by L M Krier
The solicitor who had come was a local man, Ian Barnes, thoroughly professional though pedestrian. He was certainly not at all of the calibre of the one Danielson had no doubt expected to appear to represent him. Barnes had been visibly shaken to find his new client wearing the pip and crown of a chief superintendent, but quickly regained an impassive expression. He quietly and repeatedly advised his client to say nothing at this stage.
'Mr Danielson,' the Ice Queen began, deliberately dropping his rank now that he was nothing more than a common suspect. 'As you know, you have already been cautioned prior to interview about several offences under the Sexual Offences Act. Now we come to something rather more serious.
'I have reason to believe that the adult in these pictures, which were taken from a video retrieved from your cloud storage, is you. It is my belief that the location in which the film was shot is the Hotel Sorrento, here in Stockport. The child in the tape and photos has already been identified as Aiden Bradshaw.
'Aiden was murdered on a date after these particular films were taken, and we have an eye witness who places you at the hotel on the date he died. We will require a sample of your DNA in order to continue our investigations into this young boy's death.
'Because of your connection to this boy, it is my intention now to charge you with an additional offence of conspiracy to murder. You will be held here for up to ninety-six hours, and we will apply for extensions as necessary. You will then appear before magistrates to be further remanded. We will be opposing any application for bail on the grounds of the serious nature of the charges.
'You will now be handed over to the custody sergeant who will take charge of all your personal possessions, for which you will of course receive a receipt. Do you understand, sir?'
'You really do not know who you are going up against, Superintendent. You are going to regret your actions for a very long time.'
CHAPTER Forty-five
Ted's office phone was ringing before he got through the door the next morning. He picked it up quickly and a voice asked, 'Is that Ted Darling?'
'It is,' he said rather warily, as he did not immediately recognise the voice.
'It's Bob Clark, we met yesterday. I was on the receiving end of a pretty impressive karate kick.'
The voice was totally without rancour so Ted chuckled and said, 'Yes, sorry about that. How are you today?'
'I have a colourful bruise forming,' came the rueful response. 'If that was you pulling a kick, I hope I never meet you when you're in the mood to cause serious injury. Anyway, that's not why I called. This news hasn't broken yet, I thought you'd want to be one of the first to hear it.
'I imagine you were probably too busy yesterday to look at the file I gave you on our perverted MP? Well, I have an update for you. I'm just back from his place and he's dead. Found hanging early this morning by the cleaner, who didn't expect him to be there. He should have been at his London flat and sitting in the House today.'
Ted let out a low whistle. 'Shit,' he said. 'I suppose it's definitely a suicide? No chance someone strung him up?'
'Doubt it, you know as well as I do how rare murder by hanging is,' Clark replied. 'My guess is that he heard you had his friend, our chief, in custody and didn't want to take the risk of what he might start talking about to cut himself a deal.'
At that moment there was a brief knock on Ted's door and the Ice Queen swept in, not looking best pleased. Ted immediately sprang to his feet and said into the phone, 'I have to go now, Bob, thanks for putting me in the picture. I hope we'll meet again one day soon, I feel I owe you a drink or two.'
'You've heard, then?' the Ice Queen asked, sitting down in response to Ted's gesture.
Ted nodded. 'That was Bob Clark on the phone, just filling me in. Would you like a cup of green tea, ma'am?'
'Why not?' she said, her tone slightly weary. 'We are clearly going to need something to get us through the day. Thank you.'
She had with her the file Bob Clark had handed her the day before, which she now put on Ted's desk.
'Is it such a bad thing, though?' Ted asked, putting a mug of tea in front of her. 'It might make Danielson's tongue a bit looser, when he knows another of his friends in high places is no longer there for him. I take it we are going to tell him what's happened?'
'I think we are morally obliged to, if nothing else. It does narrow his options considerably if he was thinking of offering us some names in exchange for a deal, once he realises no one is going to come to his rescue, and yet another of the names is no longer around.'
'Would he offer up the Knave of Clubs?' Ted asked. 'I've already got a fairly strong ID on him from the receptionist at the hotel, and her witness statement about him seeming to know Danielson.'
She sipped her tea and said, 'I think we have to take a reality check at this stage. Despite all our best efforts and desire to do so, we may possibly need to accept that our chances of taking down even a very minor member of the extended royal family are slight. As you have said yourself, some of the events in this enquiry have all the hallmarks of our friends from the Security Services.'
'Surely we have to try, at least? Shouldn't someone try, for all the kids like Aiden out there?'
'I agree, in principle, but let's not forget the collateral damage. Two key witnesses shot, one about to turn Queen's evidence stabbed to death in prison. And I include your poor little cat in the tally. In view of all that's happened, I'm inclined to agree with you that its killing was no coincidence. So who might be next? You? A member of your team?'
She could see the frustration on Ted's face and shared it. 'Why not spend some time today going through this file on the MP, see if there are any links in there you could exploit. But please take extreme care. We are clearly in dangerous waters. What I might be able to do is to get the MP's DNA cross-checked against Aiden Bradshaw's, see if there was any contact there, just so that we know, at least.'
She finished her tea and rose to go. 'Thank you for the tea. I'd just like a few words with your team. They've done excellent work, it's only right that I tell them so.'
Ted followed her into the outer office. His team members were all at their desks working and waiting on him for the morning briefing. Seeing the Ice Queen in their territory, they all shot to their feet except for Steve. His nose was, as usual, buried in his computer so he was totally unaware of what was going on around him. Eventually, Maurice, who sat nearest to him, hissed a warning. Steve looked up, saw the Big Boss looking at him and leapt up so quickly his chair flew back and almost tipped over.
'I just wanted to say that you have all done extremely good work in difficult circumstances. I also wanted to tell you, before the news breaks officially, that the man we have in custody is Chief Superintendent Simon Danielson. His identity must remain strictly confidential until his first appearance before magistrates, the date and time of which has not yet been decided.
'Very few people know who he is, so were it to become known by the press at this stage, each and every one of you would come under suspicion of having leaked the information. I would take an extremely dim view of that. Thank you again.'
She turned back to Ted. 'Shall we say ten o'clock to resume our interview of the chief? I will tell Inspector Turner to arrange for his solicitor to get here by then.'
Ted had the big file on the MP in his hand. He set it down in front of Maurice. 'Maurice, I want you and Steve to work on this all day. Go through every lead Inspector Clark had found. In particular, I want you to try and trace any time when either Danielson or the MP were at any event at the same time as the Knave of Clubs. I assume Steve will be able to find that out with his usual computer wizardry. I just have to make a phone call, then I can probably give you some dates when there were similar cases to Aiden's in and around London, the Knave's regular hunting ground, I presume.'
Ted went back to his office to make the call on his mobile. It was answered on the first ring.
'Morning, Ted. I hear you have a big fish on the end of your line.
'
'Morning, Harry. We have him, and we are hopefully about to net him,' Ted told his new contact. 'But it's still not a big enough fish for my taste, so I wondered if you could help me?'
'Try me.'
'You mentioned deaths in connection with the Knave of Clubs. Are there any dates or details you could let me have in that respect? I want to cross check his movements with some of our suspects.'
'Remember that anything I could give you is not official, and you certainly didn't get it from me,' Harry replied. 'But I'll try and get something to you today, before the weekend. Shall I email it to your young Steve?'
Ted agreed, thanked him and rang off. His desk phone rang almost immediately. This time it was a familiar voice, one he detested, the oily, sycophantic tones of a local newspaper reporter. Ted had no time for the press. He found this one particularly hard to stomach because of his disconcerting habit of playing 'pocket billiards' the whole time, which was distracting face to face.
'DI Darling, what can you tell me about the police officer you have in custody?' came the wheedling voice.
'Nothing at all, Alastair, you're wasting your time,' Ted replied brusquely. 'You'll find out everything there is to know if and when there's a remand hearing in court.'
'Can you at least tell me when that's likely to be?'
'No,' Ted snapped shortly and rang off, then headed downstairs to find the Ice Queen so they could have another crack at Danielson.
The chief superintendent had clearly not spent a comfortable night in police custody. His once immaculate uniform shirt was crumpled, his trousers creased. He looked haggard and drawn but most of all his expression, as Ted and the Ice Queen sat down opposite him and his solicitor in the interview room, was one of raw fury.
'You have made a serious error of judgement, Superintendent,' he began, his eyes flashing. 'I have friends in high places. They are not going to be at all pleased to hear of your actions against me.'
'I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, sir,' she replied levelly, 'but I am afraid you have one friend fewer than before. I have to tell you that your MP, also a personal friend, I believe, Richard Morgan, was found dead at his home early this morning. The enquiry is not yet complete but it would appear that he took his own life. Perhaps you may be able to help with that enquiry? Are you aware of anything which may currently have been troubling Mr Morgan?'
Ted saw a number of emotions flash across Danielson's face. The most striking one was probably fear when he realised the safety net he thought was in place was rapidly unravelling.
The Ice Queen's questions were relentless and probing but, partly on his solicitor's advice and also on his own initiative, Danielson was saying nothing.
Eventually his solicitor spoke up. 'Look, Superintendent, you have already charged my client with a number of offences, now you really must put him before magistrates for remand. Time is getting short, with the weekend nearly upon us. I shall, of course, be applying in the strongest possible terms for bail for my client.'
'Which I will be resisting in equally strong terms,' she countered smoothly. 'And you are right, we need to take decisive action now. I will arrange for a special remand hearing later this afternoon after which I very much hope, Mr Danielson, you will enjoy a comfortable weekend in prison.'
'This is outrageous!' Danielson said, his voice rising. 'You cannot remand me in custody, you know perfectly well what happens to police officers in prison.'
He half rose from his seat. Ted was on his feet in an instant, calm and in control, but the message was clear. Although Danielson towered above him, the man already knew there was nothing he could do physically against Ted. So far his threats and bullying had proved ineffectual against either of them.
'Please sit down, sir, until the superintendent has finished speaking to you,' Ted said politely.
The remand hearing was a formality. Bail was refused and Danielson was led away to a prison van, to enjoy his first taste of what it was like to be behind bars.
Ted was keen to share the news of some success with his team before they broke for the weekend. It would be a good morale booster in a difficult case.
'Have a good weekend, all of you. Who's on duty this weekend?'
'Me and Virgil, boss,' Mike Hallam told him.
'You again, Virgil? Weren't you on last weekend?'
'I volunteered, boss. I'm in dead lumber with the missus yet again and she was threatening to take me shopping,' Virgil grinned.
'Right, well, enjoy yourselves, whatever you're up to, see you all on Monday. And Steve, try to take a break from the computer, for once!'
CHAPTER Forty-six
Ted had enjoyed a great weekend. He and Trev had been hill walking in the Peak District and enjoyed a meal out, which always put him in good spirits. He felt more relaxed and in control than he had for some time. He hoped the rest of his team were also feeling recharged.
Unusually, there was no sign of Steve when they were just starting the morning catch-up.
'Anyone heard from him, or know where he is?' Ted asked, but no one had any idea where he might be. 'Does he have a girlfriend, someone he's seeing, who may have distracted him?'
'No girlfriend, boss, Steve's in love with his computer,' Virgil said quickly, amidst some laughter.
Mike Hallam tried phoning his mobile number but the call went straight to voice-mail. He left a brief message, asking Steve to call in.
'It's not like him,' Ted said, a note of concern in his voice. 'If we haven't heard anything by late morning, I think a couple of you ought to go round, just to check on him. Maurice, can you sort that and keep me posted? I don't like that we've not heard anything, not even a phone call.'
There was still no word by lunch time, so Maurice asked Rob to go with him to check out Steve's address. Rob immediately volunteered to drive and take his own car. Since his divorce, Maurice fought a constant battle between trying to stop smoking and binge eating sticky buns to deal with the nicotine cravings. His car famously smelled like an old ash tray and was full of crumbs and food wrappers.
Steve rented a poky basement flat in a house on the edge of town, which had known better days. Maurice and Rob picked their way down the exterior stone steps, carefully edging round empty chip papers and takeaway wrappings. The curtains were closed and there was no sign of life.
Maurice knocked loudly, both on the door and on the window but no one opened up. There was a letter box in the door which he tried shouting through.
'Doesn't look as if he's here,' Rob said, turning to go back up the steps.
'Hang on, listen a minute,' Maurice told him, his ear to the open letter flap. 'There's someone in there, I can hear a noise.' He put his mouth back to the flap and called, 'Steve? Steve, lad, are you in there? It's Maurice.' He listened again then turned to Rob. 'It sounds like someone groaning.'
He stepped back from the door and lifted a foot.
'What are you doing?' Rob asked. 'You can't just kick the door in.'
'Got a better idea?' Maurice asked as his foot crashed into the flimsy door, which yielded immediately, crashing back against the inside wall.
They stepped straight into a small kitchen, a sink and units against the left wall, a small cooker and a couple of cupboards in front of them, with an open doorway leading to a room behind. The place looked like a bomb had hit it, but neither Maurice nor Rob knew Steve well enough to tell if that was the way he normally lived.
Maurice led the way through the doorway into a bed sitting room. There was a cheap desk against the right-hand wall, with what had clearly been an expensive, top of the range computer sitting on it, now smashed almost beyond recognition. Clothing and possessions were strewn all over the floor.
In a narrow bed, pushed up against the left-hand wall, a huddled form lay under a heap of bedclothes, groaning quietly. Maurice approached the bed cautiously and gently pulled back the covers at the head end.
Steve's face, what they could see of it as he lay huddled on his side
facing the wall, was swollen, battered and bloody. They could both now clearly hear that he was moaning to himself and crying.
Gently, Maurice perched on the bed beside him. 'Steve, lad, whatever happened to you?' Then he looked at Rob and said, 'Phone an ambulance, then get on the blower to the boss and tell him to send SOCO.'
At his words, Steve tried to stir and caught hold of Maurice's sleeve with his left hand. Maurice could see that the right hand was bloodied, black and blue. Steve tried to keep his voice quiet so only Maurice would hear him.
'No ambulance, please, I don't want anyone seeing me like this. I've wet myself,' he said pleadingly.
'Don't worry about that, bonny lad,' Maurice said soothingly. 'That's just normal, nothing they haven't seen before.'
'Please,' Steve said again, his face anguished. His whole body was now trembling violently. Maurice very gently put an arm round him and soothed him, as he would have done with his own children.
'It's all right, Steve, we're here now, everything's going to be all right. We'll take care of everything, you've nothing to be worried about. I'll help you get cleaned up.'
'You can't move him,' Rob said warningly. 'There may be internal injuries.'
'I did the first aid course, remember,' Maurice said, still holding on to Steve. 'I only went as a bit of a skive but I did pass, don't worry. I'll help Steve get dressed then I'll take him to casualty, but I'll need your car. You stay here and see to SOCO. Make sure the boss knows there's no need for him to come,' Maurice made his tone heavy with meaning. He knew Steve wouldn't want his boss to see him in such a state.
'We'll get you cleaned up and into fresh jim-jams, Steve, then I'll take you to hospital. I think they'll probably want to keep you in at least overnight.'
I don't have any pyjamas,' Steve wailed.
'Eh, Steve, lad, what are we going to do with you? Don't worry, everything will be fine. I'll help you. We'll find you something clean to wear. We'll get it all sorted.' Again, Maurice turned to speak to Rob. 'You'll probably get better mobile reception if you go back up the steps,' he said meaningfully.
