by Vic Marelle
‘Can I have a few minutes with my client please?’ asked the solicitor.
‘Of course,’ responded Radcliffe. We will be back in five minutes. I suggest that you talk a little sense into your client before we get back.’
Fraser announced the termination of the interview and switched off the tape, restarting it when they returned a few minutes later.
‘My client wants to cooperate fully Inspector,’ said the solicitor, opening the session. ‘He does have several reservations however. In particular he is concerned for his safety. If it got out that he had given you information then he would be a prime target.’ Getting into his stride, the lawyer established direct eye contact and stated his client’s price. ‘My client wants to cooperate but will need full immunity from prosecution himself and protection.’
Radcliffe considered the two men in front of him, one timid and obviously on the verge of crumbling anyway, the other attempting to create a hard bargaining force. The two did not gel.
‘I think that you know better that that,’ he replied. ‘As yet we do not know the extent of your client’s involvement so there is no way I could enter into any bargain. I don’t think that he’s very far up the ladder and he may not actually have broken the law himself, but I do believe that he has some of the information I need. So if he delivers to me, I will do my utmost to support him. I can promise no more than that.’
Turning to face the young man he added, ‘Like I said son, it’s your choice. Do we start now or do you want to go back to your cell and just await the outcome?’
Just the word “cell” had a remarkable effect. Though clean, its painted bare brick walls and a simple built in bunk did nothing to combat any feeling of austerity, a toilet in the corner underscoring the difference between room and cell, bringing into sharp focus it’s purpose.
‘Ask yer questions,’ he said. ‘They din’t tell me nowt, but peraps I might know what yer want know. I might of bin around when summat were said like.’
Radcliffe hated the sloppy way in which the younger generation now communicated. Email and text messaging had resulted in today’s youth speaking in abbreviations, leaving out some words completely and mispronouncing others. Pronouncing, “have” as “of” particularly grated.
‘That’s better son,’ he replied, again opening the folder. ‘Now, what’s your part in all this?’
‘I just drive cars.’
‘From where to where?’ replied Radcliffe. ‘And how often?’
‘About once a month, he phones me to do a job. We drive five or six cars to the same place. There’s usually a couple a containers like. Ya know, like this mornin. Then he pays us and we go.’
‘From where do you collect the cars, is it always the same place? And do you always drive them to the same place as well?’
‘No. Each of us usually takes a couple of cars from different places but we all met up at same place. My run used be from a big ‘ouse out int country, Billy drove his from a farm and Pete from that unit near tut railway but this time all’t cars were at the same place near tut train line. We allers take em tut same place though.’
That fitted what they already knew thought Radcliffe. Three holding points meant that too many cars wouldn’t be seen coming and going from one place. In the next room, Billy had told them as much just half an hour earlier. The big house would be the former Catholic College and they knew about the farm near Burscough. Bringing cars together once per month would be for distribution – or transportation to the ultimate client.
‘Who telephones you and gives you details of each job then?’
The young man reverted to his original attitude, scared and non-committal. ‘Don’t know,’ he said sheepishly.
‘That’s a load of shit Gerry,’ burst in Fraser. ‘If somebody phoned me every month I would soon recognise the voice. I’d soon recognise if it were the same man calling me too. Now then Gerry, who calls you and is it always the same person?’
‘Fraser,’ replied the lad after a pause. ‘Fraser Downing,’ pausing again before adding ‘Always.’
‘Always?’
‘Yes, always.’
‘So who’s the boss then? Who is Mr Big?’
‘I can’t tell you that. I’ll be in deep shit if I do.’
‘You already are,’ advised Radcliffe. ‘Answer the question Gerry, who is the boss.’
‘They’ll kill me for this,’ responded the young man. ‘Fraser is one and Edward’s the other. They run it together.’
‘OK Gerry. So what do they do? Do they nick the cars? Or perhaps they do the work on the numbers?’
‘No. No, they do nowt.’
Having been pushed over the break point and with nothing more to lose, young Gerry was now offering information without being asked. Perhaps he was worried about what his friend Billy had divulged. Or perhaps he wanted to outdo Billy to gain a better deal. Whatever the reason, Radcliffe sensed that between them Gerry and Billy might be able to provide the information that would break the case. Whether he would later retract his claims remained to be seen. For now Radcliffe had a gut feeling that not only core information but also loose ends might be being tied up. Though right at the bottom of the pile, the drivers appeared to know more than was healthy for them and Gerry had no doubt been wise to be scared. Perhaps the time had come to turn the screws.
‘If they are the bosses then they cannot do nothing Gerry,’ observed Radcliffe.
‘The cars you drive every month have all been stolen Gerry,’ added Fraser. ‘Somebody steals them, somebody takes them to where they are stored, somebody changes their details and in some cases, somebody disables their tracker units. Where do you, Billy, and the other drivers fit in? And, since you say that you don’t steal them or do any of the other work, who does? Is it this Fraser and Edward?’
‘Shit nah,’ responded Gerry. ‘Thi do nowt. Thi wunt git ther ‘ands dirty them two.’
‘Why not Gerry?’
‘Well,’ he replied, ‘thi dunt want git ther poncy clothes dirty do thi?’
‘OK Gerry,’ cut in Radcliffe, ‘let’s take a step backwards shall we? I want to establish two things. First off, who the mysterious Fraser and Edward are and what they do when they are not disposing of stolen cars. Then I want to know exactly who does steal them, who changes their identities and so forth.’ Putting on his friendly uncle expression, Radcliffe ended with, ‘Then we’re through Gerry.’
‘Does that mean my client will be released without charge?’ asked the solicitor.
‘What happens next depends on a lot of things,’ said Radcliffe, ‘but you can rest assured that once we have what we need, for my part I will do whatever I can to support him. Within the limitations of the law of course.’
‘But you promised . . . .’
‘I promised my support,’ responded the DI, ‘and I keep my promises. But you wouldn’t expect me to do anything illegal would you?’
When neither of the men opposite him responded, he just said, ‘Well, are you going to tell me or not Gerry?’
‘Edward has some sort of company I think,’ said Gerry, ‘and Fraser as well, but I don’t know what. They’re allers dressed up like. Posh suits and them cuff link things. Yer wunt get them under a car or nicking it.’ Thinking for a while he added, ‘’I’ve never seen ‘em touch one ert cars come ter think o’ it.’
‘That’s not surprising,’ said Fraser. ‘They wouldn’t want their fingerprints on them in case their nice little earner came to light would they?’
‘Like it has,’ added Radcliffe. ‘Now then, this Fraser guy, what does he look like?’
‘Just a normal bloke really,’ replied the young man.
‘Are you sure that he is really called Fraser?’ asked the DS. ‘My name is Fraser too, but it’s my last name.’
‘It must be. He’s got his initials on his number plate. It’s FJD something or other – I can’t remember the numbers.’
‘So what about Edward, what’s his last name then?’
‘How do I fuckin know? He guz mad if yer call ‘im Eddie or Ted – won’t answer to anything other than Edward. And I’ve never known ‘is last name ‘av I?’
‘All right then Gerry,’ said Radcliffe taking a photograph out of his folder and sliding it across the table. ‘Don’t get shirty lad. Is this the mysterious Edward?’
‘No. That’s Fraser Downing.’
‘OK Gerry. Now we are getting somewhere.’ Sliding another photo across, Radcliffe added, ‘so who is this then? It was taken today when you were delivering your cars to the depot near the Post office. That’s you in the Ferrari isn’t it? So who is talking to you? I thought that that was Downing.’
Looking at the photograph, Gerry gulped. He had been caught on camera. No way could he claim innocence, for the proof was in the photograph in front of him.
‘Yes, that’s me,’ he said. ‘But I weren’t doing owt. I were just driving it like. That’s Edward. He were tellin me to leave the car round the back near to the container and then get a lift back with Fraser coz there were another car fer mi to drive.’
‘Thank you Gerry,’ said Radcliffe, so who nicks the cars and gets them ready for shipping out then?’ asked Radcliffe.
‘Patrick does some work on them I think, but I don’t know who nicks them.’ Looking first at Fraser then Radcliffe he added, ‘Honest. I don’t know who nicks them. I just drive a couple of cars once month.’
‘That’s fine Gerry,’ responded Radcliffe with a smile. ‘You have been very helpful. Now I can’t release you straight away because we need to check some of the information you have given us and I also have a duty to protect you as far as I can and I can’t do that if you are not here so you will need to stay for a little while longer.’ Slipping the photographs back into the folder and picking it up he stood up, pushed his chair back and left the room.
‘DI Radcliffe has just left the room,’ said Fraser for the benefit of the recording. ‘Interview closed at three thirty one.’
……….
“Good result Don. That confirmed Rick’s involvement.’
‘Maybe, but there are still some holes to be filled’ replied Radcliffe, dropping into his chair. ‘Am I glad to get up here into my own office and my own chair. I keep telling them to keep the chairs on one side of the table hard and uncomfortable but to change ours for something pleasanter. Nobody takes any notice though.’
‘Those photos were a shock though,’ continued Fraser. ‘I mean, Fraser and Edward were a surprise weren’t they? I couldn’t have kept it to myself like you did. I am surprised you didn’t tell young Gerry what line of business they were in too. Why didn’t you?’
Not answering directly, Radcliffe held his sergeant’s stare. ‘I’ve had to manage this very carefully and convincing Liverpool not to take the case off us wasn’t easy. I don’t want anything leaking out before we make our move – and that includes in the station. For now we keep everything to ourselves Kyle, this is on a need to know basis until I decide otherwise.’ Pushing the folder into a drawer he turned to Fraser and added, ‘I need a coffee Kyle, are you joining me?’
‘Do I interpret that as “will you make us both a coffee Kyle?” responded the sergeant with a smile.
‘You must be a detective,’ replied Radcliffe, matching his smile. ‘Make it snappy though will you, I need to get back downstairs to the interview rooms because Debbie will be waiting. This is building into a busy afternoon.’
……….
‘Well well well,’ said Radcliffe, ‘we meet again Edward.’
‘Inspector, as you well know, my name isn’t bloody Edward.’
‘I must remind you that this interview is being recorded and that you have been identified by three different people as being called Edward. Most of what you’ve told us so far hasn’t turned out to be true so for the time being I’ll have to act on what I am being told by those whose claims match won’t I Edward?’
‘Inspector,’ cut in Edward’s solicitor. ‘You really cannot keep this up. My client is not called Edward and you are aware of his real name. I suggest that you use it.’
‘Do you Mr Preston?’ countered Radcliffe. ‘For your information, we ran checks on your client after our previous chats and he doesn’t seem to be who he pretends to be. So as I said, we will continue to refer to him as Edward until I get positive evidence to the contrary.’
‘Now then Edward,’ said Radcliffe, ‘you were stopped by a traffic patrol on Woodmoss Lane and brought here. Would you like to tell me what you were doing at the rear of premises near the Post Office on Bescar Lane immediately prior to being stopped?’
‘I wasn’t on Bescar Lane.’
‘Or why you were helping to load expensive cars into sea containers. I use the word “helping” loosely here Edward, perhaps I should say, “organising” instead.’
‘Really Inspector,’ cut in Preston. ‘You know that my client’s name is not Edward and he has already told you that he hasn’t been anywhere near Bescar Lane. What don’t you understand about that?’
‘Three people have identified your client as Edward. And I know that before our officers picked him up, your client – whatever his name is – was organising cars being stashed away in sea containers. Stolen cars I must add. I understand all of that Mr Preston so stop wasting everyone’s time.’
‘I’ve not been to that part of Bescar Lane,’ responded Edward. ‘I was driving back from the A59 and I took a short cut that brought me out at the junction of Bescar Lane and Woodmoss Lane. You know, where the little church is.’
Radcliffe nodded.
‘All I did was drive straight over the cross roads onto Woodmoss. I didn’t turn onto Bescar at all. Then about a mile on, your patrol stopped me.’ Looking directly at Radcilffe he said, ‘that’s all.’
Radcliffe nodded but said nothing. Edward looked at his questioner, but bordering on deadpan his expression gave nothing away.
Turning to Lescott, imperceptibly Radcliffe nodded again. Taking her cue, Lescott slowly folded back the flap on a large envelope, drew out a photograph and placed it on the table in front of Edward. One by one she placed more prints by its side until six photographs formed a solid line across the table, neatly separating the two detectives from the solicitor and his client. Starting at one end with the picture Gerry had identified less than fifteen minutes earlier, the sequence clearly showed Edward directing the loading of cars into the sea containers, getting into a car himself and then, in the final picture, turning into Bescar lane from an entry at the side of the Post Office.
Breaking the silence, Radcliffe said, ‘Perhaps these will jog your memory Edward.’
Accepting the obvious – that insisting on his innocence would be pointless – Edward agreed that Radcliffe’s accusation was indeed correct. Yes, as the photographs confirmed, he had been involved with the loading of cars into sea containers. But he had not done anything else. He did not know that the cars had been stolen and had no involvement in how they had been procured. Unlike the young Gerry, Edward had not been gushing with this information. Radcliffe and Lescott had needed to prise it out of him, with his responses being mainly monosyllable with only the occasional amplification.
The detectives had pointed to individuals in the photographs. Edward had identified the drivers as Gerry, Billy and Leon, confirming the claims of the two men already interviewed. Either the information was correct or they were all working to a prearranged script. Lescott had pointed to a man in one picture who appeared to be standing back watching the operation but not actually being involved. In another picture the same man could be seen stood next to Edward, the two deep in conversation. Edward identified him as Fraser Downing. Asked what Downing did for a living – other than handling stolen cars – Edward claimed not to know specific details but had assumed from Downing’s appearance and contacts that some of the businesses he was involved in were big operations. Buying late model expensive cars and exporting them was one business but Edward had no idea wha
t the others were. As far as Radcliffe was concerned, so far, all accounts tallied.
Lescott had questioned Edward repeatedly about the photograph showing him talking to Downing. What were they talking about, how often did they meet, what was their relationship, were they partners? As the questions became closer to being accusations, Edward had become more vocal in his denials. His replies became longer and when Radcliffe and Lescott remained silent he started to offer information of his own volition.
No, he was not a partner, and no, as he had already stated, the cars were not stolen but legitimate pre-owned exports. Edward insisted that Downing was the boss and employed him on a casual – though regular – basis to organise and oversee the transportation of vehicles. Downing would call him about once per month and tell him how many cars were to be driven from which locations to the loading point. It was always the same loading point. Downing called the drivers and Edward would take over when they arrived at the loading point. Edward would already have arranged for the transport company to bring the container trucks but Downing handled all the paperwork.
‘So why, in the scheme of things, did you not realise that you were transporting stolen cars?’ asked Lescott.
‘That’s what I am telling you,’ responded Edward, ‘they are not stolen. Downing Exports is a legitimate car export business. It’s just that he is so busy with his other companies that he employs me on a casual basis to move the cars from where they are stored, load them into the containers and move them out.’
‘OK Edward,’ said Radcliffe. ‘So why does he need you if you are not partners? Why does he not just load up at where the cars have been stored?’
‘You can’t go from place to place with the container trucks picking one car up here and a couple somewhere else,’ answered Edward. ‘Downing has storage facilities in several different places and they never all come from the same one. Except for today that is.’
‘Does he own the places where he stores the cars then?’
But Edward didn’t know the answer to that. He usually had to arrange for cars to be collected from three different storage facilities: a farm just off the A59, a big mansion in the country and the warehouse at Scarisbrick. Downing stored a number of cars at each but there were other users too – he had seen half a dozen classic cars at the mansion for example. Perhaps Downing rented space. Or perhaps he owned them. Edward didn’t know and hadn’t asked.
