It was about those one or two words the foreperson would read out after the jury had retired to deliberate their verdict. Quite binary, really.
Guilty.
Not guilty.
Or in a barrister’s more colloquial terms –
Win.
Lose.
Fox remained behind after Brown and her junior barrister left the room. He gave Gready a reassuring smile. ‘We’ll sort it, Terry,’ he said.
‘What’s the update on Mickey Starr?’
‘No news — a lot depends on the outcome of your trial. If you were found guilty — heaven forbid — you’d both be sentenced together.’
‘And he’s kept schtum?’
‘Appears to have done. He doesn’t feature in any of the trial documents. Want him as a character reference?’
‘Funny,’ Gready said, bitterly.
Fox was silent.
Gready went on. ‘You said a while back he’s looking at the wrong end of fifteen years plus?’
Fox nodded again. ‘For that amount of drugs, yes, plus his violence at Newhaven. He’d likely serve half actually inside, less what he’s done already on remand, the rest out on licence.’
‘How much reduction do you think he’d get for ratting me up?’
The solicitor was evasive. ‘Depends. You know the score, Terry, you’ve been in that situation with clients yourself.’
‘I know — but I’m finding it hard to think straight sometimes, at the moment. Depends on what?’
‘On how valuable the prosecution thinks what he has to say is. He could be looking at a substantial reduction in sentence.’
Gready smiled. It was a while since he had last smiled. But Nick Fox would sort it, he knew. They had their plan. King of the Jungle. He always sorted everything.
23
Friday 3 May
‘You look tired, Roy. Are you OK?’ Alison Vosper asked.
They were in a booth of a hotel on the Embankment, close to New Scotland Yard.
‘I’m good, ma’am,’ he said, grateful for the strong but bad coffee that had been poured into his cup. He sliced open a poached egg, the yolk running across the toast and avocado. ‘Just sad about the stabbing victim I saw earlier.’
The Deputy Assistant Commissioner of the Met shrugged. ‘I know how well you’ve picked up on the fact there are huge cultural differences between communities. Not all our officers get it, but you do. I’m really impressed with what you’ve achieved in your short time with us — and it hasn’t escaped the attention of my boss and the Home Office. You’ve done what I thought was impossible when I took on this role.’
He smiled. ‘What is it they say, ma’am? The impossible we do immediately, miracles take a little longer?’
She reached across the table and gave his right hand a supportive pat. There had been moments, back in the time when she was his ACC in Sussex, when — despite her sweet and sour approach — he’d seen her with her guard down and sensed her affection for him. He was sensing the same thing now. She withdrew her hand and dug a fork into her scrambled eggs but maintained eye contact with him for some moments.
‘You’ve established stronger community links. You’ve done great work in education, outreach, youth services. And your stick-and-carrot campaign has gained strong support. I like your work on the minimum three-year sentence for first conviction for anyone carrying a knife, and your “three strikes and you’re out” initiative.’
‘Thank you, ma’am.’
She locked eyes with him again. ‘You have an opportunity here to make a real difference. Are you sure you don’t want to stay and at least see some of this through?’
He ate a mouthful of egg, toast and avocado, using the time to compose his reply. ‘The Met response from a murder point of view is excellent. I feel I’ve done my bit, adding my SIO head. Everyone here knows what they have to do, but my family needs me home — and there’s a lot of work to be done in Sussex.’
She stared back at him.
‘You and I make a great team. Stay in London, Roy, and I’ll give you a Commander’s job, crime-related so you can still do the things you love. I’m going to be around for a long while — this offer doesn’t have a shelf-life.’
‘That’s very generous of you, ma’am.’
‘I’m serious. If you want to leave Sussex at any time, ring me. You have my personal number. My offer isn’t going to go away, I’d give you a job as a Commander tomorrow.’
24
Friday 3 May
‘Nice epaulettes, Roy,’ ACC Cassian Pewe commented, slightly mocking as Grace entered his office. ‘But not for much longer, eh?’
‘Actually, Cassian, I’ve been offered an extended Commander posting to the Met,’ he said. On their current equal ranking there was no requirement to call him by the respectful title of sir. For this week, at least. Next week, when he returned to his former rank in Sussex, it would be different, as he dropped back down to Detective Superintendent.
‘So why don’t you take it, Roy?’ Pewe asked. ‘Although I’ll tell you the truth, we’re missing you here.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘We are. We’re short on the Major Crime Team. I hope you’ve felt your time in the Met has been worthwhile?’
‘I do, I think what I’ve learned will be of invaluable help in the future here.’
‘Sounds very worthy, Roy. Jolly good. But is there another reason why you wanted to see me?’
Grace told him his concerns about Dr Edward Crisp.
‘You seriously think the doctor is going to do a runner from court?’
‘If he was capable of escaping from a French prison then I do, yes. That’s why I want to upgrade the security for the trial.’
‘What do you have in mind?’
‘Extra security for his transportation to and from prison to court. Two security guards posted on each court door and at least one police officer, if not two, at the street entrance, for the duration of the trial.’
‘I’m not sure the cost of extra policing would be justified.’
‘A lot less than the cost of a manhunt for an escaped murder suspect. Not to mention the egg on our faces in the eyes of Joe Public.’
Pewe shook his head. ‘I don’t have the luxury of spare police officers to pull off frontline duty to use as doormen. Perhaps in your Met you do, but not here. It’s not going to happen. Relax. If the CPS want more security, they can liaise with the security providers. I’m not using my resources on someone who’s already in our prison system.’
Roy held his counsel for a few seconds before replying. ‘All security discussion aside, Cassian, Sussex Police kick off the promotion procedure for Chief Superintendents next week. It’s something I need to think carefully about — I may be throwing my hat in the ring.’
Pewe looked at him for a few seconds. ‘Really? Are you expecting me to support your application?’
‘Not expecting, but if you value me as much as you say, then I’d like to think I can count on your recommendation?’
Pewe smiled. ‘Look, Roy, I know you and I have our differences. And history. And I don’t want to lose you, I genuinely don’t. I want you back on my team. I have the greatest respect for you.’
‘Really? You’ve a strange way of showing it sometimes, Cassian.’