Death By Dangerous (4 page)

Anderson joined Connor, Tilly and other members of chambers around one of the tables in the advocates' canteen. Tilly had saved him a seat, much to Connor's annoyance.

‘John, couple of things I wanted to mention,' said Head of Chambers, Orlando West QC, across the table. ‘One's a bit sensitive. In chambers, after court?' he asked with a wink.

‘Of course,' Anderson agreed, remembering his commitment to Will's football match.

‘And the other,' said West, raising his voice so everyone could hear, ‘is that I've just got the Ted Harrison murder. Thought you might like the junior brief?'

Anderson didn't hesitate: ‘I don't know what to say. Yes, please.'

Connor almost choked on his sandwich. He never ceased to be amazed by West's favouritism.

Drawing the rest of the table in with a knowing smile, West continued: ‘We need to keep our future silks on the boil at Spinningfields Chambers.'

Anderson could feel Tilly's knee pushing against his. No doubt about it, she wanted him.

‘I'll need a brief synopsis by morning,' said West. ‘Got a con at eleven with the CPS. Don't worry, they know you're part heard.'

This time Anderson did hesitate, remembering his commitment to Will. Then: ‘No problem.' He glanced away to digest the betrayal. Trying to distract himself, he noticed Hussain sitting alone at another table, eating a packed lunch whilst engrossed in some notes, oblivious to the laughing and joking going on around him.

West's eyes followed Anderson's. ‘You're not home yet, John. He might lack integrity, but he's not without ability.'

‘I know,' Anderson replied.

‘All rise!' cried the usher.

His Honour Judge Pounder came into court.

Only Hussain remained on his feet. His nerves were fighting to show themselves. Understandable – a demanding client and a difficult cross-examination to conduct in front of a packed courtroom. All sympathies would lie with the witness. He took a deep breath and told himself that he was an advocate equal to the challenge. ‘Mr Tredwell, firstly, I would like to offer my deepest sympathies.'

Tredwell gave an imperceptible nod, but wasn't fooled by Hussain's gesture; he knew not to let his guard down.

‘And I make it clear that nothing I will suggest to you in my cross-examination seeks in any way to undermine the terrible injuries and the suffering which you have endured.'

Another nod.

‘But I will speak plainly, Mr Tredwell.' A deep breath. ‘You haven't told the truth to this jury, have you?'

‘Yes, I have,' Tredwell replied, managing not to lose his cool.

‘Let us assume for a moment that your account is true. The love of your life, who you say wanted to marry you, rang the police and gave them information which would inevitably start a chain of events that would culminate in your arrest for controlling prostitution.'

The witness considered the question. ‘I've pleaded guilty to that offence.'

‘We know, but that's not an answer to my question. Why would your fiancée want you to get caught?'

‘She didn't. My safety was more important to her. She must have been worried that something had happened to me at the takeaway, when I told Ahmed about us.'

‘Why didn't she tell the police that?'

‘With the greatest of respect, Your Honour,' Anderson interjected, ‘how can this witness answer as to what someone else was thinking during a telephone call at the making of which he was not present.'

‘I agree, Mr Anderson.'

‘Very well, I'll rephrase the question,' offered Hussain. ‘Do you accept that there is nothing in that telephone call that makes any reference to you being in a relationship with the maker?'

‘Yes.'

‘It is equally consistent with the maker of the call giving information that would lead to your arrest?'

Anderson was up again. ‘That is comment, Your Honour.'

Hussain asked another question before Anderson could slow him down: ‘You see, none of the women from the house that made statements ever said anything about you being in a relationship with Naila.'

‘That's because we kept it a secret. Too dangerous to tell anyone.'

‘But they all remember you collecting money from them.'

‘I've admitted to that.'

‘None of them mention ever meeting or being aware of the defendant, Waqar Ahmed.'

‘He kept his distance. That's what bosses do.'

‘The only evidence that he is anything other than the legitimate owner of a takeaway called the Kashmiri Palace – is you.'

‘I'm telling the truth!'

‘You've made up Bilal, haven't you? No such person ever worked there.'

Tredwell shook his head.

‘There are no employee records or any other documents to prove his existence.'

‘Ahmed never kept records. All cash in hand.'

‘I suggest that when the police arrested you at the Palace, you knew that you were off to prison for the large scale trafficking of prostitutes.'

Tredwell didn't bother to respond.

‘So you decided to fit up my client?'

Again, Tredwell shook his head.

‘Please answer the question, Mr Tredwell,' asked the judge. ‘For the tape.'

‘I didn't fit anyone up. I wasn't in any condition to be thinking like that when they found me.'

Hussain pressed on: ‘You used the Palace as a base for your criminal activities − because you are a local gangster that can do what you like. Mr Ahmed paid you protection money because he was terrified of what you might do.'

Tredwell laughed at the suggestion. ‘When did you think this up?'

‘By pleading guilty and turning Queen's evidence against a co-defendant you knew it would keep you out of jail.'

‘Rubbish.'

‘Well, you did know turning QE would keep you out of jail. We can agree on that, can't we?'

‘No promises were made.'

‘But your lawyers must have advised you?'

‘They said I had a chance of staying out. But that's not why I did it. It's for this,' he said, pointing at his face.

‘My client has no idea how your injuries were sustained. A man in your line of business must have plenty of enemies, Mr Tredwell?'

‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘Whoever caused that also gave you the perfect foundation on which to blame my client and get yourself off the hook. Every cloud has a silver lining, does it not?'

‘Mr Hussain!' exclaimed the judge. ‘That really is a step too far.'

Without offering an apology, Hussain sat down.

Anderson got up to re-examine. It had to be good. The case hung in the balance.

Connor wanted his leader to make a mess of it, even if it meant losing the case. That was the depth of his jealousy and hatred of the man.

‘Mr Tredwell, one thing on which the prosecution and defence agree is that you were given sums of money by the women. Monies they had earned for sexual services?'

‘Yes.'

‘Mr Hussain asserts that this was your criminal enterprise. Your operation. He also says people paid you protection money. So where is all the money?'

Tredwell understood the point. ‘There isn't any.'

‘Do you own a house?'

‘I wish.'

‘Where were you living when all this happened?'

‘In a room above the Palace.'

‘A room above the Palace.' Anderson glanced off to the jury. ‘Do you own a car, Mr Tredwell?'

‘No.'

‘Do you have a bank or building society account of any sort?'

‘No.'

‘What do you own, Mr Tredwell?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Mr Anderson, have those enquiries been made by the Crown?' asked the judge.

‘They have, Your Honour. Any evidence of wealth would have been disclosed to Mr Hussain. There's nothing. I have no further questions.'

‘Yes, thank you,' replied the judge. ‘Thank you, Mr Tredwell. Quite an ordeal for you I think. This Court is most grateful to you.'

‘Your Honour,' said Anderson, now in full control of the trial. ‘We now move on to the police interviews, which my junior, Mr Connor, will read to the jury.'

Connor begrudgingly got to his feet for the mundane task whilst his leader accepted the whispered congratulations of the rest of the team.

With a good closing speech Anderson felt sure he was home and dry.

4.30pm. The judge rose. Anderson was shattered. The sustained adrenalin levels and nervous energy of a full day in court always took its toll on trial counsel.

Connor and Tilly followed Anderson out of the building on the short walk across Spinningfields back to chambers. He checked his watch. If he was going to make Will's football match he would have to leave
now
. But what about Orlando West? There was something West wanted to tell him. Maybe more good news? About his silk application? He couldn't let West down. He thought of Will standing there on the landing that morning. The sadness in his cherubic face, longing for attention. Anderson tried to block out the image. He was doing all this for them. To secure their future. ‘Right, who wants a coffee before we go back to the ranch?' he asked, finally letting his appointment go.

‘Not for me, I've got too much to do,' replied Connor, uninterested in anything vaguely social with his leader.

Tilly hesitated. ‘Sorry, I've got to get off – if that's all right with you, Connor?'

‘No problem,' replied her pupil-master, relieved that she had chosen to reject Anderson's offer. ‘See you tomorrow, Tilly.'

Anderson hid his disappointment and headed off inside the coffee shop and ordered an Americano.

‘Is that to go?' asked the barista.

‘No, I'll have it here,' Anderson replied, catching sight of a discarded copy of the
Manchester Evening News
on one of the tables. He moved over to it and flicked through looking for a report on the case. Only a short column on page 16. Maybe tomorrow's reporting of Tredwell's evidence would do better, he thought. He retrieved his coffee and slumped wearily onto a sofa by the window, took out his iPhone and began to plough through the day's emails.

‘I changed my mind.' Tilly dropped onto the seat beside him and bestowed an intimate smile.

Anderson could feel his heart beating. ‘Great, what do you want?' he said, jumping up.

‘Skinny chai tea latte, please.'

He watched her from the counter whilst he waited for the drink. A beautiful young woman, curves in all the right places. Clever too – hiding her disloyalty from Connor like that. Should he make a move on her? How? He wasn't good in personal situations. She would have to hand it to him on a plate.

He took her tea over.

‘I thought you were superb in court today, John,' she began. ‘I'm learning so much during this trial.'

‘Pleased to hear it,' Anderson replied.

‘I'd be so grateful for anything else you could teach me. Anything at all.' A rush of excitement – he was on the verge of suggesting they meet up later, after he'd seen West and done his synopsis. But what about Mia? Why was he even considering it? There had been problems for some time. They hadn't had sex for months. Or was it years? Deep down, he knew she didn't love him. Never had. Anderson's job and parentage had just ticked the right boxes, nothing more.

Anderson craved a connection with someone and Tilly seemed prepared to fulfil that role. This was exactly what he needed. No one would ever know. ‘Tilly, I've got to pop back to chambers for a bit, then perhaps we…'

Her eyes lit up. She leaned in to hear more.

Anderson could smell her perfume, glimpse her breasts nestled under her white blouse. Instinctively, he checked around himself for prying eyes. Something caught his attention, outside, across the road. Hussain, greeting a woman, probably his wife. And two young daughters. Hussain lifted one of them up onto his shoulders. All laughing. A happy family.

Hussain met Anderson's gaze, only for a split second, then they were away as Hussain steered them up the street.

Anderson suddenly felt a fool. Ridiculous. What was he doing? Thinking? He looked at his young companion, then stood up, knocking over the remains of his coffee in the process. ‘I'm sorry, I've just remembered something,' he said. ‘I've got to go. See you tomorrow,' he added on his way out.

Confused, Tilly had no time to react.

Outside in the cold winter air, Anderson felt a sense of relief. He took out his mobile and rang chambers: ‘Gary, it's me. I've got an urgent appointment – a personal matter.'

‘What about the Harrison papers? Mr West needs a synopsis.'

‘Tell him not to worry. I'll be in at 5am. I'll have it done.'

Anderson found himself jogging to the car park, chastising himself for the time he'd wasted in the coffee shop. Lusting after a girl fifteen years his junior, when he had a wife and children waiting for him at home. What a bloody idiot he'd been lately. The whole silk thing had taken over his life. He'd lost his perspective. Maybe he'd take his foot off the gas, spend more time with the kids. Find a way to reach out to Mia. Maybe even fall in love.

He could still make it.

It wasn't too late. Anderson knew what he wanted – more than ever.