CHAPTER TEN
Hobbs and AJ had finally arrived back in London. They were exhausted and hadn’t managed to get any sleep. AJ had taken over the driving after Hobbs’s pills had worn off; he was on a complete crash down as they drove through the Blackwall Tunnel into Greenwich.
“Hobbs mate, wake up.” He nudged the sleeping passenger who shook into life.
“Oh mate, I feel like crap. Let’s just go and crash out at our place, I’m dog tired.”
“We can’t, Vic’s waiting for us!”
“Sod Vic, I want some shut eye, what a day.” Hobbs sighed and went back to sleep.
AJ drove onto Shooters Hill Road towards the old railway warehouses in Deptford where Vic would be waiting. He hoped this would be good but he had his doubts. He couldn’t turn back, there was no point running away from Vic, He would eventually find you.
He kidded himself in his delirium of tiredness that Vic probably just wanted to give them special instructions or maybe just hole them up somewhere safe until this incident died down. Yes, that was it; he had been smoking too much weed lately and was getting paranoid.
Hobbs was still fast asleep and snoring when AJ saw one of the serious looking heavies signal him into the double doors that enclosed the railway arch. To his relief, Vic was smiling as he came to a stop.
Vic saw that Hobbs was fast asleep in the passenger seat and motioned AJ with a finger to his mouth not to wake him. Vic must me a practical joker; he probably had an air horn placed nearby.
AJ got out and nodded to Vic as one of his two heavies, carrying a pillow walked casually over to the passenger door and opened it.
BANG BANG!, it gave AJ a shock as the henchmen emptied two muffled bullets into the sleeping passengers head. Hobbs lay in the same position he had slept in these past few hours. He wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.
Vic stood there without a shred of emotion, “Dave, drive this muppet down to the docks and get rid of him and crush the car.”
The heavy pushed past AJ and reversed the Vectra out of the building.
AJ was trembling now, a small puddle forming at the bottom of his trouser leg. Vic came over smiling and put his arm around him.
“Listen AJ, you’re alright but your mate was a complete muppet, if you could call him a mate. He almost messed up the entire operation. From now on you’re under my care.”
AJ was still looking at the ground, he couldn’t look the man in the eye but he quickly nodded his obedience.
“Kelvin here will make sure you wash that piss off your trousers, you look a mess. Get him a change of clothes. I’ll see you later.”
A shaken AJ was led away and into the direct command of an even bigger fish now.
Dr Hancox was pacing around his office trying to take in the escalation of events over the day. He felt a mixture of betrayal with Harry and apprehension over the visit by the police. He had to act calm at all costs. He couldn’t understand how Jack could remain so unfettered as if he was merely signing a financial bonds issue rather than condemning a man to a pitiful fate.
He knew a while back that he could have declined Jack’s offer and forewarned Harry. Maybe the reward would have been far greater but he needed an escape route from the tedium of his existence. From appearances, he might have looked like a very successful physician plying his trade in one of the most exclusively private practices in London … but if you dug a little deeper, you would see numerous mounting debts, an acute drinking and gambling problem and he knew that he would still be here late into retirement. Only Jack could offer him that escape. Harry would have offered him a mere pat on the back. It was as simple as that.
He gave another look over Harry’s medical notes to make sure there weren’t any discrepancies. This was a case diagnosis of rapid deterioration before treatment could be arranged and administered; it would stand up on its own merits.
Trixie knocked at the door and led the two Met officers in. “Dr Hancox? We’re constables Lazarus and Obee and we’d like to speak with you about Harry Rowlandson.
Nick managed to compose himself. “Certainly, take a seat would you. It’s awful news it really is, how could he have done such a thing?”
PC Lazarus interjected, “Well, it’s not cut and dried yet sir, we’re still establishing the full facts of the case.”
“Quite right officer, quite right, what do you need from me?”
“Well sir, we know that you’ve held a long standing relationship with Harry for quite some years, personally and medically, so we hoped you could shed some light on his background and any conditions he may have?”
Play it concerned Nick, don’t condemn him, let the medical notes do that and you’re home free, he thought to himself.
“Well officers, I’ve known Harry for about ten years, lovely chap, a great friend. I’m as shocked as anyone. I met the victim on a number of occasions while as a guest to functions. Lovely girl, they had a great relationship. I only wished I could have gotten there sooner.”
The officers looked puzzled. “Got there sooner Dr Hancox? How do you mean?” PC Obee was busy scribbling into her notepad looking for any incriminating fragments she could find.
“Well, considering his condition there was no way treatment could have arrived sooner.”
“Slow down Dr Hancox, you’re not making any sense. What condition?”
Dr Hancox stopped suddenly and leaned over his desk and placed his hands together like all doctors do when they have something important to say. “Well, schizophrenia of course.”
The two officers had just received the final piece of the puzzle. An obsessive, compulsive schizophrenic with a sexual interest in his assistant, bounds and gags her before brutally stabbing her and then wakes up to recall nothing of the night before. If only other cases could be as cut and dried as this, they thought.
Dr Hancox gave the officers his medical notes, “Gentleman, this report shows a positive blood test for schizophrenia, along with my concern over his deteriorating mental condition after his initial attack.”
He walked the two officers to the door of his plush London practice and shook their hands.
“I only wish I could have helped him sooner, poor bugger,”
A condemned man walked up the steps of the gallows and peered out at the twisted and jeering faces. It was only a matter of time.
Calum Warner was expectantly waiting for a call to come from his friends at the Met. He was unsure about how the dice would fall. Would he have enough evidence to convict or, like a lot of high earning individuals with slick lawyers, there was always a get out clause for them to slip the net. He had seen quite a few of those in his time.
Outside of his office, colleagues were busy piecing the story together from hotel witness statements and conference attendees while some were watching the news looking for leads the press had gotten to first.
A direct line rang in his office and he was quick to pick up and greet the Met Detective on the other end of the line “Sergeant, you wouldn’t believe the information we’ve received from our sources. I’ll fill you in on developments and one of my officers will fax over the details. We’ll get the evidence sent up right away, by the way.”
The sergeant listened intently and a determined smile spread across his face. He couldn’t believe the clear cut nature of this case and thanked the detective for his good work.
Calum replaced the receiver and immediately picked it up again, dialling the number he had been left at the hotel.
“Is that John Warren?”
John recognized the voice from earlier, “Hello Sergeant, anything new?”
“You had better get down to the station now. We’re going to ask Mr Rowlandson some more questions; he’s about to be charged.”
Sergeant Warner loved the dramatics and abruptly ended the call.
“Christ Sandra, it sounds like Harry’s in real trouble, I wonder what they’ve got on him. This won’t do, it really won’t.”
Sandra eyed John quite sympathetically, she was used to dealing with FSA breaches and advisory issues, it had been a long time since she had represented criminals during her earlier career, she didn’t relish the challenge that lay ahead in the least.
“John, do you not think we should get another defense lawyer in at this stage, one who is used to dealing with such a horrific crime?”
“Too late for that now I think, besides we know him well, we’re his only hope”
Harry wasn’t allowed a single visitor. The only contact with the outside world was his lawyers, even the police had given him the cold shoulder.
He could only surmise what had been reported on the news. He knew it wouldn’t have been good as various people, mostly envious people would have relished the chance to deliver their opinion. The positive comments would have probably been edited or removed entirely to sensationalise the crime.
The banking system had had its knuckles rapped over the credit crunch, the public were angry; there would be no sympathy from that quarter if a big fat banking chairman took a great fall.
It didn’t matter that over the years he had supported so many charities and performed such a lot of good community work. The majority of it was kept secret so how could anyone know? To them he was an evil, greedy businessman who must be thrown from the parapet.
“No sense in feeling sorry for yourself Harry, stay positive,” he muttered to himself. Hopefully the lawyers had latched onto some crucial evidence to clear his good name.
But the doubt crept in again without mercy. He had heard voices, he was still adamant he didn’t act on them but he wasn’t an expert on schizophrenia by a long shot. How could he know what happened while he slept? He still hadn’t gotten the all clear from Dr Hancox. So what if … what if there really was a darker side to him than he could even begin to control?
“Stop it Harry, you’re beginning to talk to yourself now.” He sat on his bed, rubbed his head and waited for signs of life outside. He hoped that Becky had pulled through; they wouldn’t even tell him about her condition anymore.
He could hear a heavy set of keys unlock his cell door and in stepped Sergeant Warner with a smile upon his face. This didn’t look too bad he thought. “Mr Rowlandson, we have some more questions for you. Your lawyers are waiting, if you could come this way.”
Harry walked down the barren hall past officers and prisoners alike and back into the room he had left a few hours ago. Walking in, he saw John and Sandra looking pensive, a totally different reaction to the sergeant.
The arresting officers sat there, gleaming as they always did when they knew something you didn’t. They went through the same procedures as before and Harry waited for the next set of questions, his lawyers nodding and half smiling as they told him they would do all they could.
“Officer, how is Becky’s condition?” asked Harry; he needed to know.
“The same Mr Rowlandson, no change,” was the curt reply.
The tape began rolling, “Mr Rowlandson, a substantial amount of evidence has come to light and we would like to ask you some more questions.”
Harry’s mind could only guess at what they had unearthed. He hoped it wasn’t bad.
“Can you tell us about your condition?”
“What condition, what do you mean? The headaches? The convalescence?” He was unsure what they were getting at.
“No … No, Mr Rowlandson, we would like to talk to you about your medical condition, the schizophrenia.”
The two officers glared at him with intent while the lawyers were sat flustered at the lack of disclosure from Harry.
“Bloody hell officers, I don’t have a condition, I don’t have schizophrenia, who told you this?”
“Mr Rowlandson, we have evidence from your physician to the contrary. He had no choice but to hand over your medical results, they are being shipped over as we speak.”
John intervened quickly, “Look officers, we haven’t seen this report and our client hasn’t furnished us with the information. We need more time to discuss this.”
“Mr Rowlandson, you are not obliged to answer the question but if you tell us now it may help your defense.”
“How can it possibly help my defense? You’re saying I have a mental condition and that’s why I attacked Becky!”
“So you did attack her Mr Rowlandson?”
“No of course I bloody didn’t! Look, I was tested for schizophrenia but the results haven’t come in. I admit I had been hearing strange voices but I paid no attention to them.”
This didn’t look good for Harry, how could you possibly defend yourself against an unseen mental condition.
“What kind of voices Mr Rowlandson, what did they say?”
Sandra stepped in, it just wasn’t the right time to divulge this, the court would deal with that.
She shot them both a stern look, “My client does not want to answer that question. Now is that all officers?”
“Not quite, Miss McAffertey,” Came the calm reply.
“Mr Rowlandson, our colleagues visited your residence today and spoke to your wife, Suzy Rowlandson. They found a number of items of underwear and photographs allegedly belonging to the victim, Rebecca Trevor. After revealing these items to your wife, she broke down and denied they belonged to her telling us that you had threatened her a week ago causing her to leave and I will quote the words now …”
Harry sat there, stunned into silence as the evidence unravelled itself to the horrified ears of his lawyers. Underwear, photographs, Suzy’s confession after suspecting infidelity; it was all too much. Who had done this? How could they perform such a vile act or did he actually carry them out? Was he really schizophrenic? Was the condition so powerful that he could switch personalities and not remember any of the evil acts he was alleged to have carried out? It all sounded too horrific.
He felt like he was in a dream now, a terrible nightmare. He could see the officer speaking but could not make out the words for a few seconds … and then they sailed right back into his immediate consciousness.
“… We are formally charging you with the attempted murder of Miss Rebecca Trevor and also with the intention of stalking her and stealing personal items belonging to the victim.”
“We will take you down to your cell and then you will travel to the High Court of Justiciary in Edinburgh where the judge residing will decide on bail, if any, and a future court date to stand trial.”
Harry started crying, “Oh my god, oh god, I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me, I don’t understand it, I can’t fathom …”
“The interview has been terminated at…”
“Take him away Rich, back to the cell.”
“Mr Warren, Miss McAffertey, we will let you know when the Court can see him to set the trial date.”
Harry was led off in a crumple of tears and grief that luckily no one but his lawyers had seen. He lay in a ball in his cell crying hysterically, it was all he could do.
Calum Warner had prepared his speech to the baying press outside. They had waited long enough for developments. Anything controversial would be a good day for them.
He walked down the steps of the police station in a measured way. He didn’t normally get such high profile cases as this so he had to make the most of it. His jacket had been pressed for the cameras and he was reveling in the publicity.
The cameras started flashing…
“I can confirm that after numerous investigations by ourselves and our colleagues at the Met, we have hereby charged Mr Harry Rowlandson with the attempted murder of Miss Rebecca Trevor. We have also charged him with the theft of personal items belonging to the victim and the subsequent stalking of her, leading to the attempted murder.”
The media couldn’t quite believe the story. This was undeniably one of the biggest scoops this week; they would milk this for all of its worth or at least until the public grew tired of it. In fairness, it was their job and the public certainly needed to know.
Sergeant Warner answered no further questions and turned to walk up the steps; it had been a good day for him too.
Blogs and twitters raced the news around the world. Newspapers stopped print runs in the race to be first with the story, drinkers who could still stand up outside the docklands bars in the early evening were even more shocked that one of their own had fallen so badly. The sick jokes saying that she must have been a cracker for him to do it, the debauched sod, were already circulating via text message. Luckily for Rowlandson Bank, trading for the day had ended on the LSE, but who knows what would happen when the desks opened up on Monday. Several large investors had already placed pre-market sell orders in anticipation of a huge frenzy to come.
Harry was a gibbering wreck by the time the officers pulled him out of the cell to ferry him in the wagon past the intense paparazzi action and onwards to the High Court. John and Sandra had made their way over and now sat in front of the judge presiding waiting for the doomed man to appear.
It was a simple hearing, Harry, on the pained insistence from John had pleaded not guilty to all charges which only left the court date to be determined. Bail was denied to no surprise for the lawyers and Harry was placed under the detention of the mental health act on account of his condition. The court hearing was set for the following Wednesday. A move to hear the case in London was also denied.
A sharply dressed man in checked trousers and plum red top was lining up the ball on the green ready for his birdie. He had played a good game that day, slightly better than his regular course score. The sun was shining and he was glad to be out on his favoured carpet of green.
A bird chime rang in his back pocket and he deftly tapped the ball from ten yards into the hole.
“Splendid shot,” called his partner and he noted the score on his card.
He flipped open the phone, it was Bob Austin.
“Jack, what a hell of a week it’s been. The conference was good despite all the drama. Life goes on as normal but I’ve had an awful lot of awkward questions to field.”
“Understandable Bob, it was terrible that you had to be there in the first place to witness poor Harry being led away. The lawyers are on the case. He has a trial date coming up in less than a week and I’ll be there to give evidence.”
“Poor Harry indeed, did you see the mass of pre-market orders on Bloomberg?”
“I did, it’s bleak but I’ve called an extraordinary meeting to allay their fears. We’ll announce my chairmanship before market close; you should see quite a large number drop off. It’s damage limitation now Bob.”
“Quite right, I’m glad to say we’ve picked the right man to lead us out of this tight spot.”
“Thanks Bob, I really appreciate that and I won’t forget it. This is for Harry, let’s not forget that. Whatever the outcome of the trial may be, he left a solid legacy for us to maintain, he wouldn’t want it any other way. The meetings on Sunday, I trust you’ll be back?”
“Of course, without a doubt, I saw the memo, there’s nothing I can do up here, there are no visiting rights until afterwards.”
“Ok, well try and stay away from the Scottish ladies … we don’t want another scandal Bob!”
Bob laughed, he was known for his philandering. “Sure, I’ll leave that for next time.”
Jack walked over to the hole and picked up his ball. One more hole to go, a quick drink at the 19th and then his secret liaison … a great day indeed.
Harry sat in his cell wondering about Becky’s condition. She was the only person who could prove he was innocent … or could she? Becky had either the most uplifting relief to offer or the most damning verdict. Not that Wednesday’s verdict would be any different but if only she could pull through. Only then would he know for certain what the truth held.
He knelt down and prayed to God. He wasn’t particularly religious and his faith had disappeared after the loss of Helen, but he didn’t have much else to do with his time other than sit and contemplate the events and the imagined reactions of others, especially Suzy. He needed her now more than ever but there was no way he expected she would try and contact him after the evidence found at the house.
He wondered what had Jack been doing; he had sent the lawyers which had been comforting, but the respite hadn’t lasted long. Presumably he would be pulling out all the stops in his defense. He hoped Jack would be taking good care of Suzy and making sure Becky received the best possible medical care.
He didn’t give a damn about what his enemies thought of him now or, when he did get out, what they would think of him then.
He paced up and down the cell. Wednesday was an eternity away. There was nothing to do but stare at the walls and listen to the protests outside from drunk or violent prisoners in adjacent cells.
“You’re a good kid AJ but you followed the wrong man. He was an idiot, it was only a matter of time before he was dealt with. I won’t abide sloppiness in my organisation.”
Vic was lambasting AJ over the screw-ups he had been a part of, starting with the fatal beating of the driver and the near death experience of Harry, not to mention the fact the girl was still alive in the hospital and under guard until she came round.
They were sitting in Vic’s favourite haunt; he could carry out all manner of work from this location. To people coming and going they were just regulars.
Vic continued, “Luckily for you, he was in charge. The girl worries me though AJ, it’s a coma but people pop out of them all the time. She could frame you and that could eventually lead to me. They’re not stupid.”
“I should have done her in quick Vic but Hobbs took pleasure in seeing her suffer. We thought she was dead, honestly we did.”
“Thought’s not good enough. He was an amateur, AJ, and now he’s gone. That turd was a liability and he’ll be sitting at the bottom of the Thames by now, fish food, good riddance, all he was good for.”
AJ had spent a lot of time with Hobbs but it was always oppressive and unpredictable. The happiest times were when he was away from him but Hobbs had enjoyed his job too much. Besides, AJ was sick of travelling around in crap motors, it would be flash ones from now on in.
“I got a plan AJ, Kelvin here is taking a long trip up to Edinburgh to finish her off the moment we get a sniff she is coming out of it. I have connections up there; a couple of orderlies are keeping watch for us.”
“Good plan, Mr Dart,” said AJ.
Vic raised his hand as if he was ready to give AJ a slap. “I know it’s a good plan you mug, I thought of it.”
“Anyhow after this week’s out, I got a job for you. Part of the original plan and you’ll see it through for me. Clean this mess up and we can move onto other things. I got a backlog piling up; the money’s good and I’m going to have to ask for more for this girl and my waste disposal act earlier.”
Vic was as businesslike as your city worker; money for services rendered and tricky operations dealt with. AJ could learn a lot from this man.
“Ok, Mr Dart, I’ll sort it.”
He poured AJ a large glass of bourbon, “Call me Vic; Now, here’s a pony, don’t let that shiny new suit go to waste tonight will you? I got a great lap club in Soho you’ll be wanting to frequent. The girls there will give you a good reception; I’ve told them you’re a ladies' man.”
AJ laughed and shook Vic’s hand. He felt like a beaten stray that had happened by chance onto the doorstep of a much kinder owner and was treated the way he should have been from the start.
Brookdell Cottage was lit up once more with cosy lights that beckoned romantic couples to steal away for a secluded weekend of fun and frolicking. Jack was seated comfortably on the sofa with Suzy’s head on his lap and was gently stroking her hair. There wasn’t a sound around apart from the chirps of birds welcoming in the sunset after a day of foraging.
Suzy was feeling anxious. As Jack had predicted she would come round to her senses and see that the planned path could not be altered now.
“He’ll be worried sick Jack, he’s had no visitors except for the lawyers. Thankfully he was spared the media circus for the most part.
“As well, he wouldn’t have seen anyone except John and Sandra. We’ll be able to see him on Wednesday but unluckily for him you will be on the wrong side.”
Suzy was staring fixated at the solid oak dresser with its frilly cover and twee pots of all shapes and sizes. She turned around suddenly to look at the mastermind of the whole operation, “I want to know one thing Jack?”
“What is it Darling?”
“Tell me truthfully, I need to know before I condemn Harry to the worst fate imaginable. Did you know about the items found at my house belonging to her?”
He looked her straight in the eye, she wouldn’t accept any other gesture he thought. “I swear on my life Suzy, I had no idea he was fixated with her or possibly even had an affair with her.”
Suzy accepted his word on oath; she had no other reference point. “I could probably forget his fixation over time, although I can’t see why he would fancy her over me, she’s nothing to look at; but an affair!, well that was the final straw for me, I still can’t believe it.”
He carried on stroking her hair. “I can’t believe it either; how could she have ended up in his room in the first place?, your right, its fixation more than stalking but that’s the least of his worries.”
Suzy put her head back on his lap, “I can’t think about it anymore Jack, it’s betrayal and I thought he cared about me!”
Jack studied Suzy for a moment as she stretched out on the sofa and thought what a deluded, self absorbed, vain creature she was. It was amazing how similar they both were.
They continued to cuddle on the sofa as the night encroached.
Meanwhile, a solitary figure with no means of enjoying the sunset was huddled and asleep on a makeshift bed awaiting his fate.
Monday morning came quickly and Jack Mayes was standing outside the entrance of the bank making an announcement to the press to the effect that, as from 7:00am that morning, he would be standing as the new chairman of Rowlandson Banking Corporation. There was a flash of cameras and a huddle of reporters with microphones lapping up every word of the breaking story.
Jack surveyed the crowd and continued his speech, “… and furthermore, we would like to allay any fears our investors may have regarding the strength of this bank moving forward. Rowlandson Bank is stable, healthy and poised for growth.”
Terry Lecomber from the FT made his way to the front wanting closure on the whole Harry affair. He managed to speak louder than his compatriots. “Lecomber, FT, what about Harry, do you support him after the arrest?”
Jack was ready for this, he knew about Terry’s column. “Hello Terry, I thought you would pop up today. Harry is still supported by us until the full facts of the case become clear and the court case has been held. After this time, we will of course issue a further statement. Thank you all, there will be no further questions.”
Jack turned and walked back into the building in a hail of light.
Terry grinned, “Damage limitation my ass,” he had already thought of the headline.
The trader desks sprang into life and as predicted, the movers and shakers had decided to pull the majority of sell orders out and, not surprisingly, a number of buy orders had started to appear.
Harry’s cell door clicked open once more but he hardly registered the officer’s presence. He was escorted sullenly back to the interview room to meet his lawyers.
John Warren was the only person in attendance. Sandra had flown home in order to try and gather character witnesses for the defense. There was a list of prosecution witnesses as Sandra had found it hard to counteract the tide of feelings against the heinous crime. Jack had agreed to stand for him but the police had called Suzy against him on the basis of her statement. Dr Hancox would be summoned to appear for prosecution also on his medical evidence, all in all, it didn’t look good.
“I’m sorry Harry, Suzy is still angry at you and won’t speak. Jack has agreed to stand in your defense.”
A depressed looking Harry glanced up, “Oh, well, he is a good man.”
“Dr Hancox has been forced to stand against you. He did, however, wish you well and said he wished he had only gotten to you sooner. Whatever the outcome he will support you.”
“Good, Nick’s a good fellow. I wish I’d been more honest with him about my condition.”
John placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Look Harry, there’s been some news. The bank has moved to appoint Jack as Chairman in your absence.”
Harry hardly flickered at the last snippet. He looked so pitiful and weak, feeling like the final blow had just been delivered; Harry squeezed John’s hand and looked up again, “John, you’ve kn