This had been the seventh time of saying something similar in the last forty-eight hours. As SIO, Henry thought it only right and proper for him to visit the immediate families of all the victims, those of the security guards, and those of Thompson and Elphick, and to make this promise to them. When he spoke to Elphick’s father, though, he had not really meant the words, because he was glad the bastard was dead.
Drozdov said, ‘Thank you for that.’
‘ However…’ Henry went on.
‘ Ahh.’ The old man raised his head knowingly. ‘Here comes the “but”’
‘ No, no buts. What I want to say is this. I know full well who you are and what you are, Mr Drozdov. What I want to do is make a plea. I know that you and your organisation are probably capable of tracking down and killing the person you think is responsible for Nikolai’s death. I beg you not to do that. If you do know who is responsible, please feed that information to me and let the legal process take its course. Let me convict the offender. Let them suffer a life in prison. Killing is too good for such a person, too easy.. ’ Henry’s words drifted away.
‘ An interesting little speech,’ Drozdov said with a trace of pity. ‘You make assumptions about me which could be upsetting. But, in the confines of this car, I will admit you are correct. It is the plan for my “organisation”, as you call it, to hunt down and destroy Nikolai’s murderer. You see, in Russia, we believe blood for blood. Whoever killed my grandson will die for it. I have already lost my son in similar circumstances. I allowed the Russian police to use the due process of law on that occasion and the killer was acquitted on a technicality — which told me the friends of the killer paid the judge more than I.’ Drozdov pushed his thick glasses up to the bridge of his nose. ‘That judge judges no more. So my faith in the law, if I had any to begin with, was not justified and the man who killed my son met a very messy end.’
‘ This is British justice, not Russian justice,’ Henry argued, jolted by hearing such revelations — two admissions of murder in one breath — and feeling powerless to do anything about it.
‘ Then there is an even greater likelihood of failure. If the corrupt Russian system did not convict my son’s killer, how can I hope that a fair and just system will be any different?’
‘ I will ensure it.’
‘ How? Shall I bribe you?’ chuckled Drozdov.
‘ That won’t be necessary,’ Henry said coldly. ‘I will ensure it by means of my skills as a detective and the skills of my team. Your grandson’s killer will be tried and convicted. I guarantee it.’
‘ I’m afraid your guarantee is worthless.’
‘ So you will not do as I ask?’
Drozdov leaned back and closed his eyes. Henry thought he had fallen asleep, but then he said, ‘No, but I will offer you a compromise of sorts. If you arrest the man who killed Nikolai before I get to him, I will allow British justice to run its course. However, if there is an acquittal, he will die; if he is convicted and sent to prison, he will be allowed to serve the term imposed by the court. On his release, he will die, even though by that time I will be dead myself. At ninety-one there are not many years left for anyone, but his death will be my legacy for Nikolai.’
‘ That is not very helpful. You are saying that whatever happens, he is a dead man.’
‘ Yes, that is all I can offer. I am an old man in grief. I want revenge. It is as simple as that.’ He touched Henry’s knee. ‘You are a good man, Henry Christie, but I live in a different world with different values and you should understand that.’
Henry shook his head despondently. It had been worth a try, to get Drozdov on his side, but he had half-expected the response and he wasn’t unduly surprised. The sooner he got back to the MIR the better. He was involved in a race to catch the killer now. He had to make an arrest before Drozdov’s henchmen struck first, and therefore there was not much time to play with. The slow-moving police machine needed a huge kick up the rear.
‘ What information can you give me?’ Henry asked. ‘What, for example, was Nikolai doing in this country, associating with known criminals?’
‘ Furthering business interests is how I would summarise it.’
‘ Did that include murdering Jacky Lee? Is that one of your methods of “furthering interests”, as you put it?’
‘ Do I detect a trace of anger in your voice, Mr Christie?’
‘ What would be the point of anger?’
‘ Exactly. As I said — different values. We work differently to you… and now, I think I am getting tired of this.’
‘ Me too,’ said Henry. ‘This detective here’ — he pointed to Dave Seymour — ‘will take a short statement from you about your identification of Nikolai’s body, then you may go — but I stick what I said earlier: no one should lose a grandson in such circumstances, even if the grandson was deeply involved in violent crime himself. Because of that, I will not falter in my efforts to bring this killer to justice and unravel the sordid goings-on behind it all.’ Henry raised his eyebrows. ‘Different values.’
He got out of the car.
Whilst waiting for Seymour to take the statement, Henry drifted into the mortuary and found himself standing by the fridges in which the bodies were stored. He could not resist pulling out the sliding tray on which Gunk Elphick’s body was resting after the post-mortem. He was wrapped in a linen shroud. Henry looked round to see he wasn’t being watched and unravelled the shroud from around Gunk’s head.
Henry simply wanted to wish him one last thing.
‘ Rot in hell, you evil bastard.’ Childish, he knew. Nor did it achieve anything. But it made him feel much, much better.
With a signal from one motorcyclist to the other, the police escort pulled away from the mortuary. Henry and Dave Seymour watched it leave.
‘ Let’s get back to Headquarters,’ Henry said quickly and climbed into the firm’s Mondeo.
In the back seat of the traffic car, Alexandr Drozdov spoke quietly into the ear of his bodyguard, whispering two words. ‘Yuri Ivankov.’
Less than three-quarters of an hour later, the two detectives drove into police Headquarters. Henry, at the wheel, drove past the front of the HQ building on his right, the sports-field on his left. The grass still bore the charred, vivid scars where the Force helicopter had been destroyed. The wreckage had been removed piecemeal to the Forensic Science Lab down at Euxton, near Chorley, and was being examined by experts there. First indications fed to the MIR were that a couple of grenades were responsible for blowing the machine to smithereens.
Henry drove over the speed ramps too quickly, jarring the unsuspecting Seymour out of his seat, and headed towards the LEC building which had been commandeered by Henry and his Murder Squad — now totalling forty officers and support staff — for the enquiry. He stopped in the yellow hatch markings outside the front door and abandoned the dirty Mondeo there. Inside he went directly to the main room which was being used for the incident. Danny and several others were working away, heads buried in masses of paper.
‘ Danny,’ he called across the room. ‘Got a minute? Pretty urgent.’
She grimaced and held her hands wide as if to say, ‘I am busy, you know.’
‘ Aren’t we all,’ he said. ‘Come on,’ and gestured her out.
‘ OK, boss,’ she said with resignation.
‘ And bring everything,’ he instructed as an afterthought — although he wasn’t specific as to what ‘everything’ actually meant. He ducked out of the room and went to the one he had claimed as his office, throwing his jacket over a chair and helping himself to a coffee from the filter machine. He thudded down into his chair, mind churning.