The cry of assent was overwhelming, and everyone hurried back to their seats. For a brief moment, only Tom and Michael Grant remained standing,and as Brock watched the MP hesitate,he wondered if he was thinking that the slum boy from the Dungle had finally been caught red-handed among the gilt picture frames and Gothic wall panelling of the immortals.
‘Give us your full name, please.’
‘Thomas Reeves.’
‘What do you do for a living, Mr Reeves?’
‘I’m a police officer.’
A groan went around the office at Queen Anne’s Gate at that, but Kathy knew that Tom had no choice-Hadden-Vane already knew, and she saw that Brock realised that too.
‘Of what rank?’
‘Inspector.’
‘And in what section?’
‘I can’t say.’
‘Special Branch, perhaps?’ Hadden-Vane suggested grimly. ‘You do undercover work, don’t you? Like befriending young women and persuading them to take you home with them?’
Tom didn’t respond.
‘Why did you befriend Ms A?’
Again Tom didn’t answer, but this time a restive grumble came from several parts of the table and Hart spoke up. ‘You must answer, Inspector Reeves.’
‘I was seeking evidence in relation to an investigation.’
‘Did you have a search warrant?’ she asked.
‘No.’
‘And were you instructed by your superiors to befriend Ms A or search her house?’ Hadden-Vale said quickly, reluctant to let anyone else take over his role as interrogator.
‘No.’
‘And this investigation, it’s been approved, has it? It is official?’
Tom hesitated, glanced at the Chair, who peered back at him as if trying to place where she’d seen him before.
‘Not at present.’
‘So you inveigled your way into Ms A’s house without authorisationon a case of your own invention,broke into her father’s study, photocopied his private business papers, stole some letterheads that unfortunately happened to be out of date, and forged-’
‘No!’ Tom interrupted, but Hadden-Vane continued relentlessly.
‘-forged additional documents to create an incriminating body of evidence.’
‘Those documents were all exactly as I found them. I didn’t manufacture any of them.’
The MP shook his head as if that wasn’t worthy of a reply. ‘I noticed you were sitting next to Mr Grant’s research officer just now,’ he said.‘How long have you known Mr Grant?’
‘A . . . a couple of weeks, perhaps.’
‘Have you visited his offices?’
Another image of Hadden-Vane came into Kathy’s mind as she was listening to this, of the MP leaving the concert, and leaning in to give his little bow to Kerrie, Grant’s office manager, and the
woman’s oddly vivacious response.
‘Yes, once or twice.’
‘In connection with what?’
‘I think you should ask him, sir.’
‘I’m asking you, and let me remind you that if you attempt to mislead the committee you will be in contempt of the House.’
‘He felt I might be interested in some information he had been collecting, on crime in his constituency.’
‘What kind of crime?’
‘Drugs, violent crimes,Yardie gangs.’
‘And also the business activities of the Roach family, am I right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he ask for access to police information?’
Tom hesitated, then said,‘Yes.’
‘And you obliged.’
‘No.’
‘But you gave him the material you stole from Ms A’s house?’
‘That was the first time.’
‘With the knowledge of your superiors?’
‘No.’
Hadden-Vane gave a sigh of satisfaction, took a drink from the glass of water in front of him, sat back and mopped his brow with the blue handkerchief.‘Thank you.’
Now the others came in like a vengeful chorus.Was it commonplace for Special Branch officers to carry out investigations without the knowledge of their superiors? How many other innocent citizens’ homes had he broken into? How many other documents had he forged? Tom answered in a stoic monotone, until finally they had exhausted the possibilities and seemed satisfied, at which point Margaret Hart declared a recess.
At Queen Anne’s Gate the watchers sat back in stunned silence. Someone muttered ‘Bastards’, as if to put on record the general outrage at what had been done to Tom, but it was said without much conviction, for they all felt contaminated by what Tom had apparently done, and failed to do.
‘What got into him?’ someone asked, and then Bren, shaking his head, said,‘And how did that smug bastard get all that stuff in just two days?’
He turned to Brock.‘It was the Roaches, yes? They must have fed it to him.’
Brock nodded.
‘But why did they want to crucify Tom?’
‘It’s not Tom they’re after, Bren. They’re not finished yet.’ Brock checked his watch and got stiffly to his feet.‘I’d better make some calls.’
‘Madam Chair,’ Michael Grant said, sounding bereft of any real hope, ‘I ask that we suspend this matter for a few days. My colleague’s revelations this morning, if they’re true, have been as disturbing to me as to the rest of the committee, and I need time to frame a response to his questions.’
‘By all means,’ Hadden-Vane responded, with a shark’s smile. ‘After you’ve heard all of my questions.We know the “What” and the “How”. But we still have to consider the “Why”.’
Grant tried to object, but it was clear that the committee was against him.
‘I’m sorry,Michael,’Hart ruled.‘Nigel is right.We need to get all the issues out on the table.’
‘Thank you. You see, the real mystery is why a Member of Parliament, aided by a rogue police officer, would go to such lengths to malign a family of successful and respectable British businessmen. Now it is true that this family came from humble beginnings and that some of its members were involved in their youth in minor misdemeanours. They paid their debts, learned their lessons and devoted their talents to legitimate enterprises, but perhaps there are still members of the Metropolitan Police Service who resent that success and would like to settle old scores.’
A warning to Brock? Kathy wondered.
‘Perhaps Inspector Reeves thought that he could score career points in some quarters by his actions, who knows? But why would the Member for Lambeth North encourage such a thing? Indeed, why does he maintain a research office at taxpayers’ expense that seems largely devoted to trying to find links between the Roach family businesses and the Yardies and drug dealers in his constituency?
‘Mr Grant has never hidden the intensely personal nature of his campaigns against drugs and crime, and I think we’re entitled to ask if there is perhaps some private reason for his attacks on the Roach family. After all, he knew them as a young immigrant in South London, living in the same area where they ran several small businesses. I asked myself if perhaps that was where the roots of this animosity lay, and so I took it upon myself to speak to one or two people who might be able to shed light on our dilemma. I wish to call one of them as my final witness. I believe the committee will find his testimony both credible and illuminating. His name is Father Terry Maguire.’
Margaret Hart looked puzzled. Kathy remembered seeing her talking to Father Maguire at the concert and thought she must be wondering, as Kathy herself was, why Hadden-Vane would want to call such an excellent character witness for his opponent.
‘Do you have any objection, Mr Grant?’ Hart asked.
Grant looked equally mystified. He shrugged and said no.
The priest was led into the room and shown to the witness seat. He looked somewhat overwhelmed by the setting, and beamed with relief at seeing the familiar faces of Margaret Hart and especially Michael Grant. As with each of the witnesses, the Chair thanked him for attending and explained the circumstances.