The Dead db-3

by Howard Linskey

  ‘All of the evidence? You mean the DNA sample?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Aimes paced up and down some more, making it appear he was thinking, but really he was building up the suspense levels. Even the jury seemed to sense he was going to hit Professor Harris right between the eyes at any minute.

  ‘But he wasn’t guilty, was he, Professor?’

  ‘No, it would appear not.’

  ‘Despite the DNA sample and your sworn evidence that he was? Professor, please explain to me why the case against Andrew Cox was eventually thrown out.’

  ‘It turned out that the DNA sample had been compromised.’

  ‘The DNA sample had been compromised? What does that actually mean?’

  ‘It appeared that the tray used to analyse the DNA sample had been used before.’

  ‘Can that really be possible? A used tray was not disposed of, nor was it clearly marked as having been used, so when the DNA swab from the unfortunate rape victim was placed in the tray it was allowed to mingle with the residue from an earlier sample, in this case the DNA taken from Andrew Cox, following his arrest on suspicion of drink driving, which I need hardly add is an obvious parallel with the case here today. It’s all tragically similar; the same circumstances leading to the surrender of a DNA sample, the same incompetent company analysing that sample, and the exact same expert witness standing before us, confidently stating that it would be tantamount to an impossibility for the accused to be innocent. But Andrew Cox was innocent, wasn’t he, Professor, and so is Henry Baxter.’

  The professor did not reply, so Aimes continued, ‘Professor, how many cases have been thrown out because of poor handling by DNF?’

  ‘I really have no…’

  ‘Twelve,’ interrupted Aimes, ‘it’s twelve; a dozen citizens of the United Kingdom who could have found themselves undergoing the terrible ordeal of a lengthy sentence behind bars because the practices at DNF are clinically unsafe.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps, but they were old cases, historic ones.’

  ‘Twelve errors,’ Aimes reminded him gravely, ‘twelve miscarriages of justice due to shoddy clinical practice. How can any of us honestly state, hand on heart, that Henry Baxter would not make it thirteen?’

  ‘But processes have been tightened up since then. The possibility of any kind of miscarriage of justice has been virtually eliminated now that there are a series of proper checks and balances in place at DNF.’

  ‘So you are certain of Henry Baxter’s guilt?’

  ‘Yes, yes. I would say it is virtually assured.’

  Aimes smiled then and there was nothing fake or contrived about his pleasure. ‘You said that before, Professor.’

  ‘I said what before?’

  ‘That the accused’s guilt is virtually assured.’

  ‘What? No… I don’t think… I’m sure…’

  ‘Yes, yes you did, believe me.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Two years ago when you were involved in the prosecution case against Andrew Cox. I’ve read the transcripts you see, every word of your testimony, and the phrase stuck in my mind. You said, “I would say the guilt of this man is virtually assured,”’ Aimes quoted, ‘but it wasn’t, was it Professor?’

  35

  Aimes had the good sense to keep Henry Baxter off the witness stand for all but a short denial of wrongdoing and a deep desire to clear his name. He had no idea why the police had arrested him, he said, but it was surely a mistake that would all soon be cleared up. Of course the prosecution tried to tear him apart, but a combination of Baxter’s own self-confidence coupled with a comprehensive briefing from Aimes on how to handle every question meant they rarely drew blood.

  Julian Aimes summed it all up neatly at the end of the trial. The two girls were untrustworthy, the police incompetent and desperate for a conviction, and the prosecution’s expert witness had been wrong before.

  ‘The DNA evidence in this case is entirely unreliable,’ said Aimes, ‘it could have been caused by cross-contamination in the police station or a carelessly discarded tray, previously used to analyse the DNA of an entirely different person, as it was in a dozen other cases, all of which were potentially serious miscarriages of justice involving DeoxyNuc Forensics. If your faith in that company remains entirely undimmed then you might want to consider a guilty verdict in this case. If, like me, you feel slightly nervous at the prospect of entrusting a man’s life to a company that cannot even be bothered to rinse their trays out, then you should find my client innocent of any and all wrongdoing.’

  The jury deliberated for less than a day before returning their verdict.

  Not guilty.

  Leanne’s father left the courtroom immediately.

  Henry Baxter couldn’t help himself. As soon as he was released from custody he did exactly what I told him not to do. He strode right out of the front door and stood on the court steps, so he could address the Press — and how they loved it. ‘I stand here before you as a vindicated man but I have been through a terrible ordeal, made worse by the refusal of both the police and Crown Prosecution Service to consider any possibility of my innocence. However, I never lost faith in the British justice system, which is the finest in the world. I have been tried before a jury of my peers and found wholly innocent of the heinous charges levelled at me. I now leave the court without a stain on my character and wish to be left alone. I intend to take a long holiday and simply request you respect my right to privacy. As to the culpability of the senior police officers and CPS officials, who brought this travesty of a case to court at considerable cost to the taxpayer, I leave that for others to consider. Thank you.’

  Then he flounced away, exiting stage left, while the photographers snapped away at him as if he was a movie star. Baxter walked with his chin up and his head held high. Anybody with a shred of decency would have avoided making that speech, but child killers don’t have decency. Men like Baxter think laws don’t apply to them and they can do whatever they like. Thanks to our barrister it seemed that he was right.

  Palmer tailed Baxter halfway across the city to make sure nobody else was watching him. He was clean, as you would expect. The police were already embarrassed enough at his acquittal. They weren’t going to compound that by following the guy who’d just made them look so stupid in front of the media. Baxter was on his own when he walked into a hotel on the Quayside and checked in. He went to his room and surveyed it to see if it was to his satisfaction, but he didn’t hang about. Instead he left the room and walked down the rear staircase. We’d chosen the hotel carefully, so he could slip quietly out the back unnoticed by the girls manning the reception desk. Palmer was waiting with a car. Baxter climbed in and Palmer sped off.

  The lock-up we’d chosen was well outside the city. We used the warehouse to store all sorts of stuff we needed to keep from prying eyes but it was as good a place as any to keep Baxter out of sight while he freed up my money.

  Baxter seemed calm when he walked into the room with Palmer. He obviously thought I’d keep my end of the bargain and he was right. I might be a cold, hard, over-logical fucker but I’m not going to break the terms of an agreement I’ve sworn on my only child’s life. The important thing now was to make sure I got our five million back.

  Baxter looked at me as if we were old friends who’d had a row and now he wanted to patch things up with me. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘I mean it. That lawyer you hired…’

  ‘Shut up Baxter,’ I told him, ‘I don’t want to hear it. All I care about is the money. You keep your end of the bargain and I’ll keep mine.’

  ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ he asked.

  I reached into my pocket and handed him the flight ticket I’d bought him, and his boarding pass. He scrutinised them for a moment, to check they were genuine, then went to put them in his pocket, but I snatched them from him. ‘Not yet Baxter. Not till I get my money back.’ I put the tickets on a table set against the wall.

  Palmer steered Baxter towar
ds a chair in the centre of the room then he handcuffed both of Baxter’s wrists to the arms of the chair.

  ‘Oh come on,’ protested Baxter, ‘is this strictly necessary?’

  ‘Yes,’ I told him, ‘it is. I don’t want you trying to do a runner.’

  Kinane was scowling at Baxter from a corner, but I had given him strict instructions not to intervene. There are a whole bunch of unwritten rules in the criminal world but the biggest by far is that you do not rape or murder children. I knew Kinane wanted very badly to kill Baxter and take a long time doing it.

  ‘Shall we get on with it then?’ asked Baxter waspishly. ‘I have a plane to catch in the morning.’

  Robbie wrote down every word, as Baxter outlined how we could access the funds he had buried in that Cayman Islands bank. When Robbie was finished recording everything Baxter told him, he left the room so he could get word to Vince, our man out in the Caymans to handle the transaction. Then we waited. And waited. Baxter should have had the sense to shut up, but he couldn’t help himself.

  ‘First thing I’m going to do when I get out of here is take a long, hot bath.’

  Kinane looked like a dog being held back by an invisible leash; a leash that I was holding.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere until I’m convinced we can access that money,’ I reminded him.

  ‘That’s just a formality,’ he reminded me. ‘I have no intention of cheating you out of your millions,’ and he smiled slightly, ‘don’t think I’d sleep too well if that were to happen. Would I, Joe?’

  This was too much for Kinane and he climbed to his feet and stepped towards Baxter. He bent low so he could look right into Baxter’s face.

  ‘Let me do him anyway,’ he implored me, without taking his eyes away from Baxter’s, ‘even if he gives up the money. We’ll give him the same chance he gave that little girl. That would be fair, don’t you think?’

  Beads of sweat were forming on Baxter’s face and I took my time before replying. I was enjoying watching him shit himself like this. In the end though, I was forced to say, ‘No Joe. I gave him my word on Emma’s life, you know that.’

  ‘That was your word,’ Kinane protested, ‘not mine.’

  ‘And I’m the boss,’ I reminded him, ‘I swore that no one who worked for me would harm him.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ shouted Kinane and he slammed his fist down hard on the table in front of Baxter. Then he added, ‘Maybe not today, but one day. One day, Baxter. It will be you, me and a dark alley somewhere and then you’ll be sorry for everything.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say another word if I were you Baxter,’ I warned him and he finally saw sense, staying silent for more than an hour while we waited.

  Eventually, and not before time, we got the call from Robbie confirming that we could access the money and would be able to transfer it whenever we wished. I tried not to show how relieved I was, but we were so close to running out of operating cash I doubt we’d have gone another month without a serious intervention from someone.

  ‘It’s done,’ I told Baxter.

  ‘Then you can let me go,’ he told me acerbically, ‘I fulfilled my side of the bargain, now you can keep yours.’ Then he added, ‘Oh, and don’t forget the money.’

  ‘It’s in the car,’ I told him. ‘Keep an eye on him you two,’ I told Kinane and Palmer, ‘but make sure he doesn’t trip and hurt himself while I’m away.’ Palmer accepted this but Kinane shot me an evil look.

  I walked out of the room and back to the car. I took out the holdall that contained the generous sum of money Baxter had extorted from me, in return for the repatriation of my five million, then I nodded at the guys standing outside the warehouse so they knew we were done. One of them followed me to the warehouse door and stepped inside with me. He walked quietly behind me all the way to the inner office, but waited outside. I stepped in and placed the holdall on the table next to his airline tickets and Baxter’s piggy little eyes lit up.

  ‘My end of the bargain,’ I told him, ‘it’s all in there. I promised you that and I promised that neither I nor anyone who worked for me would ever lay a hand on you, as long as you delivered our money.’

  Baxter nodded, ‘I’m grateful, I really am,’ he said, then he glanced at the handcuffs, ‘now if you could just let me go?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I told him. ‘The deal was I have to let you go on the same day,’ I looked at my watch, ‘there’s still five hours to go before I have to uncuff you.’

  ‘Oh come on, you are joking aren’t you?’ asked Baxter. ‘I can’t believe you are going to be so petty. Are you really going to leave me here for five hours until you take these cuffs off me? Seriously?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘seriously, but don’t worry, one of the boys will come back and uncuff you before the day is over.’

  ‘Christ,’ he said in extreme irritation, then he seemed to compose himself, ‘very well, play your little games if you must. Just make sure you take these two out of my sight and make sure someone you trust comes back to let me go. Remember your oath.’

  ‘I remember it alright,’ I said, ‘every word. Come on boys,’ and I walked away from Baxter. Palmer and Kinane followed reluctantly.

  When we reached the door, I looked back at Baxter who seemed little more than irritated by this inconvenience. ‘There’s one last thing Baxter,’ I told him.

  ‘What?’ he asked sourly.

  ‘There’s someone outside I’d like you to meet.’

  He looked confused then, so I opened the door and gestured for the man who had been waiting outside to come in. I relished the moment when Baxter realised who he was and his eyes went wide with terror.

  ‘This is Matt Bell,’ I told Baxter, ‘the father of the little girl you raped and murdered, but then I think you know that. He was in the courtroom.’

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ Baxter croaked and he instinctively tugged at the handcuffs on both wrists but they held firm.

  ‘He’d like a word with you,’ I said, ‘in private.’

  Matt Bell took a step further into the room and stared fixedly at Baxter. Baxter’s gaze moved lower until he noticed what Bell was carrying; a large, heavy, metal tool box. Bell set the box down on the table and started to remove items from it one at a time; a hacksaw, a claw hammer, a cordless drill, some nails, a small sledge hammer. Baxter’s eyes widened in terror as Bell carefully placed each item on the table next to him. Finally he took out a roll of gaffer tape.

  ‘You swore to me!’ Baxter pleaded, ‘You swore an oath on the life of your child! You can’t let him touch me!’

  ‘I swore I wouldn’t harm or kill you Baxter,’ I reminded him, ‘I swore none of my men or anyone hired by me would harm or kill you. Mr Bell doesn’t work for me and I haven’t hired him to do anything. I merely agreed to his request to give him a little alone-time with you, one on one, just the two of you.’ All the while I was speaking Matt Bell was removing items from the tool box and setting them down. Baxter was struggling hard against the cuffs, but he couldn’t free himself. ‘I think a man deserves that, don’t you? He deserves the chance to look his daughter’s killer in the eye and make him suffer. That’s what I call justice.’

  Bell turned to me and I told him, ‘You have five hours. Whatever is left after that my boys will dispose of but don’t take a minute more.’

  ‘Nooo!’ Baxter was shouting. ‘Pleeease no!’

  Bell ignored him. ‘I won’t, and thank you.’

  ‘Nobody will ever find him,’ I told Leanne’s father, ‘they won’t even look, but we’ll make sure there’s nothing left to find.’ I meant that we would take Baxter’s body off to the pig farm. Baxter knew that too and his eyes widened even further. Sweat was plastered all over his forehead.

  ‘Don’t do this!’ squealed Baxter. I could tell by the smell in that warm room that he’d already soiled himself, but Bell didn’t care. He was past caring about anything now except the time he was about to spend alone with the man who’d killed his daughter.<
br />
  I walked over to the table and picked up the airline ticket. ‘You won’t be needing this,’ I told Baxter, then I turned to Matt Bell.

  ‘When it’s over, take Baxter’s money and go abroad somewhere. Stay away for a while.’ He nodded like he understood but I knew he just wanted me to leave. I could tell he was eager to get started.

  Baxter was swearing and pleading, almost frothing at the mouth now as he rocked from side to side, desperately trying to break free. ‘I think it’s time to shut you up, Baxter,’ I said and Bell reached for the gaffer tape. I watched as Baxter struggled but he couldn’t prevent it from being wrapped tightly round his mouth to stifle his screams. Not that anyone would have heard him out here in any case.

  Kinane, Palmer and I watched as Bell slowly walked back to the table and selected the claw hammer. I got the impression he had given this day a great deal of thought. Baxter’s terrified eyes widened even further as Bell stepped towards him once more, raised the claw hammer and brought it down fast and hard, striking a sickening blow to Henry Baxter’s kneecap. His loud but muffled screams were almost too much, even for me.

  ‘You deserve this, Baxter,’ I told him, ‘remember that, all the while it’s happening to you and, by the way, the tool box was my idea, but castrating you before you die was his. Goodbye, Baxter.’

  I turned away and walked through the door with Kinane and Palmer. We heard the muffled screams of the child killer all the way back across the warehouse floor. They grew more and more desperate and were only finally stifled when the huge outer door was pulled shut behind us.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were going to let that little girl’s old man at Baxter?’ asked Kinane when we were back in the car on the road to the city.

  ‘Because I needed Baxter to see you angry and resentful,’ I told him, ‘otherwise he would have been deeply suspicious and would never have released the five million. This way everyone wins.’

  ‘Except Baxter,’ added Palmer, ‘and that’s the way it should be.’

  Amrein had arranged for someone who looked remarkably like Henry Baxter to meet us in Newcastle and take the airline ticket and Baxter’s passport, which we had quietly lifted from his apartment. The next day he flew from Newcastle to Luton, then took a train into London and the Underground to Heathrow. From there he caught a flight to Bangkok. With Baxter’s passport, he sailed through Customs. When he touched down in the Thai capital he checked into a hotel for a few nights and ate in several restaurants, leaving a paper trail for anyone curious enough about him to enquire, then he checked out one morning and vanished. Henry Baxter disappeared forever. No one ever saw him again and nobody cared. He was just another dubious westerner lost in the fleshpots of Bangkok.