Diary of a War Crime

by Simon McCleave

  ‘Yeah,’ Lucy said as she wiped her tear-streaked face.

  Ruth walked over to Petrovic. ‘Get up,’ she barked.

  Petrovic looked like a broken man as he climbed slowly to his feet. He looked at her with disdain.

  For a few seconds, Ruth looked over at Lucy who was crouched by her father’s grave. Her lips were moving as if she was talking to him.

  Ruth nudged Petrovic in the back as they headed towards the car park. ‘Come on. We don’t want you to miss lunch on the VP wing, eh?’

  CHAPTER 35

  It was mid-afternoon, and Ruth and Lucy had been with Brooks in his office for nearly twenty minutes. Ruth had plied Lucy with coffee and water to sober her up. Lucy had insisted that she didn’t want to go home and be on her own after such a traumatic morning. She wanted to be at work, keeping busy. And Ruth could be there for some mutual support.

  ‘Everything went okay getting Petrovic to Wandsworth?’ Brooks asked, leaning back in his seat.

  Ruth looked at Lucy for a moment – If only he knew!

  ‘Yeah. No problem,’ Lucy said.

  ‘He was grumbling something about cutting himself shaving and having a sore leg, but yeah, no hitches,’ Ruth said.

  ‘According to the Home Office, he’ll be in a cell in The Hague by the end of the week,’ Brooks said.

  Lucy glanced at Ruth. ‘Good to hear. At least some of his victims will get the justice they deserve,’ she said with a slight slur.

  Brooks frowned and looked at them. ‘You two been drinking?’

  ‘Boozy lunch to celebrate, guv,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Well don’t get nicked for drink driving on the way home, eh?’ he said as he took a copy of a newspaper and tossed it over to them. ‘You seen this yet?’

  Ruth wondered what he was talking about. ‘No, we’ve been a bit busy.’

  ‘Busy getting pissed in the pub,’ he laughed.

  Taking the paper, Lucy looked over at him. ‘What are we looking at?’

  ‘Page 4, inside. It’s the only story that’s not about the election.’

  Ruth watched Lucy as she opened the paper, looked at the story, and began to read. ‘Dirty Money – Links between Tory Party funding, a multi-national oil company, and a Serbian war criminal. An investigation has revealed that an unnamed Serbian man, who brokered a $1.7 billion oil deal between the global oil giant Natell and Yugopetrol, donated over half a million pounds to the Conservative Party last year. The man, who cannot yet be named, is wanted by The Hague International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia. A spokesman for the Conservative party claimed that all donors are carefully vetted before any donations can be made.’

  ‘That last sentence is bullshit!’ Ruth said.

  Lucy closed the paper and shook her head. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means that very little will be done to investigate. Tankovic has not only been allowed to live freely in this country and become a very wealthy man, he is also a major donor to the current government,’ Ruth said bitterly.

  ‘I have a nasty feeling that it won’t go any further. There’s too much at stake for too many rich and powerful people. Talking of which, have we voted yet today, ladies?’ Brooks asked, sitting forward at his desk.

  Ruth nodded. ‘I went before work.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure that I was going to bother,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Changed your mind?’ Brooks asked.

  ‘A lot of people have fought and died so that we can live in a democracy. Sometimes I forget that. And if I don’t vote, it seems like an insult to them.’

  ‘Wise words,’ Brooks said. ‘I have a suggestion - in fact, it’s an order.’

  ‘Fire away,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Get your things together. Lucy - you go and vote, and then both of you take the rest of the day off. Go and relax.’

  Ruth looked at Lucy and shrugged. ‘I’m knackered, aren’t you?’

  Lucy nodded and smiled. ‘Thanks, guv. It’s not true what they say. You are a good bloke.’

  Brooks laughed.

  Thank God. Lucy is starting to sound like her old self.

  ‘Bloody cheek. Go on, you two. Sod off. And I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day.’

  Ruth and Lucy got up and headed out of the door.

  HAVING GOT THEIR STUFF together, Ruth and Lucy walked out of Peckham nick together and headed for the car park. It was warm, and there was the smell of freshly cut grass from the nearby playing fields. Ruth took a deep breath and got the scent of the spring flowers that were interwoven through the wire mesh fence that surrounded the car park. Honeysuckles, primroses, and bluebells. They might have been in South London but, for a moment, it smelled as if they were in the countryside.

  They walked together for a few seconds in silence. The sun was bright enough to cast elongated shadows as they went.

  ‘Sunglasses weather?’ Lucy asked, as she gazed up at the sky.

  ‘Definitely,’ Ruth said with a smile and nod. ‘You okay to drive?’

  ‘Just about.’

  They reached Lucy’s car and looked at each other.

  ‘Thank God this week is nearly over!’ Ruth said with a deep sigh.

  Lucy didn’t immediately respond, and for a moment there was a heavy silence. ‘I don’t know what to say to you,’ Lucy said eventually.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything.’

  ‘Today could have gone so differently,’ she said with a tear in her eye.

  ‘It didn’t though, did it? You made that man face what he had done. And now he will face justice.’

  Lucy’s lip trembled. ‘But I was going to kill him.’

  ‘I know Lucy, but you didn’t. And it’s over. We got him. And your dad would have been proud of how hard you worked to track him down,’ Ruth said putting a comforting arm on Lucy’s.

  ‘Thank you,’ Lucy said as she moved to hug Ruth. ‘What would I do without you?’

  ‘Works both ways. Go and vote, and then get some sleep, eh?’

  Lucy pulled a face. ‘I might do ... later.’

  Ruth knew what Lucy was getting at. ‘I thought you weren’t seeing anyone. Or is this Man Boy again?’

  ‘There is someone I see off and on,’ Lucy admitted. ‘But it’s different.’

  ‘You mean it’s not casual?’ Ruth asked, taking the piss.

  Lucy thought about it for a moment. ‘I don’t know ... No, I don’t think it is. But he is married.’

  ‘Right. That’s what they say, isn’t it? All the decent men are married - or they’re gay.’

  Lucy laughed. ‘What about you? Election night party?’

  ‘My friend Shiori is coming over for a few drinks. I guess we’ll watch the election results coming in,’ Ruth said, trying not to show how she actually felt.

  ‘You two are seeing a lot of each other?’

  ‘We just click, that’s all.’

  Lucy raised an eyebrow. ‘Shame she’s not a bloke, eh?’

  ‘I guess so. Think I’ve had enough of men for the moment.’

  Lucy unlocked her car. ‘Have a good evening, eh? And thank you, Ruth.’

  ‘Drive carefully. And if everything goes as they’re predicting, we can celebrate a New Labour government tomorrow.’

  Lucy got into her car, waved, and closed the door.

  Ruth got out her sunglasses, put them on, and turned to cross the car park to her own car.

  CHAPTER 36

  Lucy was slumped on the sofa looking through her family photograph album again. Even though she knew it wasn’t a good idea, she was drinking vodka. Just enough to keep her numb for the rest of the day.

  She turned a page and stared at the photograph of her dad. It was the one she’d seen last night. Looking at his protective, tattooed forearm around her, she remembered running her tiny hand down it. She recalled telling him it was too hairy, and that he was like a monkey. Then she remembered giggling at his silly monkey impression. Life was so precious, and it could disappear in the blink
of an eye.

  Sipping her vodka and wiping the tears from her face, she felt glad that she had spoken to her dad today at his graveside. She had found his death so painful and wasn’t sure that she had ever allowed herself to grieve properly. In fact, she knew she’d pretended that it had never happened.

  However abnormal and irrational her actions had been today, she had taken a step towards acknowledging that he was gone. At his graveside, she had told him everything that had happened and why she had brought Petrovic with her. Now that she thought about it, she knew Ruth had been right. Despite what Petrovic had done, her dad would have believed that he needed to be punished through the courts – not by her hand.

  The phone rang and Lucy could see from the caller ID it was her mum.

  Lucy picked up the phone but was still deep in thought. ‘Mum?’

  ‘Lucy, how are you? I tried to call you last night, but then I went out with Sandra to the bingo.’

  ‘Did you win?’

  ‘What do you think? Bloody waste of money but it gets me out of the house.’

  ‘I wanted to ask you something, Mum.’

  ‘You okay, darling? You sound a bit upset?’

  ‘I’m all right. Long day at work, that’s all.’

  ‘I don’t know how you do it. What is it? Everything okay?’ Her mum now sounded concerned.

  ‘Fine, don’t worry. I just wanted to ask if you’d come to Dad’s grave with me sometime?’

  There were a few seconds of silence. ‘I didn’t think you liked to go down there, Lucy.’

  ‘No, I know. But I want to go now. Will you come with me, Mum?’ she asked, blinking as more tears came.

  ‘Course I will. Any time you want. You know that.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ Lucy said, as her voice broke with emotion.

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Mum, I’ve got to go. There’s somebody at the door,’ Lucy said, wiping her face.

  ‘Oh right. Boyfriend is it?’

  ‘Yeah, something like that,’ she replied with an embarrassed laugh.

  ‘Do I get to meet this one then?’

  Lucy thought for a moment. ‘Yeah, I think so. Yeah. I’d like you to meet him. You’d really like him ... I’d better go, Mum. I love you, Mum.’

  ‘Love you too, darling.’

  Wiping her face again, Lucy put down the phone, got up off the sofa, and went to the door. It was Brooks.

  ‘What do you want?’ Lucy said with a smile.

  Brooks looked concerned. ‘You okay? Your face is all ...’

  ‘Blotchy? Smeary?’ Lucy laughed.

  ‘Yeah, one of those.’

  ‘You’d better come in. I need to tell you something,’ Lucy said, wondering if she really had the courage to tell him about what had happened that morning.

  ‘It’s all right. I don’t need to know, Luce,’ he said in a way that sounded as if he knew what she was going to say.

  ‘Know what? I haven’t told you anything yet, smart arse!’

  ‘Whatever you were doing when you were out this morning. I don’t need or want to know. Okay? We move on.’

  Lucy nodded – Bloody hell. That was easy.

  ‘Well, are you going to stand there all day or are you coming in?’

  ‘Thought you’d never ask.’

  He smiled, moved to one side, and grabbed the suitcase that he had hidden out of sight. ‘Any room at the inn?’

  ‘No. And whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested,’ Lucy laughed.

  RUTH SAT FORWARD ON the sofa and watched as the results of the general election came in. The BBC was predicting a Labour landslide. After the events of recent days, politics seemed strangely petty and irrelevant. People had lost their lives, and those responsible had finally been brought to justice. The fact that Michael Portillo, a rather disingenuous Conservative MP, had lost his Enfield South seat against all odds was mildly interesting.

  Shiori stood at the doors to the patio, smoking and drinking wine. They had been chatting and drinking all night. Ruth hadn’t relayed the events of the previous morning at Brookwood Cemetery. That was between her and Lucy, and no one else. Ruth and Shiori had avoided the subject of their kiss. Both of them were pretending that it had never happened. Ruth wasn’t sure if Shiori was embarrassed, or whether she actually did have feelings for Ruth but was too afraid to make them known. It might have been 1997, but attitudes towards being gay were still fairly archaic in many social circles. It was something that Ruth played out in her mind when she questioned her sexuality. If she came out as being gay, what would others think? What would her mum or sister say? Her work colleagues made enough lesbian jokes as it was, even though they knew she and Lucy were seemingly ‘straight’. Coming out as gay would open a new world of sniggers and judgement.

  Shiori turned and headed back to the sofa. ‘How are we doing?’

  By ‘we’, Ruth knew that she meant the Labour Party.

  Ruth gestured to the television which was now showing a map of the UK covered in red where the Labour Party had won seats.

  ‘I think they’ve done it. We’ve done it,’ Ruth said with a smile.

  A BBC journalist stood near a man pointing to various parts of a UK map. ‘Labour now has its best results since the 1930s, with record-breaking success all across here. In the Home Counties, in the South, in Surrey, and the South Coast. Up here, the Midlands and the North are almost entirely red. And, of course, in Scotland, all Labour except for the Liberal Democrats, with the Tory Party now having no seats in the whole of Scotland.’

  Shiori jumped on the sofa with an excited squeal. ‘My God. It really is a landslide? Champagne?’

  ‘Why not?’ Ruth said. The bottle of wine they had shared had relaxed her, and Shiori’s exuberance was beginning to rub off on her.

  A moment later, Shiori returned from the fridge and popped the cork before she had even sat down. ‘Here we go!’

  Ruth drained the remains of her wine, put the empty glass on the table in front of her, and slid it over to Shiori to be refilled. She needed to put the events of the last few days to one side and embrace the joy of the evening.

  ‘Bottoms up, as I think you say,’ Shiori said, clinking her glass.

  Ruth laughed. ‘That’s only in bad American films.’

  They looked at each other for a moment.

  Shiori frowned and pointed at Ruth’s face. ‘Honey, you’ve got some mascara or something on your eye.’

  Ruth touched her eye. ‘Have I?’

  ‘Here ... close your eyes for a second,’ Shiori said, moving closer.

  Ruth closed her eyes.

  Then she felt the warmth of Shiori’s lips against hers.

  Oh my God! She just kissed me!

  Ruth responded, as Shiori ran her hands through Ruth’s hair.

  They stopped for a moment.

  ‘You tricked me!’ Ruth said with a grin and mock indignation.

  ‘In my defence I was just checking if kissing you was as good as I remember.’

  ‘Well, what’s the verdict?’

  ‘It’s better.’

  They moved together and began kissing passionately.

  Ruth pulled away and smiled. ‘So ... are we going to bed?’

  Shiori raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t know. Are we?’

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  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Although this book is very much a work of fiction, it is located in Snowdonia, a spectacular area of North Wales. It is steeped in history and folklore that spans over two thousand years. It is worth mentioning that Llancastell is a fictional town on the
eastern edges of Snowdonia. I have made liberal use of artistic licence, names and places have been changed to enhance the pace and substance of the story.

  Acknowledgements

  I will always be indebted to the people who have made this novel possible.

  My mum, Pam, and my stronger half, Nicola, whose initial reaction, ideas and notes on my work I trust implicitly. And Dad, for his overwhelming enthusiasm.

  Thanks also go to my incredible Advanced Reading Team. Various officers in the North Wales Police Force for checking my work and explaining the complicated world of police procedure and investigation. My incredibly talented editor Rebecca Millar who has held my hand through the rewriting and editing process and is a joy to work with. Carole Kendal for her copy editing and meticulous proofreading. My designer Stuart Bache for the incredible cover design.

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