by Bill Ward
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Powell was relieved when he walked out of court. The prosecution had not contested the request for bail and he knew that was largely down to Brian’s influence. It had helped that he had a clean record and owned a bar in Brighton, which made the risk of him fleeing, less likely.
Powell had noticed Bates sitting in court and he looked like he’d chewed a very bitter lemon when the Magistrate granted bail. In truth, the agreement regarding bail had been made before they ever came to court. With Brian’s help, he had called in the favour owed by the Director General of MI5. A word in the right ear had ensured Powell was free at least until his case came to court in a few weeks.
Powell had learned that Hattie was not charged with any crime. It was Powell’s car and she had simply been a passenger, professing to be completely unaware of the weapon or drugs. Exactly what he thought she would say and it was probably the truth, although he couldn’t be certain she wasn’t involved in his arrest. He decided that the first thing he needed to do, was to visit Hattie’s parents.
A couple of hours after leaving the court he was on a train to London. His car was still being held by the police so he was going to have to hire a replacement but that could wait.
“I’ve been trying to get hold of you,” Clara said impatiently, as the maid showed him into the lounge.
Powell ordered coffee and sat in an armchair. “I’ve only just seen the missed calls,” he explained. “I didn’t have my phone with me the last few days.”
“Why ever not?”
“It’s a long story and I’ll tell you it in a minute. Why were you so keen to speak with me?”
“I’ve spoken with Harriet and to be honest, I now regret ever having asked you to help.”
“Why is that?”
“I should have trusted Harriet not to do anything stupid. She was really upset I hired you.”
“You told her about me?”
“Well she knew someone had been asking questions and I told her, I was responsible for hiring you, not her father.”
How did Hattie know someone was asking questions? He’d been keeping a very low profile and didn’t believe he’d been guilty of asking too many questions. The only other person asking questions was Brian and he would have been very discrete. Something didn’t add up.
“Did you by any chance mention my name?” Powell asked.
“I did. I hope you don’t mind?”
Powell chose his words carefully. “It might have been better if you hadn’t given Hattie my name.”
“What do you mean?”
Powell explained the events of the last twenty four hours, stopping only briefly when the maid brought in the coffee.
Clara was shocked by Powell’s revelations. “But surely you don’t think your arrest is anything to do with Harriet?”
“What would you think in my place? She never mentioned to me that she knew I was working for you. Don’t you think that’s strange?”
“It’s an absurd notion. Where would Harriet get those type of drugs or a gun?”
Powell decided it was time for some straight talking. “All types of drugs are freely available at the house. I’ve even seen Hattie sell some to the barmaid at the local pub.”
“But why would she sell drugs? She doesn’t need the money.”
“She may have just been doing someone a favour. I don’t know.”
“Have you seen Harriet taking drugs?” Clara asked, obviously concerned. “She promised me she wasn’t.”
“She might be taking a little, virtually everyone at the house does, but if you are asking me whether she’s addicted to something like cocaine, then I think I can answer that I saw no sign of any addiction or even heavy use.”
“Thank God!”
“As for the gun, perhaps it came from Scott. He has a former soldier working for him and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had access to guns. I don’t know for certain but I am fairly confident that when you told Hattie about me, she would have told Scott.”
“That must be it. Scott is responsible not Harriet.”
Powell wasn’t impressed Clara didn’t seem to care about the trouble she had caused him, only that the blame could be laid at Scott’s feet not Hattie’s. If Clara hadn’t mentioned his name to Hattie, he was fairly confident he wouldn’t now be in such a mess with the law. There was no point in having a go at Clara and pointing out client confidentiality was a two way street. It was water under the bridge.
“Anyway,” Powell continued. “I came here to update you on recent events and tell you I can’t work for you anymore. I have to try and clear my name and I think there may be a conflict of interest.”
“Could it be someone else, nothing to do with the commune, who planted the drugs and gun?” Clara asked.
“It could be but frankly, I think it’s very unlikely. The only chance anyone had to plant the drugs or gun was while my car was parked at Tintagel.”
“I’m sorry,” Clara apologised. “This is all my fault. I never should have involved you in my family problems.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Powell stressed. “You didn’t plant anything in my car. And I didn’t have to accept the job in the first place so don’t go blaming yourself.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Find out who is responsible for this mess.”
“How can I help?”
“I haven’t told the police the real reason I joined the commune. I didn’t think you would want Hattie to know you had hired me to snoop on her but as she now knows you employed me, if this ends up in court, I will almost certainly have to call you as a witness, to explain my presence at the commune.”
“Of course, I quite understand.”
“I shall need you to confirm why you hired me, if that’s all right?” Powell was labouring the point but didn’t want any misunderstanding.
“I’m not embarrassed to stand in court and confirm why I hired you,” Clara stated firmly. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Thanks. If you speak with Hattie and learn anything that might help my case, will you please give me a call?” Powell didn’t expect Clara to say or do anything that would incriminate her daughter but she seemed genuinely concerned for his situation and he believed she would help if she could.
“I promise I will arrange to meet Harriet as soon as possible. I need a face to face conversation about what’s taken place. Once I get to the truth, I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks. I don’t actually think it’s likely Hattie has planted the drugs or weapon. I think it’s far more likely she has naively told Scott about me and he has done the rest.”
“I hope so. Otherwise, I really have made a mess of raising my daughter.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Powell drove to Tintagel in his new Audi, planning to investigate the contents of Scott’s study. He might as well add breaking and entry to his other list of crimes. He was looking for the best spot to park on the side of the road, where he could use the step ladder on the back seat to get over the wall, when he spotted Scott in his Land Rover, coming the other way. Scott was in the passenger seat and Tommy was driving.
Although Scott’s absence from the house might afford a good opportunity to break into his study, Powell was curious where Scott was headed in the early hours of the morning. Powell would wager a significant sum of money there was some nefarious purpose to Scott’s outing. The study would have to wait for another night.
Powell drove a little further, then did a U-turn and started to follow Scott, remaining far enough behind on the deserted road so as not to arouse suspicion. They headed towards Haywards Heath, where the traffic increased, but then went south and Powell wondered if he was going to end up following them all the way to Brighton. When they avoided joining the A23 and instead took the back roads to Ditchling, he was intrigued.
He followed the Land Rover up the steep hill to Ditchling Beacon. He was very familiar with the road and didn’t get too close to the car in f
ront. The scenic view from the Beacon attracted large numbers of visitors in the Summer but at the moment, the unlit and sharply twisting road was commanding his full attention.
Powell could no longer see Scott up ahead because of the bends in the road but wasn’t worried. He knew that at the top, the road straightened out and he would quickly be able to get back on Scott’s trail.
As he hit the summit, Powell could see no lights ahead and immediately glanced to his right. He spotted Scott’s car and one other in the small car park. He had to keep driving past so as not to attract attention but went only a short way, before pulling up on the grass verge. He switched off the lights and quickly ran back towards the car park.
As Powell came close to the car park, he could hear voices, muffled by the wind. He crouched low and moved closer, using the cover of the hedgerow, which ran along the front of the road, to stay hidden.
Fortunately, the two cars had been parked close by the hedge, rather than on the other side of the car park. He was able to approach unseen and observe what was happening through holes in the hedge.
He was in time to see Tommy place a suitcase in the boot of the Land Rover. It was the size you are allowed to take on a plane so not huge but large enough to contain a valuable load of drugs or weapons. He wondered how many such bags had already been transferred from one car to the other?
“That’s all of it,” a man Powell didn’t recognise said, walking to the back of his car and shutting the boot. Powell could make out the shape of another man sitting behind the wheel of the car.
Scott carried a briefcase to the man, who then placed it on the backseat of his car. Powell guessed it was payment for whatever was in the suitcase. If it was, then this was obviously not their first transaction as the man wasn’t even bothering to check the contents of the briefcase.
“We’ll follow you just to make sure you get back okay,” the man said.
“Thanks,” Scott replied. “We will need more in a month.”
“I’m looking at new sources,” the man answered. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Do we need to worry about Powell?” Scott asked.
“I’m not sure why he was given bail but it probably means he has friends in high places. But I don’t think we need to worry. He’s not going to be running around free for very much longer.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Powell didn’t like what he heard. The case wouldn’t come to court for months but the man made it sound like he was going to be in jail in the very near future. Or it could be interpreted the man had a more permanent solution in mind to ensure Powell’s removal.
Was there a price on Powell’s head? This man was obviously part of the drugs trade and such people were notorious for violence. At the very least, this man knew something Powell didn’t and that was worrying. Powell realised he was going to have to be extra careful. He could deal with an enemy in hand to hand combat but he couldn’t stop a bullet.
Powell headed back to his car and waited for the two cars to exit the car park and start to descend the hill before turning his car around and once again following. He was at the bottom of the hill before he spotted the cars up ahead. He followed at a discrete distance through the village of Ditchling. He knew where they were headed so didn’t have to get too close.
On the outskirts of Haywards Heath, the second car left Scott to return to Tintagel alone and headed into the centre of town. Powell decided there was more to be achieved by following the second car. He knew where Scott was headed.
Powell followed for a further five minutes and was shocked when he saw the large blue sign announcing the police station. The car didn’t stop out front, where the visitors parked, but headed towards the side of the building, which gave access to where the staff parked.
Powell watched as the driver approached the barrier, leaned out of his window and inserted something into the machine, which caused the barrier to raise. This was not a casual visitor. He had a pass to the police staff car park.
Powell didn’t hang around. He had seen enough and already written down the number plate of the car. He needed some sleep and time to think about the next steps. He needed to speak with Brian, who could trace the car registration.
Powell was going to have to tread very carefully. If the occupants of the car were police officers, as seemed likely, and they were dealing in drugs, which also seemed likely, then he was facing far more trouble than he had anticipated at the beginning of the evening.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Powell slept late, having only finally fallen asleep about four thirty. He’d had a large scotch when he returned home and spent some further time digesting what he’d seen.
It was ten when he turned over in his bed and reached for his phone. He was pleased to see it was Brian calling as he wanted to update him on the previous night’s events.
“I was going to call you,” Powell said, rather sleepily.
“Listen you’re in big trouble,” Brian replied instantly. “I think you can expect a visit from the police very shortly.”
Brian’s warning brought Powell alert. “What’s happened?”
“The ballistics report on the gun they found in your car has just been finalised. Seems the gun was used to kill a young man by the name of Stuart Brown. His body was found a couple of weeks ago. The police think it was a drug related shooting.”
“Shit! After what I discovered last night, I’m not surprised.”
“What do you mean? What did you discover last night?”
Powell explained what he’d seen.
“How do you do it?” Brian asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You have a knack for finding trouble.”
“I don’t go looking for it. It just tends to find me.”
“I’ll have the number plate checked out and see if I can identify who the police officers might be,” Brian offered. “What are you going to do?”
“I haven’t much choice. If I’m locked up in a cell for months, I’m never going to be able to prove my innocence. I need to disappear.”
“Try and keep out of harm’s way. You won’t get bail a second time.”
“What can you tell me about this Stuart Brown, I’m supposed to have killed?”
“He was a twenty eight year old, out of work reporter. Lived in Lewes and no police record. His body was discovered near Forest Row. He’d been buried in a shallow grave in the woods and was dug up by a couple of enthusiastic Terriers out for their morning walk.”
“So why do the police think his death was drug related?”
“They found a significant stash of drugs at his flat. They think he was dealing and it was a turf war.”
“That sounds vaguely familiar. Same sort of story someone wants to pin on me. And Forest Row isn’t far from Lindfield.”
“But why would they kill him?”
“You said he was a reporter. Perhaps he discovered something he shouldn’t?”
“Or perhaps he changed jobs and started working for Scott, then became greedy?”
“Maybe. Listen, I better get out of here before the police come calling. I’ll be in touch soon.”
Powell didn’t bother to shower and hurriedly packed a sports bag with a few essentials. He was out of the house and driving away within five minutes of finishing his call with Brian. If the police couldn’t find him, he wasn’t committing a crime by going on the run as his bail had been unconditional. He didn’t officially know about the ballistics report and they couldn’t charge someone they couldn’t find.
On the one hand, he would have liked to get as far away from Brighton as possible but that wasn’t a realistic option. He needed to stay close to Haywards Heath to prove his innocence but evading capture would be difficult. The police would be tracking his electronic fingerprints. Fortunately, he still had the passport in a false name, which he used to get out of Saudi Arabia, a couple of years earlier. It would come in useful if he did have to flee the country.
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He decided the best place to stay close and at the same time remain hidden, would be one of the bed and breakfast hotels in Crawley. Unlike the larger hotels at the airport, they wouldn’t require a credit card for identification, when he arrived, and preferred payment in cash.
Powell drove into Brighton and returned the hire car. His neighbours had seen his new Audi and when the police came calling, the nosiest of them would be able to give a description. He didn’t want the police tracing the car through cameras, all the way up the motorway to the airport.
In any event, the police would soon be combing all the hire car companies in Brighton, checking if someone called Powell had hired a car. He knew all hire cars contain a tracker so they can always be located. He didn’t have a driving license in his false name, only a passport and you couldn’t hire a car without a driving license so he would have to rely on public transport.
Powell had switched off his mobile phone at home and removed the battery so it couldn’t be traced. As he walked towards the station, he stopped in the shopping centre to purchase a cheap, pay-as-you-go phone, giving a false name and address.
Next, he visited a branch of his bank and took five hundred pounds out in cash, which was the maximum allowed in one day. He hoped it would suffice for about a week of living expenses. The police would trace the withdrawal but the central location of his bank branch would give no immediate clue about which direction he was headed.
Finally, he visited an outdoor clothes shop and purchased two items. He put the black hoody on first and then covered it with a large yellow, waterproof jacket with a hood. It was intended for sailing but its bright colour would suit his purpose. Satisfied with what he was wearing, he walked the five minutes to the station.
His face was obscured from the station cameras until he purchased a ticket from a machine, where he allowed the hood to slip. He bought a ticket to London and looked up to check the time on the large station clock, exposing his face for long enough to ensure, he could be identified when the police came to check the cameras.
