smile. “Thank you, Lavender. Don’t worry about the cloth, though. I have a fresh handkerchief here. Close the door on the way out, please.”
***
Alan Parsons railed at the two detectives for a full five minutes as Hickstead sat looking blankly at the table. He looked rather like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
“Right, Alan. Your complaints have been registered on the tape. Now, would you like to hear what kept us busy the rest of the weekend?”
“Go on,” the lawyer said wearily, knowing that nothing good was to come from this summation.
Boniface explained the Europol operation and the part that the Holloway family had played in the events. He explained that Van Aart had been persuaded to become a prosecution witness to reduce his own jail time, and that Van Aart had met with his Lordship in Amsterdam.
He explained how an innocent woman lay in a hospital bed with two bullet wounds, and five men lay dead in a morgue because Hickstead wouldn’t face up to his crimes and tried to cover them up by conspiring to commit even more serious crimes.
Hickstead and his lawyer were then shown a statement from a man called Johnny, who said that the Holloways had been assisting Van Aart’s men to recover a holdall and a painting from Lord Hickstead’s safety deposit box at Citysafe. Johnny confessed to kidnapping Lavender in order to give Lord Hickstead leverage over Don Fisher, and he related the story of Dee Conrad’s trials at the hands of the Dutch criminals.
By the time Boniface concluded with the facts that Lord Hickstead’s fingerprints were found on the holdall and the painting, Parsons had already given up hope of keeping his client out of prison for the rest of his days.
***
“You are joking, surely, Commissioner!” DCI Coombes was back at his livid best. “This man has been charged with blackmail, conspiracy to commit armed robbery and conspiracy to kidnap two women. A banker, a philanthropist, an accountant and five other men lie dead because of his direct and indirect actions.”
“Coombes, please remember where you are,” the Commissioner said by way of warning.
“Well, obviously I’ve strayed into some banana republic where politicians can do what the hell they like and just walk away!” Coombes spluttered. Boniface grabbed his arm and looked into the DCI’s face.
“Terry, will you please calm down? This won’t get us anywhere. Let’s see what we can do to make the best of the decision.”
“Listen to the Inspector, Coombes, and I will try to forget your intemperate outburst,” the Commissioner said. “I don’t like this any more than you do. Whilst Hickstead’s friends are deserting him with the rapidity of rats leaving a sinking ship, they do not want another scandal. We already have four MPs on trial for expenses fraud. When the public find out that a peer has been involved in serious crimes like these, there will likely be an outcry the likes of which we have never seen before.
The establishment wants time to prepare. This week there will be an emergency debate in the House of Lords, and if necessary special legislation will be rushed through both houses to expel Hickstead. By the end of the month you will have all of the evidence together, and we will be in a better position to arraign him. We will oppose bail, of course, and he will sit on remand for months while we prepare for trial.
Gentlemen. For the next few days he will be under virtual house arrest with MI5 ‘protecting him from a terrorist threat’. I can assure you that he will never see the light of day again after that, except through prison bars.”
“Thank you, Commissioner. Can we assume that our colleagues elsewhere in the Yard and in Europol will freeze all of Lord Hickstead’s assets in the meantime?” Boniface asked.
“Yes, with two exceptions. First, we cannot touch his pension funds without agreement from the Union that holds those funds. But in any event he cannot access his pension for another year, by which time he will not need it. Second, we are obliged to allow him to operate a simple credit account so that he can honour his commitments to his creditors. The bank and credit card companies cannot lend him money, or accept any new money. He can only expend funds that he has in his account as of today.”
“Thank you, Commissioner,” Boniface said. “We will ensure that he is securely delivered to Parliament Street.”