Marked for Death

by Tony Kent

  The jurors were escorted from the court without a word by the court usher. The courtroom itself remained equally silent as they left. The sound of the door to the jury area clicking closed behind them was the signal that the jurors could no longer hear the courtroom, which was the cue for the lawyers to resume their work.

  ‘Is there anything else we need to deal with this afternoon?’ Levitt’s question was to all three QCs.

  Michael’s mind raced. The thoughts that had concerned him were still bubbling to the surface. He knew the step he needed to take to protect Kash. The step he wanted to take. He also knew he should not. Kash could not have been clearer.

  He mulled over the decision as both Epstein and Cole answered Levitt’s question.

  ‘Not from me, My Lord.’

  ‘Nor me.’

  Then it was Michael’s turn, and in that moment he made the decision. He would do what he should not. What his conscience told him was right.

  Michael rose to his feet.

  ‘Actually there is something, My Lord.’

  All eyes in the room were on him. Even his own team – Draper and Ross – did not know what he was about to say.

  ‘I have reason to believe that my client is suffering the undue influence of his co-defendant in this case. To Mr Kash’s significant detriment. I therefore respectfully request that My Lord orders that the defendants be kept apart while in the court cells, and that further guards are present in the dock throughout the trial to further protect Mr Kash. And I request that My Lord orders that Mr Kash be taken to a different prison to his co-defendant this evening, on separate prison transportation, and that this arrangement stays in place throughout the trial.’

  Michael took his seat without another word, while the courtroom erupted around him.

  TWENTY-NINE

  ‘I take it what you did in there wasn’t in the script?’

  Michael had not seen Sarah in the public gallery, watching her fiancé work. The gallery was thirty feet up from the courtroom, out of the barristers’ sight, with its entrance on a different street.

  Sarah had left the gallery once the arguments started. She had seen from Michael’s body language that he would not be engaging in them; he had said his piece and that was that. It was a dogged stubbornness she recognised, and one she both loved and dreaded.

  Instead she had made her way outside and walked the short distance to Old Bailey – the street from which the Central Criminal Court took its far more famous nickname – and down it to the court building’s entrance. That had been thirty minutes ago, which was a longer wait than Sarah had expected. Not that it was a problem: another scorching day had given way to another balmy evening, and so it was just a pleasure to be outside.

  ‘No, it wasn’t in the script!’ Michael laughed, reaching out and kissing her hello. ‘And neither was this. Thanks for the lovely surprise.’

  ‘Too many late nights recently,’ Sarah explained. ‘I thought I deserved an early one tonight, and some one-on-one time with my man.’

  ‘And what a lucky man he is.’

  Michael kissed Sarah again. Longer this time. Even when their lips separated their foreheads still touched. An intimate moment that neither wanted to end. They would not be so lucky. The sound of the court building’s heavy metal door broke through, and a woman Sarah did not recognise walked towards them.

  ‘Jenny. I didn’t realise you were behind me.’ Michael stepped back. It gave Sarah both room to move and a clear view of Draper. ‘Let me introduce you. Jenny, this is my fiancée, Sarah. Sarah, this is my junior. Jenny Draper.’

  ‘Pleasure to meet you, Jenny.’

  Sarah held out her hand. Draper took it with a friendly smile.

  ‘You too, Sarah. I’m a big fan of your work.’

  Draper’s eyes were already leaving Sarah’s as she spoke, and within an instant she had turned back to face Michael. Sarah rolled her eyes in a mixture of amusement and annoyance. She was sure that Draper had intentionally positioned herself partly in front of Sarah, physically excluding her from the conversation.

  ‘Simon is refusing to speak at all, Michael. He’s absolutely terrified.’

  ‘I told you he would be,’ Michael replied. ‘It’s all in the moment for him. But trust me. A few days outside of O’Driscoll’s influence and he’ll come out of himself. We needed them separated.’

  ‘But he didn’t tell us to do that, Michael,’ Draper said.

  ‘He didn’t tell us not to, either,’ Michael replied.

  ‘Kash’s wishes were still clear. Whether he said it expressly or not.’

  ‘Which we disagree on,’ Michael replied, his voice staying lighthearted. ‘If I’ve misread him then it’s on me, isn’t it?’

  Sarah knew that tone and watched the exchange with some satisfaction. Draper was wasting her breath. Michael had made a decision and he was not going to be swayed.

  ‘OK, but what about Cole?’ Draper asked. ‘How is he going to take what you did? The message it sends about his guy?’

  ‘Matt won’t give a monkey’s,’ Michael replied. ‘The jury won’t notice the extra security. And they won’t know which prison they’re both held at. It makes no difference to O’Driscoll at all, so Cole won’t care.’

  ‘He certainly seemed like he did,’ Draper argued. ‘His objection was pretty angry.’

  ‘That was for his client’s benefit, Jenny. Don’t be fooled by it. Matt’s pleased with what I did.’

  ‘Pleased?’

  ‘Because it tells him where we’re going. I’ve separated the boys. Matt knows I’ve done that so we can influence Kash. So we can convince him into letting us attack O’Driscoll. So now Matt knows what he’s up against. He’ll be happy we’ve drawn the battle lines.’

  Sarah watched with a smile as Draper was lost for words. It was not the first time she had seen Michael have that effect, but she enjoyed it more on someone who had been so instantly arrogant.

  Michael’s approach was unorthodox. Sarah knew that. He was motivated far more by doing the right thing than he was by abiding by rules when they made that impossible. It was a risky way of working – one which had brought him close to the edge a number of times – but ultimately Michael could not live with himself if someone else paid the price for protecting his professional skin. That was why he was willing to stand up and protect the likes of Simon Kash from their own bad decisions. And it was why, Sarah knew, most lawyers struggled to work with him.

  Draper will be no exception, Sarah thought. She’s a classic barrister. By the book. Which means the Michael Devlin way will not be a natural fit.

  ‘OK, that’s enough law for one day,’ Sarah said, stepping forward.

  She reached out and took Michael by the hand. It turned him towards her and he smiled. If her words could be called a hint, that hint had been taken.

  They both turned back to face Draper.

  ‘Sarah’s right, Jenny,’ Michael said. ‘Time to call it a day. It’s not often we get to travel home together. I’m not going to miss the chance now.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Sorry. OK.’ Draper seemed caught off guard by the abrupt end of their discussion, Sarah noted with pleasure. ‘Well, then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Michael.’

  ‘I guess you will. 9 a.m. in the Bar Mess?’

  ‘Yes, perfect. I’ll see you then. Have a lovely night.’

  ‘And you.’

  ‘Goodnight, Jenny,’ Sarah called as Draper began to turn, not quite believing that she had done so without a goodbye. ‘It was nice to meet you.’

  ‘Oh, yeah.’ Draper turned. She seemed surprised by Sarah’s farewell. ‘You too, Sarah. You too.’

  Draper turned away again and began to walk away, towards Holborn and Gray’s Inn.

  Michael and Sarah watched her go. Just for a few moments.

  ‘Well she’s interesting.’

  Sarah’s observation was pointed. She made no attempt to hide it.

  ‘You think?’ Michael laughed as he placed his
arm affectionately around Sarah’s shoulder. Sarah wrapped her right arm around Michael’s lower back in response as they began to stroll in the evening sun towards Ludgate Hill, in the opposite direction to Draper.

  ‘I’m pretty sure I don’t like her,’ Sarah admitted. ‘The way she looked right through me.’

  ‘I get the impression she’s not a girl’s girl.’

  ‘And then some. How long before she makes a move on you?’

  ‘Does it matter, sweetheart? It’s not like she’ll be getting anywhere, is it?’ Sarah looked up at him, raising an eyebrow in response. Michael would have to do better than that

  ‘OK, OK. Look, I’ll find a way to palm her off on Matt before she tries. He’ll be happy to step in.’

  ‘So you’ve thought this through then.’ Sarah laughed at Michael’s nonchalance, tightening her grip around him. ‘Don’t be so sure she’ll go for Matt. You’re much more handsome.’

  ‘Thanks, gorgeous. But he’s much more successful. They don’t come bigger than Matt Cole. That means more to girls like Jenny Draper than a face.’

  ‘Just watch her, Mikey.’ Sarah was no longer laughing, and she had called Michael by the name only Anne Flaherty used. Sarah did it rarely. When she did, she knew Michael listened. ‘She’s got an agenda.’

  ‘Now you sound like Derek.’ Michael stopped and turned her to face him. ‘But believe me, sweetheart, you’ve nothing to worry about. There’s only one girl for me.’

  Satisfied, Sarah allowed Michael to pull her close again, as they continued their walk in comfortable silence.

  ‘DEVLIN!’

  Sarah felt Michael loosen his grip immediately in response to his name. The voice that had shouted it had not sounded friendly.

  Both Michael and Sarah turned and saw a young man walking towards them.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Michael took his arm from Sarah’s shoulders and stepped in front of her as he spoke. She was both amused and grateful at his instinctive reaction to protect her.

  ‘I think you can, yeah.’ The man had lowered his voice, but his tone was no less threatening. ‘I wanna know what went on in there today.’

  ‘And who might you be?’

  ‘I’m Patrick O’Driscoll. Darren’s brother. And I wanna know what you were doin’, slagging off my brother like that.’

  ‘Then speak to your brother’s lawyer,’ Michael replied. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you.’

  O’Driscoll did not move. His stance said that he had no intention of it.

  ‘You said my brother’s bullying Simon Kash. Where’d you hear that? Did Simon say it?’

  ‘I just told you, Mr O’Driscoll. Speak to your brother’s lawyer. Because you’re not speaking to me. Now get out of the way.’

  ‘You don’t wanna ignore me, Devlin.’ O’Driscoll stepped closer as he spoke. Within inches of Michael. ‘Bad things can happen. Even to the likes of you.’

  Sarah looked down as O’Driscoll spoke and saw that Michael had clenched his right fist. Tight. She knew he would be running through his options. Preparing for the worst of them.

  ‘Don’t make a stupid mistake here, son.’ Michael’s voice had lowered. It was unwavering. ‘Don’t think that what I do for a living makes me a victim. I’ve been dealing with shit like you since I was a kid. It won’t worry me to flush another one.’

  O’Driscoll took a step back in confusion, clearly unprepared for this response. Sarah had seen it before. No one else ever expected Michael to react in the way he just had. But then no one else knew the real Michael Devlin. The boy from the streets of Belfast who would do anything to win.

  O’Driscoll seemed unsure how to react. Unsure what to do next.

  Michael was not. O’Driscoll’s backwards step was a sign of weakness, and Michael’s peculiar upbringing had taught him how to exploit that moment. He stepped forward, closing the distance that O’Driscoll had put between them.

  ‘What’s it going to be, Patrick? Are you going to do yourself a favour and fuck off? Or do I need to leave you in that gutter there?’

  Sarah could see the realisation dawn on O’Driscoll’s face. This was no soft lawyer in front of him. This was a bigger man. A stronger man. A man whose eyes said that he could deliver on his threat.

  ‘Take this as fair warning, Devlin,’ O’Driscoll growled, trying to save face. As he spoke he stepped hastily backwards, putting a few metres between himself and Michael. It made a mockery of his own parting threats. ‘Any more of this shit against my brother and I’ll be paying you a visit. You and your missus there. And it won’t just be me.’

  ‘YOU’D BETTER MAKE SURE IT’S NOT JUST YOU!’ Michael shouted as the younger man retreated, his two fists now gripped vice-like. Sarah had feared that O’Driscoll’s mention of her would strike a nerve, and she had been right. Michael was suddenly close to losing control.

  ‘BECAUSE YOU COME ALONE AND YOU WON’T LEAVE BREATHING!’ He continued to shout, pulling his arm free of Sarah’s as he did so. ‘YOU HEAR ME? YOU WON’T LEAVE BREATHING!’

  Sarah could tell that he was itching to run. To chase O’Driscoll down. And so she made the decision for him. She grasped his hand tight, pulling him back towards her.

  ‘Calm, Mikey.’ Sarah’s voice was soothing. ‘Calm.’

  Michael turned towards Sarah’s voice. His eyes met hers but they did not focus. Sarah could tell that he was struggling. That his control was on a knife edge.

  Desperate, she took his face into her hands and stared hard into his eyes.

  ‘Calm down, Mikey,’ Sarah repeated. ‘It’s just a stupid boy making stupid threats. It’s not worth the trouble. All we have to do is call the police. We know who he is. We know what this was about. We just need to call the police. So calm. Just calm.’

  Michael’s eyes began to focus. Sarah’s words were getting through the fog.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ The shame in Michael’s eyes said that he meant it. Sarah did not need that proof. She knew him better than he knew himself. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You don’t have to say sorry.’ Sarah reached into her handbag as she spoke and took out her mobile phone. ‘I’d have lost it too, if that little shit had said that to me.’

  She tapped a number into the phone. Eleven digits. Michael had been expecting three nines.

  ‘Who are you calling?’

  ‘A new friend,’ Sarah replied. ‘One who’ll make Patrick O’Driscoll regret every word he just said.’

  THIRTY

  ‘What time was he brought in?’

  Joelle Levy was at her desk with her telephone at her ear. She glanced at the clock and noted the time. 9 p.m. Richard’s bedtime. Levy had missed it again. The familiar guilt ate at her gut.

  ‘OK. Has anyone spoken to Sarah Truman and Michael Devlin?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ came the answer. ‘They thanked us for picking O’Driscoll up, but neither one wanted to make a witness statement.’

  ‘I didn’t think they would. In that case, interview him, hold him until his twenty-four hours are up and then release him without charge.’

  ‘Ma’am?’ The caller sounded confused. ‘That’s not appropriate if we know we won’t be getting any evidence. Why would—’

  ‘Because I said so, Sergeant. If anything comes of it, I’ll make it clear you were acting on my instruction. Just hold him.’

  Levy placed the receiver into the phone dock and shook her head. Having her judgement questioned by a police sergeant was irritating, but that was especially true when the sergeant was right. Levy had known that neither Sarah nor her fiancé would make a witness statement against Patrick O’Driscoll. Sarah had been clear about that in her call; that it would make it too difficult for Michael to continue as Simon Kash’s lawyer.

  Without those statements there was no real evidence to justify the arrest. Less still to keep O’Driscoll in custody for twenty-four hours. The sergeant had reminded Levy of this, but a debt was a debt, and Levy still felt that she owed Sarah.

  Levy did
not have time to dwell on her irritation. A knock at her office door forced it from her mind.

  ‘Come in.’

  Steve Hale looked tired. The darkness beneath his eyes was the first thing Levy noticed. The pressure of a high-profile murder had already taken a toll. It could hit that quickly. Levy knew from experience.

  Levy gestured to the two chairs ahead of her desk. Hale took the right-hand seat, his usual choice. As he sat, Levy opened her desk drawer, took out two glass tumblers and poured a large measure of Jack Daniels into each.

  Hale reached out, took his glass and touched it to Levy’s own.

  ‘L’chaim.’ Hale used the Hebrew version of cheers. He always did when drinking with Levy.

  ‘Cheers,’ Levy used the English. Repaying the gesture. An unconscious ritual.

  Both Levy and Hale savoured the sweet bourbon, with Hale taking a second sip before speaking.

  ‘How’s it looking? Any luck locating this Penfold guy?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Levy replied. ‘We’ve spoken to his probation officer. Turns out he missed his last two appointments. For some reason it wasn’t reported, despite Penfold being on licence. Which is something the probation officer will have to answer for in the long run, but for now we’ve got to concentrate on finding the bastard.’

  ‘Then for the PO’s sake I hope Penfold isn’t your man. The shit-storm of not reporting a guy on a life-licence while he’s on a bloody killing spree? That’s just not worth thinking about.’

  ‘Well for my sake I hope he is our guy, Steve.’ Levy had no sympathy for a probation officer who had not done his job. ‘Because if it’s not him, well, then we’re all out of leads.’

  ‘But what about the other files? There were six potential suspects, weren’t there?’

  ‘There were, yeah. But only Wisdom Penfold held up. The rest were a mix of too old or too sick. And for the most part motive-free.’

  ‘You’ve traced them all already?’

  ‘Not all of them yet. The only other one with any suggestion of violence on his record was simple enough as he’s on a life-licence. Required to keep the authorities informed of his whereabouts at all times. We’ve seen him already and he’s no good for this. And we’ve seen two of the other four; no violence on their record, no motive in respect of either victim. And the last two we’re still tracking down but from what’s in their files we can pretty much discount them already; again, no obvious motives and both are older than Longman was, assuming either is still alive.’