Fleming and Logan sat in silence until Logan finally spoke in a whisper. ‘Oh, shit. This is dynamite. The man could be the next prime minister, for God’s sake! The powers that be are not going to be happy with this.’
‘No,’ Fleming agreed. ‘That’s why we don’t tell them until after we’ve arrested him.’
‘God help us.’
74
The sound of wailing sirens broke the early morning peace in Henley-on-Thames. Two police cars raced through the streets towards Charles Trenchard’s house on the outskirts of the town. Fleming and Logan followed in an unmarked car.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing, sir,’ Logan said as the car sped forwards. ‘You know the super and Matthew Upson are going to go ballistic. They warned you not to speak to Trenchard again. But arresting him without even telling them is suicidal.’
Fleming shrugged. ‘Internal politics can’t get in the way of justice. You know what they say: no man is above the law.’
‘No,’ Logan agreed, ‘but you could have told the super last night after we’d been to Nielson’s house.’
‘True, but I didn’t want to risk her speaking to Upson and him calling us off. Let’s get this done first. I’ll tell her later. It’s a pity about the delay, but I wanted to wait until this morning to arrest Trenchard. I didn’t want to give his solicitor a chance to argue that it was too late last night to interview him and have the night eating into the time we have to question him before either charging or releasing him.’
‘Even more reason why the super will say you had plenty of time to consult with her first,’ Logan argued.
‘She won’t be happy, but there’s enough evidence to show that Nielson was blackmailing Trenchard. Once he’s under arrest, we’ll get DNA samples and fingerprints. Forensics will clinch it.’
Logan shook his head. ‘I hope you’re right, boss. Because the fact that Nielson was blackmailing Trenchard doesn’t prove he killed him, or had him killed.’
‘Maybe, but there’s also the matter of the shooting in Afghanistan. He’s guilty of a war crime if nothing else.’
The two squad cars swung through the open iron gates and crunched to a halt on the gravel driveway. The unmarked car stopped behind them. The sirens were silent and the blue flashing lights reflected in the house windows.
Charles Trenchard appeared at the open front door in his dressing gown. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he demanded as Fleming and Logan strode towards him.
Fleming flashed his warrant card. ‘Charles Trenchard, I’m arresting you for the murder of Ronnie Nielson. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand the caution, Mr Trenchard?’
Trenchard was speechless for a moment. He glared at Fleming. ‘You must be mad! I’ve already complained to the chief constable about you, and now this! You’re making a very big mistake, Fleming. You’ll be in serious trouble over this!’
Trenchard’s wife had appeared at the door looking terrified. ‘What’s going on, Charles? Why are the police here?’
Trenchard turned to her and put a hand on her arm. ‘It’s all right, darling. Nothing to worry about. There’s been a dreadful mistake, that’s all.’
She didn’t look convinced.
Trenchard had recovered his composure and turned to face Fleming. ‘I’m perfectly happy to accompany you to a police station to answer any questions you–’
‘You don’t have any choice in the matter,’ Fleming cut in. ‘You’re under arrest.’
‘What!’ Trenchard’s wife exclaimed. ‘Charles, what on earth for?’
‘As I was saying,’ Trenchard continued as though he hadn’t grasped what Fleming had said, ‘I am happy to help with your enquiries, but I will require my solicitor’s presence.’
‘Of course,’ Fleming said.
‘And,’ Trenchard continued, ‘I shall be speaking to the chief constable about this outrage.’
Fleming shrugged. ‘Would you like to get dressed before we go?’
Trenchard sneered at Fleming and turned sharply to go inside.
Fleming signalled for two uniformed officers to follow him.
Ten minutes later, Trenchard appeared at the door dressed in smart casual clothes. ‘I take it handcuffs will not be necessary?’
‘Fine,’ Fleming confirmed.
Trenchard’s wife watched from the doorstep, wringing her hands as a uniformed officer held a hand over her husband’s head while he ducked to get into the back seat of the front car.
Fleming and Logan followed the two squad cars as they left Henley heading towards Maidenhead Police Station.
On the way to the station, Fleming’s mobile rang. He looked at the screen: Liz Temple. ‘Hello, ma’am,’ Fleming said in as calm a voice as he could muster.
Logan grimaced.
‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Alex!’ Temple shouted down the phone.
Fleming held the phone away from his ear and shot an uncomfortable glance at Logan. ‘I can explain–’
‘Too fucking right you will. Matthew Upson will be furious. You were warned not to go near Trenchard again–’
‘Yes, but–’
‘But nothing,’ Temple fumed. ‘What part of “I do not want any more complaints from Charles Trenchard” did you not understand? Your career could be over. You do know that?’
Fleming decided to take a firm stance. ‘Even if Trenchard is the killer? Ma’am, I’m perfectly aware of the politics and sensitivities around this, but I have concrete evidence to show that Charles Trenchard killed innocent civilians in cold blood in Afghanistan, and almost certainly killed Ronnie Nielson.’
There was a moment’s silence before Temple spoke again. ‘Where are you taking him?’
‘Maidenhead.’
‘I’ll meet you there.’ Temple cut the call.
Fleming looked at Logan. ‘Looks like Trenchard’s wife wasted no time.’
75
The atmosphere was tense. Liz Temple was leaning over the table where Fleming was sitting. The whites of her knuckles contrasted starkly with the red rising in her face.
Fleming waited for the onslaught.
‘I don’t know where to begin, Alex. I’m almost speechless at your tactless disregard of authority. Do you know what you’ve done?’
‘I–’
Fleming didn’t get any more words out before Temple launched into him again. ‘You’ve fucked up big time. How many times did we warn you to back off from Trenchard?’
Fleming said nothing.
‘You idiot! What do you do? You ignore all the warnings and go charging after him like a demented bull. Christ, give me strength! The man could be the next prime minister!’
Fleming knew it was pointless saying anything. He would have to wait for Temple to run out of steam.
‘Matthew Upson nearly had a heart attack when I told him! He can’t believe what you’ve done after what he said to you. Cecil Daubney will have him out of the door by the end of the day if we release Trenchard without charge. And, rest assured, we’ll be just behind him!’
Fleming stared ahead waiting for more.
‘Upson told you not to mess things up, but you ignore the warning and go and completely screw up! The consequences of your actions are… are immeasurable!’ Temple spluttered. She finally did run out of steam and sat wearily with a resigned look on her face. ‘So… are you going to tell me what possessed you to arrest Trenchard without checking with me first?’
Fleming took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry I acted without telling anyone what I was going to do, ma’am, but I knew if I told you about it you would be duty bound to report up to Matthew Upson. No disrespect, but I was sure he would stop me arresting Trenchard because of the politics involved and the flack he would take from Cecil Daubney.’
‘Too bloody right he would!’ Temple exploded. ‘He would want to
make absolutely sure before he would allow such a thing. That’s the responsibility that comes with high rank.’
Fleming nodded his understanding. ‘I thought I could take that pressure off him, and you for that matter, by acting independently. If things go pear shaped, you can both claim I was a loose cannon acting without authority or permission. You knew nothing of my intentions and so were powerless to stop me.’
‘That’s very decent of you, Alex,’ Temple said with more than a hint of sarcasm. ‘You’re so sure of yourself over this that you’re prepared to fall on your sword and take all of the blame?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Okay, so what exactly have you got on him, apart from the fact he possibly lied to you about knowing Nielson?’
‘He also lied over where he was on the night Nielson was killed.’
‘And that’s it? Please tell me you have more than that.’
‘Yes, I have,’ Fleming said, his eyes gleaming. ‘Logan and I searched Nielson’s house again. I thought maybe we could find something the SOCOs missed. Something that would prove Bill Watson was on the take and that Nielson was blackmailing him. If he was, Watson would have had a motive for killing him.’
‘But you found something to incriminate Trenchard instead?’
‘Yes. There was a false bottom in one of Nielson’s computer desk drawers. There was an address book which had Trenchard’s telephone number in it, and a newspaper clipping with a photograph of Trenchard.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Nielson also had the phone numbers for Bill Watson, Frank Jardine, Anthony Hayden, and Emma Hayden.’
‘I mean on Trenchard,’ Temple said irritably.
‘No. There was an external hard drive. We found a video showing Trenchard shooting four unarmed civilians in Afghanistan. We also found a copy of Nielson’s electronic calendar. He had a meeting arranged with Trenchard on the night he was killed.’
‘You think Nielson was blackmailing him?’
‘I’d bet my life on it.’
‘Still doesn’t prove Trenchard killed him, Alex. If you’ve got this wrong, your career will be over. I hope for all our sakes that you’re right.’
76
Interview room one contained just a table and four chairs. It was hot, and beads of sweat were already forming on Trenchard’s brow. He sat next to his solicitor, speaking in a quiet voice but fell silent when Fleming and Temple entered.
They sat across the table from Trenchard and his solicitor. Fleming broke the seal on a twin pack of audio cassettes and plugged them into the recording machine. The twenty-four-hour clock had started ticking. Liz Temple’s words were still ringing in his ears: If you’ve got this wrong, your career will be over.
Fleming glanced at Temple who nodded. He pressed the record button. ‘This is an interview with…’ He looked towards Trenchard. ‘State your full name, address, and date of birth please.’
Trenchard spoke quietly in a confident voice and glared defiantly at Fleming when he had finished speaking.
‘Thank you,’ Fleming said, then turned to face the recorder. ‘I am DCI Fleming. Also present is Superintendent Temple and…’ He looked across at Trenchard’s solicitor, prompting him to speak.
The man was neatly dressed in a dark grey suit, white shirt and blue tie. He had short blond hair and a thin pale face. Piercing blue eyes gazed at Fleming. The man spoke quietly. ‘Silas Quigley, solicitor.’
‘Thank you,’ Fleming said. ‘There are no other people present.’ He noted the time, date and location and read Trenchard his rights again.
Trenchard put both hands face down on the table in front of him. ‘I think you ought to know, Chief Inspector, that I’ve complained to the chief constable about your continued harassment. I also deny any involvement in the crime for which you have arrested me, but I am happy to help with your enquiries.’
Fleming ignored the menace in Trenchard’s voice. ‘When we first spoke, you claimed you didn’t know Ronnie Nielson.’
‘That’s right. You showed me a photograph. You pointed out to me that one of the men in it was Ronnie Nielson, did you not?’
‘Yes, I did. I also reminded you in a later meeting that you were Nielson’s platoon commander in Afghanistan.’
‘Yes, and if I remember correctly, I told you I couldn’t possibly remember everyone I served with and that I couldn’t remember the names of all the sergeants who served under me. Some of whom were only with me for a short period of time, I may add.’
‘Do you tend to remember people you didn’t get on with?’
Trenchard shook his head. ‘I’m not sure what you’re getting at.’
‘One of your old officer colleagues, Giles Bonner, claims you didn’t see eye to eye with Nielson.’
‘There were many men I didn’t get on with, as you put it. That was the nature of the job, I’m afraid. I don’t remember all of the people I’d crossed swords with.’
‘Mr Bonner also told me he thought something happened in Afghanistan when you went out drinking one night. He reckons you were a changed man after that night. What do you think he was referring to?’
‘My dear chap, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. We had lots of nights out when we could, and yes, I suppose a lot of us did change after a tour in Afghanistan. People we knew were dying, having limbs blown off. Bit difficult to stay unaffected, wouldn’t you say?’
Fleming changed tack. ‘You said you were with Leo Miller in London on the night Ronnie Nielson was killed. What was the meeting about?’
‘Leo wanted to talk to me about the position of the prime minister and whether a no-confidence vote would be forced. He wanted me to stand for the leadership if the prime minister failed to get the support he would need to remain in office.’
‘We checked with Mr Miller’s private office. They had no record of any such meeting.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me. The nature of our meeting was hardly one we were going to document.’
‘Mr Miller’s private office told us he insisted all of his meetings were entered in his official diary. He could have asked them to log the meeting without being explicit over what it was about.’
‘He obviously didn’t, or his office forgot to enter it. Look, I’ve no idea why they didn’t record the meeting. Why don’t you check with Leo himself?’
‘It seems he claimed that it was just a personal and private meeting that didn’t need to be in the diary.’
‘There you are then,’ Trenchard said triumphantly.
‘Mr Miller’s wife claimed her husband was at home with her all that night,’ Fleming said, fixing a steady gaze on Trenchard.
‘She’s mistaken,’ Trenchard countered, shrugging. ‘People can get days mixed up in their minds.’
‘Can we have a short break?’ Temple asked.
Fleming saw the look on her face and nodded. He spoke into the recorder. ‘Interview suspended at eleven fifty-four.’
Trenchard and Quigley exchanged glances as Fleming and Temple left the room.
Once outside, Temple drew Fleming to one side out of earshot of anyone who might be in the vicinity. ‘This is not going well, Alex. He’s batting back your questions with the ease you’d expect of a politician. You need to put him under more pressure. Press him on the evidence you found in Nielson’s house.’
‘I was just about to get on to that. I wanted him to think he has the better of me. I’m hoping he might get careless and be thrown off guard when I hit him with the serious stuff.’
‘Don’t you think he’ll be ready for that? Quigley has had primary disclosure. He’s been told what evidence we have against Trenchard.’
‘Yes, but I want Trenchard to sweat a little first.’
‘Don’t keep him sweating too much longer. He might do the opposite of what you think and gain in confidence. Bit like interviewing a candidate for a job and asking the simple questions first to put them at ease.’
‘Okay,’ Fleming agre
ed. ‘I’ll get tougher on him.’
77
Trenchard and Quigley were talking in urgent whispers when Fleming and Temple re-entered the interview room. Quigley was about to say something but fell silent. Fleming guessed he would have been reminding Trenchard of what was about to come.
Fleming sat and restarted the recorder. ‘Interview resumed at eleven fifty-nine.’ He stared hard into Trenchard’s eyes. ‘Is there any reason why Ronnie Nielson would have your telephone number?’
‘No.’
‘Can you explain why it was in an address book in his house?’
‘No.’
‘He also had a newspaper cutting. It was an article about you. He’d underlined the fact you were wealthy…’
‘I’d no idea he was a fan of mine,’ Trenchard said nonchalantly.
‘We also found an external drive for his computer.’
Trenchard laughed weakly. ‘So?’
‘There was a video on it. The one I think Ronnie Nielson showed you when he tried to blackmail you…’
‘This is ridiculous! I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chief Inspector.’
Fleming noticed the change in Trenchard’s demeanour. There was uncertainty in his eyes. Panic even. ‘You appear on the video shooting four unarmed Afghan civilians.’
‘This is absurd!’ Trenchard exclaimed. ‘There has to be some mist–’
‘There’s no mistake,’ Fleming cut in. ‘That’s what Giles Bonner was referring to, isn’t it? That’s what made you a changed man. You were living in fear of being found out.’
Trenchard laughed and shook his head.
‘Or maybe it was remorse?’ Fleming pressed.
‘The video is obviously a fake.’
‘A fake?’ Fleming queried. He opened the laptop in front of him, tapped on the touchpad and turned it so that Trenchard and Quigley could see the screen. He spoke into the recording machine. ‘For the purposes of the tape, I’m showing Mr Trenchard exhibit V001XB which is a copy of the video taken in Afghanistan.’
The Fifth Suspect Page 27
