CHAPTER NINE
Harry’s fingers began to twitch in the early hours as the huge feeling of paralysis slowly began to lift. He felt awful, much worse than the days spent with a banging headache of late. His thoughts wandered to Becky as he caught sight of the digital alarm on his bedside table. The glass was gone and so was the wine; that was strange. Maybe Becky had come in, disgusted by his comatose condition and lack of virility and had charged back out of the room, it wasn’t one of his better outcomes that was sure.
Then it happened, the unmistakable voice, the cruel vicious sound of pure hatred had suddenly appeared again.
“HARRY, HARRY, HARRY, LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE, LOOK! LOOK!, ISNT IT SPLENDID!” It sounded like a twisted, demented court jester, it was frightening.
The voice came again but it was more menacing and deep this time.
“NOW TURN OVER HARRY AND FACE YOUR GOOD WORK.” He rolled over. It hit him so hard he found he couldn’t take in what he saw.
Lying there next to him was the bloodied body of his assistant, Becky, taped up and bound with her eyes firmly closed. Blood had seeped out of her multiple wounds and into the bed covers. He grasped what felt like a handle and looked down to see a knife caked in blood.
Harry jumped up and started screaming, he tried to take it in, it was sheer blind panic. Oh no, not Becky, his wonderful Becky, oh no, what had he done? How could he have done it, he was asleep wasn’t he?
“BEAUTIFUL JOB HARRY.”
“Shut up you fool, you’re not me! Go away. Oh look what I’ve done!” He was sobbing now. He had destroyed the one thing he had started to nurture, something very close that he hadn’t experienced for a long time, Love.
“OH I WILL GO AWAY HARRY, NOW THAT YOU HAVE ACCOMPLISHED ALL THAT HAS BEEN ASKED OF YOU.”
“What do you mean; all that has been asked of me?” he cried out to no one.
There was no response.
Harry shouted again, “What do you mean, tell me, goddamn you!”
The voice didn’t come back and no more sound was heard except for the unmistakable wail of police sirens that were drawing closer outside.
What could Harry do? How did they know? How could they know? He raced back over to Becky and felt her pulse.
“Oh please Becky, please don’t be dead, please don’t,” Harry started to cry.
He felt a faint ray of hope amongst the dark clouds of doom. She had a pulse, she was barely alive. He ripped the tape from her mouth and pulled off the strips holding her hands and legs. He grabbed his dressing gown tie and applied some pressure onto the more serious wounds. Dialing 999, he shouted for an ambulance just as a load knocking and banging began on the door.
“This is the police, open up!”
He rushed over and frantically opened it and saw two officers burst through followed by a couple more. Catching sight of the horrific scene they bundled Harry to the ground. He screamed out as they pulled his hands round behind him and clapped on handcuffs. The other two officers rushed over to the lifeless woman lying on the bed.
“I can feel a pulse, Rich, radio an ambulance quick!”
Harry screamed out again, “I’ve called one, I didn’t do it I swear, it wasn’t me.”
“You sick bastard, of course it was you,” shouted one of the officers as they searched the entire suite for other guests.
“Clear here. There was no-one else and the door was locked shut, it had to be him.”
“Zulu 7 6 5 Control, request ambulance immediately, Radisson Hotel, one victim, Caucasian female, multiple stab wounds, pulse felt, over.”
Harry was crying now, it was a complete blur. He had fallen asleep; it wasn’t his knife, what was going on?
A second siren was heard and the paramedics would be up the stairs shortly. There was a growing crowd outside wakened by the noise, the officers in the hall were trying to keep order, “Step back please, there is nothing to see, make way for the paramedics please.”
Two green suited people came into the room to attend the victim. From the wounds it seemed unbelievable that she would still be alive. They had seen some things in their time but this was truly a sight to behold.
“Please save her, she’s my only hope,” shouted Harry.
The officers were puzzled at this statement but nonetheless they were looking at Harry, a deranged psychopath as they saw it. Was it a sex game gone wrong? It was hard to tell, she was originally bound for sure and you never knew what these sick people got up to in their spare time. They had seen quite enough of it, that was a given.
The paramedic looked up at the officer and shook his head. It didn’t look good. Harry caught this gesture and a great feeling of despair took hold of him and he began to shake uncontrollably.
They rushed her out of the room on the stretcher and into the waiting ambulance. Reporters had got word of the incident via an interception on the police radio band and were busy snapping pictures of the victim. This would be an interesting night, who was the perpetrator they wondered?
A police photographer had also arrived at the scene and was taking photos of the crime scene.
The police had opened Harry’s wallet and proceeded to read him his rights.
“Harry Rowlandson, we are arresting you on suspicion of attempted murder. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defense if you fail to mention when questioned anything you later rely on in court.”
Harry was speechless. He couldn’t say anything, he had heard the voices again and he had seen the awful image of Becky lying there.
“Take him away Rich.”
Harry was led handcuffed down the hall with his head firmly down.
A voice called from the horrified crowd outside, “Harry, is that you?”
He looked up, it was Bob Austin. He had arrived before midnight ready for the conference tomorrow.
He shouted back as he was led through the crowd. “Call Suzy, call Jack, it’s all a big mistake, I didn’t do it.”
“Sure you didn’t Harry,” shouted back Bob, a little bit too sarcastically. He had been at the meeting in the great atrium with Jack and he was in no doubt now about the mental state of Harry.
Harry was pulled outside to the waiting patrol cars. Intense flashes hit his eyes, the reporters were in full swing, they would have a field day with this,. Whoever the man was they would find out soon enough.
“Zulu 7 6 5 Control, we have the suspect. His name is Harry Rowlandson, white, Caucasian, 52 years old, dark brown hair, blue eyes, no discerning marks over.”
“Roger Zulu 7 6 5, will run an identity check over.”
The policeman sitting in the passenger seat turned around to Harry with a complete look of disgust on his face.
“I hope you’ve got a good lawyer mate although it looks like you won’t be getting out of this.”
“I didn’t do it, she was just lying there, it wasn’t me I swear. This is all a complete mistake.”
“Well you can tell us all you know down at the station but you will be able to call upon legal assistance or we can call one on your behalf to represent you.”
“I have my own. I’m a banking chairman, Rowlandson Bank, I’ll have help here in a few hours.” He felt like a lamb to the slaughter. This was completely wrong, none of it made any sense. One minute he was enjoying a drink with Becky, he had retired to his room to wait for her and the next, he was woken up by voices and staring at a near corpse. What had happened in-between?
The two officers looked at each other. It seemed like they had caught themselves a big fish for a change rather than a druggie or petty criminal. It would certainly look good on their reports.
Becky had arrived at the hospital and was being tended by nurses and doctors who were shoving all manner of tubes inside of her, draining fluids and injecting new ones while they repaired the damage the knife has caused.
She had a pulse but it was weak and she was on the critical list in a supposed coma. They couldn’t get any response from her, it didn’t look good.
The phone started to ring incessantly in the early hours of the morning. The occupant of the rather grand Victorian house in the Knightsbridge suburb was expecting a call and let it ring till it stopped; he knew he would receive another a few minutes later, he had already taken one from Bob Austin.
Sure enough, it rang again and the slick backed snake like recipient smiled as he picked it up.
“Jack, oh Jack it’s Harry, my god, you have to help me.”
Time for a mood of surprise to come tumbling forth. “Harry, what the devil are you phoning me about, have you found a deal breaker that simply cannot wait?” He was having fun.
“Jack, the most awful thing has happened I need you to get the legal team up here right away. There’s been an accident.” Harry was talking at a million miles an hour, his voice was utter panic.
“Calm down Harry, what is it?”
“Becky, she’s been stabbed. She’s not dead but …”
A cold sweat began to form on the cold blooded instigator.
“Not dead? What do you mean? How could this be?”
“They say I did it in my hotel room but I swear I didn’t, I’ve been setup, please help me.”
Becky should have been dead, he had planned it meticulously but as always, there were complications and variables he couldn’t control.
“What’s her condition, can she talk?”
“No goddamit, the Police think she’s in a coma, she looked dead to me.”
Jack was tentative but calm. It could be fixed, no need to panic. “Which hospital is she in?”
“The Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. Do all you can to help her Jack, please I beg you.”
Of course he would. “No need to beg Harry, I’ll help her but first we need to help you. I’ll get John & Sandra sent up right away, shall I let Suzy know?”
Harry was crying now, he couldn’t control himself. “Whatever will Suzy think? I only have one call Jack, please break it to her gently and tell her not to panic. It’s all been a complete misunderstanding!”
“Ok Harry, I’ll pull out all the stops. We’ll get you out of there and sort this mess out.”
Harry hung up and left Jack with a feeling of dread. Becky had to be silenced but he was glad she’d ended up in a coma. He decided to call up Dr Hancox to see what could be done before it spiraled out of control.
Harry was led by the two officers down to the desk sergeant who calmly took down his particulars before they marched him off to have his photograph and finger prints taken. He was bewildered by the sheer efficiency of it all.
He was then seated in a stark grey room with no furniture except for a telephone, table and chairs and a recording machine. He was accompanied by two officers, the same two that had burst into his room. What was curious was the way Jack had been surprised by Becky not being dead rather than the fact she had come close to it in the first place, but his thoughts were interrupted by the two officers sitting opposite him.
“Harry Rowlandson, we know you have waived the right to speak before your lawyers get here so it’s back off to the cell for you until they arrive, are you sure you don’t want to tell us anything at this stage?”
The tape recorder was running and Harry knew he couldn’t jeopardise his chances of leaving so he kept quiet and just shook his head. The officers had had plenty of time to cross examine as their shift had only started a couple of hours ago. At least it was something to get their teeth stuck into.
They led Harry back to his cell, shoved him inside and banged the door closed. It had the effect of unnerving prisoners, especially those who hadn’t ever seen the inside of a cell.
Becky’s condition had remained the same. They had managed to stop the bleeding which was good, but scans had confirmed their suspicions, she was in a deep coma and it was uncertain how long she would remain that way, if she managed to come out of it at all after losing so much blood.
They wheeled her bed to the critical ward after four hours of surgery. The day had already broken and the sun was trying to push through a long line of dark clouds. The mood of the sky fitted the general feeling of Harry as he sat in his cell wondering about her condition, staring at the walls, his solid bed and toilet with no other means of comfort to help him through. The walls seemed to be a non colour; they were bleak with faint scrawls here and there made by fellow prisoners trying to scratch their names with broken fingernails.
Jack had to call Suzy to deliver the news. It was unpleasant business but it was done now and there was no going back.
When the call came a bleary eyed Suzy answered; it was 6.30am and she wasn’t expecting a call this early.
“Hello Jack, why the hell are you calling me, what is it? I’m really tired.” She yawned but appreciated his eagerness to speak to her.
“Suzy, it couldn’t be changed, it was too late. Harry’s in police custody for the attempted murder of Becky. There was nothing I could do.”
A cold fear of dread spread across Suzy’s face, stunned by the magnitude of the news. She found it hard to speak and could feel herself welling up.
“Jack … I … Oh my God, what have we done?”
She started crying, it was too late. It felt like the last rites had been performed before the hangman had performed his evil deed.
“Suzy, listen to me, we must not … we can’t waver from our convictions now, do you hear me? What’s done is done, there is no going back for Harry, do you understand?”
“I can’t believe it, you told me that it would be called off?” She stammered as all the mixed emotions came flooding back over her. This was Harry, what had she done?
Jack needed to act quickly, “This is serious now Suzy, one sniff of this and we’re going to jail for a very long time, do you hear me? I need you to carry out the final part of this whole sorry business in due time.”
How could he be so calm in a situation like this?
She let out an angry cry, “You complete shit Jack, what have you done, this is my husband for god’s sake, how could you be so cold?”
“Correction Suzy, this is what we have both done and you had better get used to it. He’s not going to get out of this mess, we are so close to realising our dream together Suzy.”
That was the final straw for Suzy, she just snapped. He was devoid of any emotion whatsoever, what had she seen in him?
“I don’t want our bloody dream, I want Harry back,” she screamed.
Jack pushed the phone away from him. He laughed, she was hysterical now but she’d come round in good time.
“It’s too late Suzy, it really is. I’ll speak to you later when you’ve calmed down a little. You won’t be able to see him.”
The phone line went dead and Suzy ran to her closet in a blind panic to pack some clothes and her passport but eventually she came to the realisation that all was lost. He would never get out; she crumpled into a heap of tears onto the bedroom floor.
Midday had arrived and a large crowd of reporters had gathered outside the police station in central Edinburgh waiting for news of events from the previous evening. It was left to duty Sergeant Calum Warner to address them.
With the camera already rolling, he delivered a satisfactory statement, “In the early hours of this morning a call was received about a near fatal stabbing incident of a female at the Radisson Hotel in Central Edinburgh. The suspect we believe is Harry Rowlandson, the chairman of Rowlandson Bank and the victim is also believed to work there as Mr Rowlandon’s personal assistant.
He paused for a moment to let it all sink in, “We don’t know the circumstances surrounding the incident as yet but we will be issuing a further statement at some point later today. Thank you.”
The shocking news whipped the press into a serious frenzy. It was a giant scoop for all, the statement had simultaneously appeared on television sets across the whole country and it would be no surprise that everyone involved in and around the bank would be talking about it in a short while. Harry was a condemned man, even before he had been given the chance to speak.
Reuters and Bloomberg had picked up the news from the outset. As further developments revealed themselves they were transferred to computers and outdoor screens to inform the mass of shocked drinkers in and around Canary Wharf.
The Rowlandson Bank’s press officers were in full flow fielding questions from reporters on the background of Harry and the reasons he committed this heinous crime. They angrily denounced the allegations of attempted murder and would not issue any statements until the full facts were available.
Harry’s lawyers had sprung into action and caught the next available flight to Edinburgh intent on minimizing the damage it may cause to the bank’s reputation rather than the damage it would do to the man himself. Jack had given them a remit to make sure no stone was unturned in the establishment of the truth, however grim it may be.
Jack was having a field day. He had been comforted by Dr Hancox’s news that he had phoned the hospital personally through his own contacts and they had told him it was doubtful that Becky would ever pull through.
Vic had heard about the incident from Hobbs and AJ. They told him it was sorted but he saw it as messy. Send boys to do a man’s job, he should have gone there himself but it was too late now. He didn’t much care for the geezer called Hobbs, he was incompetent, but he liked the other one. He could see himself in AJ. All was not lost, the girl in the coma would be silenced soon and he close the door on this particularly tricky transaction.
The small grey car had been abandoned and torched in a disused field a little further past Newcastle. Hobbs and AJ had swapped it for a blue Vauxhall Vectra parked up in pub car park nearby, probably left by its drunken owner the night before.
“I can smell victory AJ, its close now. Did you see her face, hilarious.”
“You’re a prized nutter Hobbs, you really are. You sound like you’re in a scene from 'Apocalypse Now’.”
Hobbs just laughed. He was still buzzing from the second attack. “I wished I’d seen the old geezers face when he woke up after that drug you slipped him … classic.”
“I should have slipped you one, might have calmed you down you mug.”
“Don’t call me a mug AJ. Remember who’s in charge.”
Hobbs was getting angry again. AJ could see he had riled him up and being so unpredictable at the best of times, he decided to play it safe.
“Sorry Hobbsy, you’re the man. We’ll be sunning ourselves on a beach soon, you and me.”
Hobbs calmed down as soon as the hierarchy was restored, “Damn right we will, that was too easy. Vic seemed impressed; he said he wanted to see us as soon as we got back.”
That snippet didn’t sound good to AJ. “This early on mate? We should be living it up and waiting for our next assignment. What’s he want from us?”
“Dunno, probably to thank us I suppose. It looks like after all of this we’ll be getting some more work from his connections in Spain when we finally get there," he said confidently.
AJ wasn’t impressed, or maybe a trip on a fishing boat, he thought to himself.
Harry was having a torrid time in the plain, stark cell. He could hear a commotion going on outside. He knew a media circus had descended on the station and he couldn’t even speak his mind or defend himself.
The cell door was unlocked and in stepped the sergeant who gave Harry such a solemn look as he passed the food tray over to him.
“Here’s your food Mr Rowlandson, you had better eat it. Once you’ve done there’s a couple of people that would like to see you, we’re just filling them in with the circumstances.
“Who are they?” he asked nervously. He looked and sounded like a broken man, he had never stepped foot in a police station before.
“Your lawyers I believe from your bank,” and he closed the cell door.
It seemed like an eternity for Harry as he waited for the door to open again. Eventually he heard the click and was led back into the interview room. He was relieved to see that his lawyers, John Warren and Sandra McAffertey, were sitting there waiting expectantly for him to appear.
“Harry, Harry, my god how the blazes are you feeling,” said John.
“Awful John, just awful, there has been some kind of bloody mistake. I don’t know how it happened but Becky was just lying there, just awful, I can’t explain.”
Sandra got up to comfort Harry. “It’s ok Harry, Jack sent us over. We’ll have this whole mess sorted out for you, we’re on your side.”
The two arresting officers were sitting at the desk waiting impatiently for the formalities to be over with before they started their questions.
“Mr Rowlandson, are you comfortable to sit and answer our questions now?”
Harry looked over at the man who had thrown him to the floor in the arrest earlier, “Yes I’m ready, the sooner we get this over with the better.”
“I’m now going to insert two audio tapes A and B. You will sign one of these tapes at the end of the interview.”
The police officers gave their names and numbers for the benefit of the tape and Harry confirmed his identity and place of residence. He was cautioned again but felt comfortable at the presence of his lawyers. He would surely be away from his hellish nightmare soon.
“Mr Rowlandson, can you give us your sequence of events leading up to the attack on the victim, a Miss Rebecca Trevor?”
Harry was quite shaken but confident he wasn’t alone. “I can, we spent the day at the investor conference within the EICC which can be corroborated, then we took a taxi back to the hotel. We chatted and shared a couple of drinks together before Becky, I mean Rebecca retired to her room.”
“And yourself, Mr Rowlandson, what happened after that?”
“I also retired to my room a few minutes later, the barman will know this. I saw a glass of wine had been placed on the table and drank it, red wine. Then I felt drowsy and passed out.”
“You passed out, Mr Rowlandson, where was Miss Trevor at this time?”
“I don’t know. She must have been in her room. Anyway, I fell asleep and when I woke up I found her lying there with blood pouring from several stab wounds.”
“Mr Rowlandson, we have the knife, where did you get it?”
John Warren intervened, “Sorry officers but that sounded like a leading question, he’s not at liberty to answer that.”
“I’ll rephrase Mr Rowlandson, had you seen the knife before?”
Harry was visibly shocked at the accusation, “I have never owned a knife like that in my life; it looked like a Bowie knife. I’m not a bloody hunter Officer!”
Harry was recalling the exact events in his mind. He remembered clearly the voices that had woken him from his slumber but he couldn’t mention those for they would certainly condemn him.
The stern looking officer continued, “Miss Trevor is in a critical condition as we speak and we’re not sure if she will pull through, Mr Rowlandson. Could you tell us about your relationship with Miss Trevor?”
“She was my personal assistant. She’s been working for me for quite a few years now, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her I swear.”
The second officer leaned in a little closer. “So, Mr Rowlandson, can you again tell us about your personal relationship with Miss Trevor. What I’m trying to say is, were you having an intimate relationship with the victim?”
Harry was angry now and his lawyers were trying to calm him but Harry was feeling uneasy at the leading nature of the questions. “How dare you officer? I have never had any intimate relations with her. She was my assistant for Christ sake, nothing more, we are friends but it’s completely platonic!” He feel a little guilt where that was concerned but surely they knew nothing about it.
“Mr Rowlandson, we performed a search of your residence an hour ago in Chislehurst, Kent and our officers recovered a number of items of ladies underwear that your wife Suzy Rowlandson says do not belong to her. We also recovered some photos which we believe belong to Miss Trevor. We’re having the evidence sent up as quickly as we can.”
Harry was incredulous, what were they saying?, “Bloody hell man, someone has set me up, can’t you see that? How would I get hold of those items in the first place?” It was incredible; Harry was being labeled a potential murderer as well as a stalker.
“That’s what we’re trying to establish Mr Rowlandson, so we ask you again, did you have intimate relations with Miss Trevor?”
“No, not at all, this is bloody ridiculous.”
The police officer looked over at his colleague, they had been sniggering to themselves a little earlier about this particular question.
“Which leads us to our next question Mr Rowlandson; do you take part in sexual games involving bondage and pain?”
Sandra McAffertey had heard quite enough. “Officers!, my client does not wish to answer any further questions at this time.”
The officer looked at Harry like he was a demented pervert. “As you wish, we’ll continue with our enquiries and call Mr Rowlandson in again for any further questions we may have. The interview has been terminated at 15:08.”
John placed a hand on his shoulder but didn’t let it stay there too long. Sandra looked visibly flustered at the inference that Harry was a sexual stalker and couldn’t even look him in the eyes.
“Look Harry, we’ll do our best. We’ll find out what evidence they have against you and then we’ll talk again, ok?”
“John, I appreciate it.” Harry was blubbering a little. He couldn’t believe the evidence they said they’d found and the worst part of it all was that Suzy would have had the indignity of being searched and questioned over the contents of their find. His whole world had indeed started to crumble.
There was nothing worse than the appearance of doubt in people’s minds, even if you were completely innocent of all crimes. If they believed that someone has committed an evil act, even more so a sexual one, then he may as well hang himself now.
Harry was led back to his cell. The police officer pushed him inside and shouted, “Inside you sick pervert” before slamming the door shut. Harry began visibly sobbing. He crashed onto the makeshift bed and started to rock back and forth. It was simply too much for him to bear.
John and Sandra walked out of the station looking completely flustered. The press were standing outside waiting to interview them.
“Could you tell us anymore about the incident Sir?”
“Have they established a motive Madam?”
Etc, etc, the list went on. John pushed through the crowds stating he had nothing to say and jumped into the waiting taxi with numerous cameras obtrusively pointing into the cab’s window.
“For Christ sake Sandra, I didn’t know about the evidence. This has cast a completely different light on the whole situation, what was he playing at? I don’t get it at all, we need to phone Jack and let him know what’s happening. He won’t believe it.”
“That’s a given John. I never had him down as a sicko.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions Sandra. It’s certainly bizarre but we need to delve further. I’m not sure how we’re going to get him out of this mess, my god!”
The taxi raced off to the lawyers’ hotel. John decided to give Jack a call en-route.
“Jack, it’s John Warren, you won’t believe what just transpired!”
Jack was sitting in his office once more. He’d had visitors from the Met himself who were waiting patiently to ask him more questions; the day was getting interesting to say the least.
He listened intently to John’s words and feigned surprise at them, promising to pull out all the stops to help poor old Harry out.
Jack turned back to the policeman with a stern look on his face. “Officers, they seem to think it’s a sexually motivated crime. I have to be truthful here, I didn’t think Harry was that kind of person. I’ve known him for years but I did receive a call from his physician, Dr Hancox. He said Harry’s test results were in.”
“Test results Mr Mayes? Tests for what?”
“I’m not sure, Harry didn’t tell me anything about them. Could be nothing but here’s Dr Hancox’s address. Poor Harry, it must be one big mistake, he is a lovely man.”
“Thank you Mr Mayes. If we have any more questions we may need to come back to see you again. Are you planning on travelling anywhere in the immediate future?”
Jack stood up and with a look of unrestrained helpfulness shook his head, “I’ll be here to help you in any way I can officers. I feel awful for his wife, Suzy, to even have to go through with this whole sorry ordeal.”
The officers made their way out of Harry’s office and called their controller to say they would be making a detour to Devonshire Street.
A