Beyond Reach (34 page)

Faraday gazed at her. This was nonsense but it was clever nonsense.

‘We’re still talking the Proceeds of Crime Act?’

‘We are.’

‘With regard to money laundering?’

‘Indeed.’

‘Then I don’t understand. If you’re anticipating some kind of action on our part with regard to money laundering what does that have to do with the kidnap?’

‘It has everything to do with it, Mr Faraday. My clients are in no state to make rational decisions. In Mr Winter’s judgement, and in mine, there have been business oversights on their part that require addressing.’

‘But why the urgency? Why now?’

‘Because we don’t wish to add to their problems. And neither, I assume, do you.’

This was doubly clever. Nelly Tien was playing the human rights card. Faraday turned his attention to Winter. Either he’d got wind of tomorrow morning’s arrests or he’d simply worked it out for himself. The latter was by no means beyond him. As ever, he was ahead of the game.

Faraday told her to carry on. Under the circumstances, short of throwing them out he could do little else. She pulled a notepad from her briefcase, announced the date, time and persons present for the benefit of the tape, and invited Winter to make his report on the family’s behalf. Faraday’s living room had become an interview suite.

Winter went through the Baiona property deal. How, in good faith, Mackenzie and his daughter had mounted a bid for a hotel in the Galician resort of Baiona. How the agreed price had obliged Mackenzie to seek a partner to spread his risk. And how a local introduction had brought another British businessman to the table. His name was Alan Garfield and he’d put up a million euros.

‘You’ll want to know where that money came from, Mr Faraday.’ Tien turned to Winter. ‘Paul?’

‘Garfield has a casino in Richmond upon Thames. We checked it out. It exists. He owns it.’

‘So the money came from there, as far as my clients were aware. Are you clear about that, Mr Faraday?’

Faraday nodded. He was still looking at Winter.

‘Go on,’ he said.

Winter obliged. ‘As far as we were concerned, the deal was done. Then Mr Mackenzie heard a whisper that Garfield had been arrested on Class A supply charges. This was Saturday.’

‘Whisper?’

‘Information. Intel. From our point of view, of course, we couldn’t afford to ignore it. It’s a sweet deal on offer in Baiona but the last thing we need is tainted money to make it work.’

‘So what happened?’

‘Mr Mackenzie’s daughter was already down there. For reasons you know about, her private life’s a bit of a mess just now. Communication with her dad isn’t all it should be. She didn’t know about Garfield’s arrest, about the possibility of dirty money, and there was every chance she’d signed the deal.’

Winter described his own mad dash to Baiona. His boss wanted nothing more to do with Garfield. Winter’s job was to torpedo the deal.

‘And?’

‘It was messy. The contracts had been signed. It was a question of getting them back.’

‘From whom?’

‘Garfield’s missus and their lawyer.’

‘So what happened?’

‘We recovered the property.’ Winter shot a look at Nelly Tien. She gestured for him to carry on. ‘Like I say, it was messy. We had a couple of blokes with us. We caught up with Garfield’s missus at the airport. The lawyer took a bit of a slapping, I admit, but there you go …’

Faraday could picture the scene only too clearly. No wonder the lawyer had turned up at the rental desk in a bit of a state.

‘This is standard business practice?’ Faraday enquired drily.

‘Not at all, Mr Faraday.’ Tien shook her head. ‘What my client is trying to establish are the lengths to which he and his colleagues will go to stay within the law. In this case they were acutely aware of their disclosure responsibilities under the money-laundering regulations and were doing their very best to comply.’

‘Assault is a crime,’ Faraday pointed out. ‘You’re telling me they broke one law to comply with another?’

‘That’s your interpretation, Mr Faraday. I need hardly add that we don’t agree. Means serve ends, in this case the right ends.’

‘So why didn’t you make a report?’ Faraday had returned to Winter.

‘About what?’

‘About the dodgy money?’

‘This was Sunday night, boss. We had to be sure about Garfield being under arrest. That took most of Monday. That night, which was last night, the boy got lifted.’ He lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘And since then it’s been chaos.’

‘So here you are?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Playing it by the book?’

‘Yeah, and doing our bit for law and order.’ He sat back and grinned. ‘Any chance of a drink?’

 

It was gone midnight when Faraday got through to Willard. His mobile was on divert. The third call to the landline at his Winchester address brought him to the phone. He’d obviously been asleep. Faraday had to go through parts of the story twice.

‘So what are you telling me, Joe?’

‘I’m telling you they’ve complied, sir. A day late, they admit, but the brief is pleading extenuating circumstances. We could still arrest them first thing but there might be consequences.’

‘Like?’

‘Like the brief would probably go public. Oppressive behaviour on our part. She used the word “vindictive” before she left. You can imagine the headlines - FAMILY IN TORMENT ARRESTED AT DAWN
.
’

‘Fuck the headlines. What do we do?’

‘That’s your call, sir, not mine.’

‘Have you been in touch with DCI Parsons?’

‘Yes. She told me to talk to you.’

Willard grunted something Faraday didn’t catch. The full implications of this latest news were beginning to catch up with him. Winter appeared to have admitted everything. What was there left to talk about?

‘They’ve committed an offence, Joe. We can have them for that.’

‘Early doors, then? The way we’ve planned it?’

‘No. You’re right. We need something else.’

WEDNESDAY, 28 MAY 2008. 08.12

To Winter’s surprise, Bazza turned up for breakfast. He’d raided the fridge at home and presented Winter with eggs, half a pound of Waitrose bacon, a tin of baked beans and fresh croissants from a bakery in Southsea. Expecting a major hangover from last night, Winter found himself trying to cope with Bazza at his most cheerful. Another surprise.

‘I had Nelly on the mobe, mush. She told me how savvy you’d been.’

Winter had yet to break the news about his late-night visit to the Bargemaster’s House. The fact that Nelly Tien had spared him the trouble came as a bit of a relief. Bazza hated his staff going off-piste.

‘You OK with that, Baz?’ Winter was breaking eggs into the frying pan.

‘Totally. Nelly said we just snuck in under the wire. I told her to blame it on you.’

‘Cheers.’

‘Seriously, mush, I owe you.’ He picked up Winter’s copy of the
Daily Telegraph
and turned to the sports pages but quickly got bored. Sport wasn’t sport without football.

Winter gave one of the eggs a poke. ‘How’s things at home?’

‘Crap. Stu’s moping around like a five-year-old and Ezzie’s still got the hump. I tell you something, mush. Grown-ups these days are like kids. Life gives you a smack or two and you stay on your feet. I’m surprised about Stu. I thought there was more to him.’

‘He’s had a bit of a shock, Baz. Can’t be easy, all this.’

‘Yeah, but you fight it, don’t you? Get in there. Try and sort something out.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like his bloody missus for a start. He’s got a problem there. He says he’s still crazy about her and I believe him. But no way will he get Ez back by playing the wuss. He’s looking for sympathy, I can see it, but he hasn’t got a prayer. Ez doesn’t do sympathy, never has, and if Stu thinks otherwise then he must have his head even further up his arse than I thought.’

‘What’s happened to Madison?’

‘No idea. She won’t talk about him.’

‘You think he’s still around?’

‘Yeah. She makes a lot of fucking calls on that mobe of hers.’ He folded the paper and tossed it onto the windowsill. From the kitchen there was a fine view of the Spinnaker Tower. ‘Tell you something, mush.’

‘What?’

‘That Mo Sturrock’s a find. Marie says the kids have fallen in love with him.’

‘How long did he stay last night?’

‘He never went. Marie made a bed up and he kipped over. He’s the only sane one left standing. Good bloke. Fucking sound.’ He turned back from the view. His breakfast was nearly ready. ‘So what about Garfield, then? You think we’ve got all that squared away?’

Winter hoisted an egg onto a wedge of toast. He loved the ‘we’. Half a day ago Mackenzie wouldn’t listen to a word he was saying. Now, for whatever reason, they were suddenly on the same wavelength.

‘No, Baz. They’ve had a knock-back. They’ll still be keen to nail us. None of that will go away.’

‘Ever?’

Something in his voice brought Winter’s head up. He returned the frying pan to the hob.

‘That’s right, Baz. They’ll never give up.’

‘On Garfield, you mean?’

‘Of course. And what happened with Westie too.’

‘Westie’s nothing. We had the guy shot.’

‘You had the guy shot.’

‘We, mush. But the spics have got fuck all. They’re playing games. Ignore them. It’ll all go away.’

Winter knew this was bullshit. You didn’t end up on an airport watch list without good reason. He put the laden plate on the breakfast bar and found Mackenzie a stool. Baz was standing by the window, staring out. Something else was bothering him.

‘What’s the matter, Baz? What else haven’t you told me?’

‘Nothing, mush.’ Mackenzie did his best to look shocked. ‘Nothing at all.’

 

Faraday had organised a conference in Craneswater for ten o’clock. He picked up Suttle from his office and drove to Sandown Road. Stu’s Porsche was still in the drive. There was no sign of Mackenzie’s Bentley.

Marie met them at the door. Stu was waiting in the lounge, talking to Helen Christian. When Faraday said he wanted Esme to join them, Marie went upstairs to fetch her. She’d had a rotten night, Marie said, and was trying to catch up on her sleep.

She took an age to appear. Marie served coffee, and when one of the kids wandered in Suttle got down on the carpet with her and started leafing through her picture book. The child was finally rescued by a tall, lean stranger Faraday had never met before. His feet were bare and his long hair, threaded with grey, was secured with a twist of scarlet ribbon.

Helen Christian did the introductions.

‘This is Mo Sturrock,’ she said. ‘He’s a friend of the family.’

‘Employee more like.’ Sturrock extended a hand towards Faraday. ‘You’ve heard of Tide Turn Trust?’

Faraday nodded. In the wake of last year’s double homicide the Trust had been Mackenzie’s gift to the community, a bid to rein in the city’s wilder youth.

‘You’re part of all that?’

‘I’m down to run it.’

‘As of when?’

‘Pretty much now. Give or take.’

‘And you’ve been in the field a while?’

‘All my working life.’

‘Not fed up?’

‘Never.’

Faraday wished him luck. Esme had appeared at the door. She’d thrown on a pair of jeans and an old Pompey top that was much too big for her. Her hair was tousled and there were flecks of last night’s mascara in the pouches under her eyes.

‘I know. I look a wreck.’ She shrugged. ‘Too bad.’

Faraday asked Sturrock to leave. He waited for Marie to return with fresh coffee from the kitchen then got down to business. One or two leads had presented themselves. He was going to hand over to D/S Suttle for more details.

Suttle described the operation they’d been mounting in the villages close to Stu and Esme’s property. In the small hours of Tuesday morning, traffic on the A32, which ran the length of the valley, had been light. From four CCTV cameras they’d recovered details of every vehicle on the road between midnight and 3 a.m. Follow-up checks were virtually complete and in every case the
Causeway
team had ruled out any connection with the kidnap. This, said Suttle, was itself significant.

‘Why?’ It was Stu.

‘Because it suggests that the kidnappers knew the area really well. They knew where the cameras were. They knew which roads to avoid.’

‘But a decent recce would tell you that.’

‘You’re right, it would. But if we’re looking to eliminate Al Garfield then this would be a major pointer.’

Esme began to take an interest. How come Suttle knew about Garfield?

‘Mr Faraday had a long conversation with Paul Winter last night. It seems you had something of a run-in with the guy.’

‘That was Paul, not me.’

‘So it’s true?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s what we assumed. In these cases we look for motive. Garfield’s wife and lawyer would have been pretty upset. Garfield himself is out on police bail. He might be looking for payback, sure, but to organise a kidnap like this and miss all those cameras he’d need more than a day to sort it. Are you with me?’

Esme nodded. For once, she glanced at Stu, who was studying his hands.

‘What else have you got for us?’ he muttered.

‘We’ve been doing checks on the Sex Offenders Register. I’m afraid it’s standard procedure in cases like this.’

‘You think this guy might be a paedophile?’ Stu looked up.

‘It’s possible. Unlikely but possible.’

‘Why unlikely?’

‘Because of the way he handled the abduction. The man we’re dealing with is extremely organised. Sex offenders tend to be more impulsive. They’ll spot an opportunity and go for it. That’s not what’s happened here.’