“But I don’t know what I want...”
“That’s life, Miray. You’ll figure it out. And whatever you do, wherever you go, I wish you well.”
“Joe?” she said, as he opened the door. He saw there were tears in her eyes. Hogarth nodded, leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
“To what might have been, eh? Ships in the night. Good luck, Miray. I wish you well.”
Hogarth walked out without turning back. He gave the woman a final wave and then he drove away. He’d played his ace card and he hoped he’d won. But the truth was he’d never really know until he lost. He pushed the thought away. There was still work to be done...
Twenty-six
Hogarth breezed into the station. Even the threat of an Atacan reprisal couldn’t wipe the grim smile from his face. If the man dared attack him, Devirim would risk the very thing he needed to avoid at all costs – a murder charge, certain capture, and a prison cell turning him into a sitting duck for his vengeful family. It was a sweet catch twenty-two. He wasn’t going to let a little fear spoil his day. Worry pressed in at the edges of his mind, but he pushed it away as he walked by the uniforms’ desks towards the CID office.
“Simmons,” said Hogarth, as he passed the PCSO team. “I’d like a word – if you can tear yourself away.”
Simmons tried not to look embarrassed. “Yes, sir.” He followed in Hogarth’s wake. Hogarth didn’t speak until they were in the CID room. He turned on Simmons before he could say another defensive word.
“Took your sweet old time coming to rescue us at Hamlet Court Road, didn’t you? It wasn’t the first time either.”
Simmons sighed and looked away.
“You’re acting like a dog in heat.”
“That’s not fair and it isn’t true,” said Simmons.
“It doesn’t have to be fair. It’s an observation from your senior officer. And as it happens, I’m on your side. But just a word of advice – calm it down before you end up with egg on your face. But it’s only advice. Ignore it if you want to. After all, what do I know about the fairer sex? All the same, I wouldn’t want to get burnt if I were you.”
Simmons glanced up, sheepish, and met Hogarth’s eye. “Guv, can we talk about something else?” he said.
“As matter of fact we can,” said Hogarth. “Your other little obsession – the strip curtains at Authentic Kebab. You, Simmons, were the only one to pay any attention to those damn ugly things. They even snagged my jacket once when I walked through, but I didn’t even think about it. But you did.”
“Sir?”
“You were right and I think it’s going to pay off. I found a piece of orange plastic from those curtains on Izmir Yuksel’s jacket...” Hogarth picked up the jacket from the side of his desk and unfolded it. “A black jacket, just like the one worn by the man who attacked DS Palmer. See. There’s the fragment. I’ll bet Marris will be able to link it to those curtains... and hopefully, we’ll find something else here too...” Hogarth flattened out the jacket and ran his fingers across the surface of the smooth black fabric. His fingers stopped on the right-hand side, just beneath the arm. “Here,” he said.
“What, guv?” said Simmons.
“A nick in the jacket – and it’s every bit as important as that piece of orange plastic. When Palmer defended herself from the attack, she used a knife – and that’s where she caught him. But it was only your idea that put me onto the jacket. What with that plastic fragment, this little nick, and the cheapo knife Palmer found in Sen’s kitchen, I’d say Izmir Yuksel is one hundred per cent bang to rights, whatever his flimsy alibi says. And you helped make that happen, Simmons.”
“But Izmir didn’t kill Baba Sen, did he?”
“Which brings me to why I wanted a word,” said Hogarth. “Do you think you could look into something for me? It’s urgent.”
“Of course, guv. What is it?”
“Ahsen Sen. I need you to get into his emails and check out his online history across the last few weeks. Can you do it?”
“I’d need his email address and passwords would be helpful. It could take hours, probably days without them.”
“I think I can manage that,” said Hogarth. “He might have hidden something, so you’ll need to be sharp.”
“What am I looking for?”
Hogarth ripped a piece of paper from a police-headed newsletter on the noticeboard and jotted down a single word. “You might find it hiding under another name,” he said, handing Simmons the note. “Just make sure you find it. I’ll get you his email address and passwords soon as I can.”
“Yes, guv.”
“And leave Kaplan out of this one. I need you fully focused.”
Simmons went to say something, but Hogarth raised an eyebrow of warning.
“I’ll get right on it, guv”
“Good man,” said Hogarth. “Where’s DS Palmer?”
“She’s with Izmir in IR1. Just warming him up for you now, guv.”
Hogarth nodded. “Then let her keep on warming. I’ll start with Ahsen. He’s our priority now.”
HE OPENED THE DOOR to Ahsen Sen’s cell and peered in. The young man looked up defiantly from his perch on the side of an empty bunk. Hogarth kept his face blank. The young man blinked, arms folded. Hogarth only needed one certain detail, and Ahsen’s vanity looked like his best way in.
“So...” said Hogarth. He wandered into the cell and let the door shut behind him. “They say you’re a ‘hacktivist’. An online freedom fighter.”
“I don’t care what they say. It’s still true,” said Ahsen. “It’s my duty as a free Turk to say what needs to be said.”
“But you say it from the other side of the continent. While all the poor buggers at home in Turkey bear the brunt of it all.”
“But those people need people like me. Erdoĝan is a dictator. Truly free voices are few.”
Hogarth nodded.
“Interesting. Very interesting... You know, I don’t think we’ve ever had a freedom fighter in here before, Ahsen. You know we’ll need to verify what you say, of course.”
“Everything I write is out there in the public domain,” said Ahsen. “That’s the glory of the web. It’s unstoppable.”
“Oh, we’ll need better access than that, Ahsen. I’ll need a list of the websites you used, passwords, all of it.”
“Why?” said the young man, his expression hardening. “I thought this was a free country.”
“It is. I couldn’t give a rat’s backside whatsoever about what you’ve said about the Turkish president. I only want to verify your background – to make sure your story stacks up. That’s all.”
The young man hesitated and gave Hogarth a cynical look. A moment later he sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Okay, okay. What does it matter?”
“The WhatsApp group is Izmir’s alibi. Which means you’re Izmir’s alibi. I need to check that too – all of it.”
The man sighed. “Fine. I’ll give you what you need. But you mustn’t share it with anyone. People will get hurt if you do.”
Hogarth arched his eyebrow. “They’ll stay anonymous. All the websites, Ahsen, all the passwords.”
“If I must.”
Hogarth nodded. “You must. DC Simmons will come to collect them shortly. And don’t hold out on him, Ahsen, not unless you want to end up in worse trouble.”
“I told you before, I would never hurt my grandfather like that...”
“No, Ahsen. I’m sure you wouldn’t. Not like that. Just give DC Simmons what he wants... and we’ll do the rest. Understand?”
Hogarth stepped out of the cell and shut the door.
HOGARTH WALKED INTO Interview Room 1 to find another set of folded arms on the far side of the table. Izmir sat there, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his eyes wide and tense. He looked at Hogarth and read his stern demeanour. Palmer looked up at Hogarth and he saw a flash of relief on her face. It was the first time she’d seen him since he’d left for the cash and carry.
“How
did it go, guv?” she said.
Hogarth tilted his head. “Let’s just say we all had a very frank exchange of views.”
“And?” said Palmer.
“Let’s wait until the dust has settled, shall we?” said Hogarth. “What about this one?” he added.
“He doesn’t want to talk,” said Palmer.
“No,” said Hogarth, dropping his backside into the seat opposite Izmir. “I can understand that. But it won’t help him very much.”
Izmir looked up at him.
“I told you, Izmir. Your sham alibi is a prosecutor’s dream. Your father has just proven himself to be a man of very dubious character. Having him vouch for your alibi just makes it even worse.”
“You’ve seen him? Does he know what you think I’ve done?
“He knows what I think about a lot of things. So does Devirim Atacan. Miray too.”
“What?! What the hell have you done?” Izmir shunted his seat back.
“Don’t panic. Dev and Yusuf don’t know you’ve been sleeping with Miray Atacan. I thought I’d leave that news for you to break.”
Izmir’s face darkened, and he thrust his hands to his face.
“No solicitor?” said Hogarth.
Palmer shook his head. “Said he doesn’t want one.”
“Because he’s worried the solicitor might tell Daddy the full story, eh? Especially if Daddy’s paying the solicitor’s tab. I can see that. But... you can still make this go away, Izmir.”
“What are you talking about? How can I make it go away?”
“By facing facts. First and foremost is the fact that Devirim Atacan didn’t kill Baba Sen, did he? As much as I’d like to get that scumbag red-handed for a murder, the Sen murder was all too amateur. And Devirim Atacan is a smart and experienced villain. When someone like him kills a man, he wouldn’t waste time setting up six different methods to do it. He’d do the job once and get out, quick, sharp and clean. Fact two. The easy stuff. You wear size nine shoes, don’t you? Our crime scene people say the killer wore size nine too.” Hogarth moved his head to look at Izmir’s feet. “Yeah. Those feet look like a match to me...”
“Lots of people wear size nines.”
“True. But did you bother to clean the shoes after you left the kebab shop? Remember, Izmir you went there twice, so you had better have wiped them clean both times because our forensics man is unbelievably good.”
The man looked rattled, but he kept quiet.
“Fact three. You came back to the scene of the crime to get something. None of us were sure why you came back. Not until we saw that knife. You came back for that, didn’t you? Because you knew there was a chance we could link it to your lot. Which was when you found DS Palmer in your way and you attacked her. Tell me, Izmir, would you have killed DS Palmer like you killed Baba Sen?”
Izmir shook his head.
“That knife links your father’s dodgy racket to the crime. That knife was an import from Albania, just like all your other iffy stock down in that shop. Which means again, it points back to you. It all points back to you, Izmir. You wore gloves, didn’t you? I know because our people never found your fingerprints. But then what do fingerprints matter when the killer leaves a knife and takes away some very important souvenirs?”
“Souvenirs?”
“A small piece of orange plastic from those strip curtains was stuck to your black jacket. The jacket you wore on the night of the murder. The jacket I took from you. And just as damning – DS Palmer here took a swipe at the man who attacked her. She tried to cut him with a knife, Izmir. Your jacket shows you were cut by that swipe. It was you, Izmir. You were there that morning. You were the one who attacked Baba Sen and battered him half way to death. You.”
Hogarth leaned forward.
“You think and act like you’re some kind of hero, Izmir, but all you are is a man who hid behind his father’s illegal money whenever it suited him. You run your little free-Turkey campaign behind Daddy’s back. But I think you were happy to let Ahsen Sen do all the legwork because if Daddy ever found out about your side-line as a wannabe freedom fighter, he would have slapped you down in a heartbeat. What you did – supporting people like Istanbul Salman, and all the others – that was just a balm for your rotten conscience. It was to make you feel better about yourself. Because deep down, Izmir, you know you’re a rotten piece of crap. You hate yourself and you hate your father, but you still took his money and work at the awful job he gave you. You’ve seen the way he treats Miray Atacan, yet you put up with it all, loving her in secret, doing nothing to help her, afraid of Dev Atacan the whole damn time...”
“Well, wouldn’t you be afraid of a man like that?!” snapped Izmir, shaking.
Hogarth’s lizard-like smile spread across his face.
“Me? Yes, I would. But we’re not talking about me, Izmir. The spotlight’s on you sunshine... it’s all on you. The freedom fighter who killed an old man – not for his friend – but to save his own skin. Oh, Izmir, I’d hate myself too if I was you.”
Izmir’s lip trembled. “I didn’t kill that man.”
“You know, I’d actually like to believe you,” said Hogarth. “I want to. But the signs were never good. And once we run forensics on that fleck of orange plastic on your black jacket – the fragment from the strip curtains – and if we find any of Baba Sen’s blood on that jacket– we’ll shred your alibi for good– you’ll be finished. And that Atacan you’re worried about. I don’t think he’ll be too thrilled with you after you tried to pin the murder on him. Tut-tut. Prison’s sounding not so bad all of a sudden, eh? And your crime showed shoddy workmanship too. You didn’t like Baba Sen much, did you? You broke his face and smashed him to the floor. Nasty, that. And premeditated too. You did all that after hiding, waiting and picking your moment, waiting for Baba to leave the back door open at the end of his shift. You waited and you stored up all that hate. But why did you hate him so much, Izmir?”
Izmir stayed quiet. Hogarth pushed on.
“The truth is you didn’t hate him, Izmir. You hated what he represented. What you made him into. This was your own pathetic revolution. All the hate you’ve been feeling because of your father, because of Devirim Atacan, because of hating yourself, you channelled it into killing Baba Sen. Why? Not because he was some mini-President Erdoĝan, but because he was an easy target. Because he was a convenient and ready-made patsy for all your sad little needs.”
“That’s not true. That man was going to harm Ahsen... he hated us...”
Hogarth heard the words but pretended to ignore them. He pushed on.
“And after your anger was spent, you knew you needed to cover your tracks with a proper motive for the murder. A robbery seemed obvious, so you faked it. Badly. It was a mess on top of a mess. Then you saw you had the chance to get rid of your Atacan problem. If Devirim Atacan went down for the murder, you and Miray would have been free to be together, and if Ahsen stayed free, so much the better. So you cut an ‘A’ in Baba Sen’s head. In for a penny, in for a pound, eh, Izmir? For a man of morals, you shredded yours whenever it suited you. Why? Because you never really had any in the first place. You killed Baba Sen because it suited you in every way.”
“Lies!”
“Are they really, Izmir? Why then can I see it in your eyes? You know you killed him. It’s time you told us the truth.”
Izmir stared into Hogarth’s eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was a whisper.
“You were right about some things, inspector,” said Izmir. “But not all of it. One way or another, Baba Sen had to be stopped. If not, Ahsen was going to pay the heaviest price. Whatever you think you know, you must understand Baba Sen was not a good man... Baba Sen was the enemy.”
“The enemy, was he?” said Hogarth. He leaned forward in his seat. “Carry on, Izmir. Care to tell us which bits we were right about? Because I’m all ears.”
HOGARTH SAT OPPOSITE Ahsen Sen in the interview room.
“Your father Orcun, wanted to be
here, but you refused. Why?”
“Because this isn’t about him,” said Ahsen. “This is about me.” Ahsen met Hogarth’s eyes, cool and detached.
“About you, is it?” said Hogarth, with a glint in his eye.
Ahsen saw the glint, hesitated, but nodded anyway.
“Tell me how it’s about you, Ahsen.”
“Wait. You’re misreading me on purpose. You’re goading me.”
“No, I’m not Ahsen. This is easy,” said Hogarth. “You’re the one talking and I’m the one listening.”
“But I’m only here because you need a culprit for my grandfather’s murder, and you pursue me and Izmir even though the evidence has been staring you in the face.”
Hogarth looked back at Ahsen Sen and let the man’s own words condemn him.
The young man shook his head. “You know what I meant.”
“Did Izmir Yuksel kill your grandfather?”
Ahsen Sen looked up. “No! That murderer, Devirim Atacan killed him. My grandfather resisted Yusuf Yuksel’s racket, so eventually, of course, they killed him for it. It’s obvious.”
“Too obvious. And with too many holes. It’s not true, Ahsen. Devirim Atacan had a very good reason to leave Baba Sen alone,” said Hogarth. “But I like your style, Ahsen. Very matter of fact. Very pragmatic. And cold as hell.”
“What do you want from me? Life and death happen every day,” said Ahsen, with a shrug. “In Turkey, people just disappear. The soldiers of the revolution, they disappear. Protestors, the real ones, the ones who fight for freedom, they disappear.”
“But you? You refused to disappear, didn’t you, Ahsen?”
The man stiffened in his chair and frowned at Hogarth.
“What are you talking about? I live in England. I’m talking about the oppressed people who live in Turkey, under Erdoĝan’s dictatorship.”
Hogarth shrugged. “I knew what you meant. Forgive my ignorance of Turkish politics. DS Palmer’s more of an aficionado than me. But I know this president of yours is a dictator. But my job is to deal with the dictators, the liars, the killers in front of me, Ahsen. The one who takes matters into their own hands at the expense of his victims. And I’ve seen a lot of things which point to your friend, Izmir. Things which won’t go away. Izmir is finished, Ahsen. Izmir took drastic action to make Baba Sen disappear. And while he was at it, he used that murder to try and make his other problems disappear.”
The Secret Fear Page 34
