One Last Lesson (30 page)

He pushed the chair back, clunked his size nines on the desk and stared at the ceiling tiles.
Here was something that dogged police work time and again. Here was a violent man, graduating up the crime ladder from sexual assaults to rape and now up another rung to murder and he wondered how difficult it would be for that veritable army of psychologists, psychiatrists, behavioural scientists, sociologists, and the rest of the crew working with these people, to give folks like him the heads-up on which criminals they were releasing from prison, posed the greatest danger to the public.

He was so deep in thought, he was unaware Chief Inspector Harris
was now in his office and jumped when he suddenly said, ‘Good morning Angus.’

He took his feet off the desk and looked at him with some astonishment which he hoped was
n’t noticeable as it was such a rare sight to see Harris anywhere near his office if a phone call or email would do.

‘Good morning, sir. Sorry about that I was... cogitating.’

‘That’s laudable Angus. We all need to make time to think now and again.’

He sat down on the visitor’s chair and dumped
the papers he was carrying on the desk. His hair was, as usual neatly combed, perhaps to detract from a rugged, pockmarked face that had seen too much sun or the result of a teenage skin complaint. His salary wasn’t that much of a hike up from his, but Harris wore much nicer clothes than he did and today it was a crisply pressed, dark blue suit, white shirt and yellow striped tie, but then he was married to a highly paid accountant.

‘So, how are you
, sir?’

‘I’m fine
Angus, especially now that you seem to have this case well wrapped up. Capturing Samuels is what police work is all about, intuitive deductions followed by face-to-face interviews.’

‘Thank you sir, but there
’s still the small matter of finding and arresting Martin Cope.’

‘I know, I know and that was what I wanted to talk to you about.’

‘Good.’

‘Yes. So, what arrangements have you made to bring him back safely?’

‘I’ll take three members of my team and four uniforms to Gatwick on Sunday. I will of course inform the airport authorities and request the help of airport security to get us as close to the aircraft as possible, if not inside. Naturally, I’ll inform our armed response team at the airport as to what’s going on but I don’t anticipate asking or needing their assistance.’

‘That sounds a good plan but I
’d like to introduce a little... alteration.’

‘What do you have in mind?’

‘I want you to go out to Portugal and shadow Cope, make sure he gets on that plane.’

‘I don’t understand
, sir. I thought we were trying to save money.’

He waved his hand dismissive
ly. ‘Don’t you worry about that as there’s enough in the pot to pay for this trip. I’ll spend whatever it takes to get that man into custody.’

He was about to throw in another objection
but he stopped. If Harris wanted to send him to Portugal, why would he complain?

‘My secretary has already booked the hotel and airline tickets,’ he said
, pushing a small pile of papers towards him. ‘She’s booked you and DS Hobbs into a nice little place, close to the seafront at Portimão and not far from the resort where Cope is staying. Your flight leaves at five tonight.’

For such a dismal day that attracted few holidaymakers onto the seafront in Brighton, Gatwick Airport was packed with a rich assortment of school trips, backpackers and family groups all heading out to sunnier climes for an Easter break. Henderson and Hobbs checked in and made it through security with enough time left to stop for a beer before the flight.

Hobbs headed to bar while Henderson
carried their bags to an empty table. When he sat down, he realised it was his first opportunity to relax since Steve Harris left his office earlier today. His first job immediately afterwards was to brief the team on his movements over the next couple of days and he outlined what he expected them to have completed by the time he returned. Then, he headed over to Hove with some shopping that he picked up in Asda, said goodbye to Rachel and rushed over to his flat in Seven Dials to pack a bag.

He was keen to read
the transcripts of the interviews with the Brighton cab drivers that knew Cope, and photocopied as many of them as he could and took them away with him. If the investigation team took the Portugal news with an element of surprise, particularly at Harris’s uncustomary U-turn, while at the same acknowledging that it was the right thing to do, Rachel did not see it so stoically.

His
quick dash around the supermarket filled a trolley with enough fresh vegetables, milk and meat to feed her for a week, never mind the three days he would be away. In part, she was pissed off that he was swanning off to the sun while she was trapped in damp and dismal Hove, where the weather was stuck in a groove like an old LP record, alternating between pissing wet and bitingly cold, but also because she was losing her main helper and companion. A few phone calls later, she persuaded a colleague from the Argus to look in a couple of times over the next few days, and as soon as the call ended, she looked and sounded very much happier.

He didn’t expect to find a decent pint of ale in a busy place like Gatwick but the dark liquid Hobbs brought back from the bar at Lloyds No1 was palatable enough and after downing half, he felt more relaxed
than he did two hours ago but if his afternoon was stressful, the DS’s was chaotic by comparison.

He was the father of two young children, a surprise to him as his first marriage
remained childless, but his feisty Colombian wife, Catalina was well pissed off at his disappearing act, just as schools were breaking up for the Easter holidays. He didn’t know if it was due to her Latino temperament or being spoiled as a child but she seemed incapable of adapting to unexpected changes of plan and the relentless disruption to lives and schedules that a major crime investigation demanded. Henderson often wondered if she knew what she was letting herself in for when she married Hobbs and if so, why the hell did she do it?

‘So you’ve got to, repeat, got to, make sure I bring her back something nice and not something I grabbed at the last minute in
the bloody duty free. Otherwise, I’ll be in the spare room for another week.’

‘What,
like a sexually transmitted disease?’

‘That’s not funny
mate. If I did that, she and the kids would disappear to Columbia and I would never see her again. If you know your international law, you’ll be aware that the UK doesn’t have much in the way of bilateral treaties with Columbia and even though we have a few extradition treaties, it would be impossible to get them back from a place like that.’

‘Where did you pick
up that little nugget, your interview with Alan Stark?’

‘
No, but did you know he’s married to a Lithuanian?’

‘
Is he? Well at least they’re in the EC. That comes from being a smart lawyer, he puts practicality before the untidy stuff like love or relationships.’

‘Yeah but don’t let me forget the present.’

‘Hopefully we’ll get some time for sightseeing and shopping in Portimão as Harris has made it clear he doesn’t expect us to watch Cope all day. We’ll go to his place morning and evening and make sure he’s still around.’

‘I know
you said Harris thinks this is the best way to nail Cope, but don’t you think there’s something else behind it?’

‘Like what?’

‘An apology.’

‘For what?’

‘For him being so gung-ho about Mike Ferris.’

‘A lot of people were convinced about him.’

‘He went over the top in my opinion and convinced Walters and a few others into the bargain. Did he agree to the news blackout?’

‘
When Samuels was nicked, we told the papers we had arrested a man in connection with the university murders but we didn’t give them his name as at that point, he was only charged with the dog and driving offenses. When he wouldn’t come clean in the interview, I was all set to throw the book at the smarmy bastard, but I’m glad I didn’t. His name’s not out there as far as I know and Harris will downplay any statements he makes until Cope’s in custody.’

‘
It could be tricky keeping a lid on things after the big deal all the papers have made of it.’

He shrugged. ‘Nothing much we can do about it now. The
y know we’ve arrested someone but they won’t get his name until other enquiries are complete. With the rest of the senior management team behind it and a severe bollocking promised to anybody that steps out of line, I’m sure they’ll give it their best shot.’

‘Well, hopefully that’ll be enough to keep Cope in the dark because he might be thick, but if he finds out that his mate’s up for murder, there’s no way he’ll come back to England.’

Their flight was called and after draining their glasses,
they headed down to the gate. En-route, he picked up a newspaper while Hobbs bought a couple of his favourite chocolate bars, a treat rarely enjoyed at home as his kids demanded their share or nabbed it before he did. Ten minutes after take-off, when the seat belt signs were switched off and they had learned what to do if they landed on water, as if a hundred and twenty tonne plane could land on water anyway, and were informed about all the offers available from the trolley that would be passing through the cabin shortly, Hobbs borrowed his newspaper and unwrapped a chocolate bar while he sifted through the cab driver interviews.

In time, a picture began to emerge of a large, helpful man who could turn aggressive if crossed and unlike many of
his colleagues at the cab firm, preferred to work at night. He was once involved in a fracas with another driver and the injuries he inflicted put the other guy in hospital for a week, but the cab company declined to involve the police as he had been goading Cope about a scarlet birthmark on his face and the general consensus was that he deserved it.

Aside from the conscientious driver stuff and stories about a man
that could fix engines and was handy to have around in a dispute with a non-paying passenger, what was missing were the strong and considered opinions of someone who knew him well. This was in part because all the drivers were self-employed, paying the cab company a fee for the radio system that sent them on jobs and allowing them to use the company colours and logo, but also due to the nature of the work which meant they didn’t get to know one another unless they were former schoolmates or if they socialised together, neither of which applied to Cope.

The flight landed on
schedule and after a quick passage through Passport Control and Customs, they found a cab outside the airport and directed it towards the Vau Hotel, in Enconsta do Vau. Harris promised it would be close to the beach and true to his word it was, but he wasn’t planning to go there, as even though the air was warm, it obviously wasn’t warm enough for an early evening swim as both the hotel’s two swimming pools were deserted.

When he
reached his room, Henderson dumped his bags on the floor and headed into the bathroom for a shower, as he knew if he stretched out on the bed for only five minutes, he would be sound asleep for the next few hours. Feeling refreshed, he descended the stairs and walked into the bar.

H
e turned his phone off before getting on the plane for fear that Steve Harris would call and cancel the trip and not because signals from his little un-smart device would interfere with the aircraft navigation systems and send them to Norway. He ordered a beer and just as soon as it arrived in front of him, a picture-postcard straight glass, one-inch head of foam, patches of condensation clouding the sides, droplets joining together and slowly cascading down, he switched it back on.

He didn’t understand m
any modern gadgets, as they often seemed to have a life of their own, such as his own laptop that took ages to boot up, the Sky-box that refused to switch on until the ‘on’ button was pressed three or four times, and the broadband box which winked provocatively, but failed to provide an internet connection. Now it was his phone making tiny whirring noises as it went through its boot-up routine, or whatever it was called in the mobile world, but rather than stare at it like a geek with no friends or a man that couldn’t bear to look unimportant in a public place, he slipped it into his shirt pocket and let it get on with its business, while he took a look round at his fellow travellers.

The bar was large and modern and
slowly filling with residents after their evening meal; small family groups, elderly couples and overweight men, clearly knackered after a day’s golfing or an evening’s drinking, as many were slumped back in large and sumptuous armchairs looking as though it would take a crane or a fire to shift them.

A
succession of pinging sounds from his shirt pocket indicated that even in this far-flung corner of Europe, he was able to receive new messages. Ah, the wonders of modern technology never ceased to amaze him. He placed his drink on the beer mat and fished it out. There were three. Two were from the local phone company, Optimis welcoming him to their network and a third from Carol. ‘Angus, call the office ASAP.’