“In our view, the manager at Longford Exotic Cars was in just such a position. I just got off the phone to him. It seems that, whilst he has no recollection of that car being hired by Celebrato, he checked the records as requested and they showed that a hire had been arranged on that date. He has persuaded himself that he must have been busy elsewhere and so it had slipped his mind. Invited to do so by their investigator, he printed off relevant pages of the hire database and signed off on it. As for his testimony on the cleanliness of the car, I think a jury could foresee the possibility of a tiny, clear contact lens escaping the attention of a minimum wage car cleaner.
Given our conviction that you’re right about Gillian Davis being the murderer, Dee and I drew up a list of three questions for the manager that we felt might clarify the matter once and for all.
Question one - is there an invoice in the system for the hire, or did it appear only on the database?
Two - are Celebrato on Exotic Cars customer contact list? If so, when were they entered onto it?
Three - have their accounts department ever received a cheque for that hire?
In answer to those questions the manager has confirmed that there is an invoice, but it’s a little puzzling. It seems that the invoices are usually generated automatically by the computer software and are automatically given the next available number in sequence. That means that any invoice slipped in later will not fit into the numbering system in the order it should. Exotic Cars have confirmed that the invoice to Celebrato is not numbered in sequence.
Further enquiries have shown that no-one at the company has Celebrato on their customer contact list, which is very odd for a business that thrives on repeat business.
Finally, according to the book-keeper, no payment has ever been received by Exotic Cars for the Celebrato hire. The lady we spoke to appeared very professional and she also noted that the invoice did not appear on the VAT records, whatever they are. My contact at CJIS tells me that VAT comes with an onerous tax recording system that is strictly enforced. Conclusions?”
The gathering considered the new information, and slowly the frigid stares passing between the two policemen began to thaw.
“Someone hacked into the database and altered it. They created a fake invoice electronically, which never existed in reality, and then they directed the investigator to enquire about the non-existent hire,” DCI Coombes responded, clear admiration in his voice.
“Then the manager, confused by the conflict between his own imperfect recollection and a convincing paper trail that showed a hire had taken place, he subconsciously chose to accept the fake paper trail. Clever bastards!” DS Scott swore.
Steve Post looked at Dee.
“Dee and I both had the same thought and so a colleague of mine, who must remain anonymous, tried hacking into the databases of both Celebrato and Exotic Cars. He was able to obtain administrator’s access in less than a minute. Administrators can edit or alter records.
Dee, gentlemen, we have destroyed their rebuttal evidence but at the same time we have clouded the issue. In their favour, they have made a valid argument that undermines our key piece of evidence. A court is likely to accept, at least in principle, that one way or another the contact lens could have been in the hire car when Vastrick hired it. Unless you have anything else to offer, there is no prospect at all that the US Courts will grant an extradition warrant. The case is way too fragile at present, and that is before she wheels out the big guns who owe her father a favour or two.”
***
The interview reconvened, and DCI Coombes outlined their findings and suggested that the manager at Exotic Cars vacillated to such a degree that Davis’ reliance on his depositions was unwise.
“Bravo, DCI Coombes,” Pat Monaghan enthused, “you have confirmed exactly what we have been saying. No-one can have any confidence that the contact lens was dropped on the day of the murder. Now, I am quite certain that if we check carefully enough we will find that Ms Davis has an alibi for the time of the crime. After all, she is a busy woman, running a multimillion dollar business. My guess is that when we check her records back in London, those will also give rise to some argument.”
“You mean you’ll construct an alibi, whatever it takes,” Coombes snapped.
“DCI Coombes, we are here voluntarily. We were hoping to keep everything amicable, but you are becoming antagonistic. Please let me calm matters down a little.
Off the record, I believe we all know that you have no case against my client. An extradition warrant based on your alleged evidence will not even reach the court. It will be sent back for ‘want of cause’. The purpose of this meeting has been to confirm this reality to you and the persons sitting behind the glass.
Now, I am in the happy position of being able to assist you in the resolution of this terrible crime. I can confirm that my client knows who did kill the Hokobus.”
If Steve Post hadn’t given up swearing along with alcohol and coffee when he found religion, this would have been an occasion when he would have let rip a stream of profanity. Instead, his words were measured.
“Here we go. The SODDIT defence.”
“Sorry?” Pete asked, puzzled.
“Some Other Dude Did it,” Steve answered without humour.
***
“I am reliably informed that you will be receiving an encrypted email from the UK, specifically from the Home Office, which will contain a redacted version of a statement my client has made and which has been accepted by your superiors,” Monaghan stated. “Her statement will clearly say that another person committed the murders and that your own security services are aware of the killer’s past murderous history. Fortunately for us all, and perhaps by way of justice for the murdered couple, the murderer is himself dead and conclusive evidence of his demise has kindly been furnished by my cooperative client.
When you see the statement, you will see that my client is not attempting to hide her shameful involvement. On the contrary, she is shoring up your rather woeful case. No, my client is placing herself in the hands of the US authorities, who will consider the degree of her culpability, and she trusts that they and their UK counterparts will give her credit for her honesty and cooperation.”
When the lawyer stopped talking, DCI Coombs was almost speechless, but he soon found his voice.
“Why stop there? You lot can give her a medal, and on our side of the Atlantic we’ll see if we can rustle up an OBE. Hell’s teeth, your client is a hero.” He slammed his closed fist down on the metal table.
“Come on, Gillian, we’ve done all we can here,” the attorney said as he rose to leave, and on that note Gillian Davis and her counsel left the room and the building.
Chapter 60
MI5 HQ, Thames House, London. Thursday 7pm.
The conference room was already buzzing when the Director walked in. Dame Monica Stewart-Smith sat down and the room fell silent.
“Gentlemen, this has been the worst day for MI5 for a generation, and by God we have seen some bad ones before. So, I want to get this out of the way, and quickly.
Andy, has the redacted Affidavit gone back to the States?”
“Yes Ma’am, almost two hours ago. I blanked out anything that might remotely have caused concern,” the Security Services Director nodded before firing off another question.
“Good. Jeremy, are you lawyers happy with the situation? Are we squeaky clean?”
“Well, Ma’am, happy is not the word,” Jeremy replied. “The Commissioner, and the Metropolitan Police generally, are hopping mad that the Home Secretary has cut them off at the knees, but they won’t be pursuing the case any further. The murderer is dead, and we have shared the evidence with them.”
“She had no choice, Jeremy. This confounded Davis woman has taken on the establishment and has given us a sound whipping.” Dame Monica turned to a distinguished looking man of indeterminate years with a shiny bald head.
“Lawrence, she listed several funds that we have used to pay her in the pas
t. Are they closed, and have the funds been secured?”
“Yes, Ma’am, but there was one account under the name of Britannic Investment Group, in the Isle of Man, that did not belong to us. Miss Davis appears to have inadvertently given us the account details, password and pass number for an account of her own. There was close to a million pounds in deposits in the account.”
“What did you do with it, Lawrie?” the lady asked, using Lawrence’s familiar name.
“We emptied it, Ma’am.” There was laughter all around.
“OK, everyone, let’s put this all behind us and move on; we have a country to keep safe.” Dame Monica intended the meeting to end there.
“And Barry Mitchinson, Ma’am, what should I do there?” the new Director of Special Operations asked.
“Oh, you can leave him to me,” his boss said with menace in her voice.
***
Barry Mitchinson was sitting in the apartment watching Countdown on Channel 4, thinking to himself, ‘So it’s all come down to this; watching daytime TV,” when the phone rang. It was Maureen Lassiter.
“Barry, Five have just cleared a compromise agreement with Gillian Davis. The Home Secretary has signed off on a deal where Doug gets stiffed for the murder and she is ticked off for being an unwitting accomplice. Barry, the chatter on the third floor and in the restaurant is that you’re the one who’s getting the blame. You’re going to be the scapegoat. Everyone is saying that the authorities have had to back off because she has evidence that MI5 tried to kill her. They are also saying that it was you who gave that order.”
Barry’s response would not have been capable of being broadcast until well after the watershed.
“Get me a copy of the agreement,” he added, still seething. “I want to see what that bitch says and I want to be prepared if I’m to be called in front of the old hag again, which seems inevitable now.” Barry paused midstream. “Maureen, we may need to do a runner, and quick.” He looked at his watch. It was too late now to start calling banks.
“Maureen my love, tomorrow we’ll transfer the funds to the Caymans and make sure our passports are up to date. I don’t trust the old Dame to honour her part of the deal. If she’ll dump on the Met, she’ll dump on me double quick.”
They said their goodbyes, and Maureen set about finding a copy of the agreement, one without the redacted elements, if possible. There was nothing on the server, at least nothing that she could access with level three clearance, and so she tried to think laterally. After a few aborted attempts to access the cache files stored on the server, waiting to be scrubbed - deleted by overwriting with ones and zeros twenty one times - she gave up on that. Suddenly she had an idea. It was risky, but it was the only way.
Maureen Lassiter had covered for Vanessa in the Legal Section many times; the woman was a sick leave aficionado. Vanessa worked only part time and so her workstation was empty by this time of day. Maureen booted up Vanessa’s desktop computer and hoped that the part timer hadn’t changed the password since last month. She needn’t have worried. After a few key strokes the computer welcomed Vanessa Adamson to the server.
Maureen guessed that at sometime during the day the Legal Section head would have been copied in on the agreement, and so she used his PA’s access to his Outlook account. The bosses in this place were supposed to be security conscious, but they allowed their PAs to arrange their appointments and deal with their meeting invitations. This gave the PAs access to their bosses email.
Maureen found what she wanted and forwarded the email to her own desktop before deleting her email from the ‘sent’ box. She was just clearing up when a voice called her name.
“Maureen, what are you doing here?” The head of Legal Services was smiling down at her. He had just returned from one of his interminable meetings and was carrying a file under his arm.
“I was wondering, Maureen. Now that your Director is no longer with us, well, maybe you could transfer into here. Vanessa is a waste of space. Things are always done more efficiently when you stand in for her. In fact, I wouldn’t mind betting that you are remedying another of her faux pas as we speak.”
“Vanessa managed to lock herself out of the timesheet system, but I’ve put her back on. Please don’t tell her I told you,” Maureen pleaded.
“I won’t, but give my suggestion some thought, won’t you? There could be a hike in pay grade if you transfer over.”
“Jeremy, I’d love to work for you, if you think you could swing it,” Maureen simpered.
“I think I can arrange it,” Jeremy replied, with a knowing wink that suggested he knew more about her carnal predilections than he ought to have known.
Chapter 61
Courtyard Marriott Hotel, Lynchburg, Virginia, Thursday 9:30pm.
Steve Post, Dee, Pete and DS Scott sat in the restaurant waiting for their food, although no-one had any real appetite. DCI Coombs had been on the phone to Scotland Yard for almost an hour and they were now emailing him the agreement, or affidavit. Coombes would have had no idea how to access the attachment or how to print it, and so the young lady in the business centre was seconded into helping him. Her name was Melody and she was as pretty as the name sounded.
“What I don’t understand,” DS Scott puzzled over, “is why we had to go through that charade today. Why deny everything and wreck our case if she was just going to admit her involvement anyway?”
Dee answered after a quick glance in the direction of the FBI man.
“Paul, she has played us all. The woman is always several steps ahead of the game. She wanted to cooperate so that she could show you, and the Americans, that we had no chance of making a case for extradition, let alone conviction. My guess is that if she had made the admission without first destroying the case, the Metropolitan Police would have decided to take their chances and drag her back to the UK anyway. By rubbishing the case against her she was saying, look, I could walk away from this free and clear, but I want to do the decent thing.”
“Magnanimous in victory?” Paul Scott asked.
“Yes.” Dee was about to continue when a red faced DCI Coombes came over to the table and flung down three copies of the affidavit.
The affidavit was couched in legalese and had been redacted, but it was clear enough. Dee and Pete shared a copy and read through it quickly.
Affidavit
Sworn this 28th day of January in the year 2011.
Before:
Martin K Sherman, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the USA.
I, Gillian Davis, do swear and affirm, under oath, and in the presence of a notary and of witnesses simple, that my statement is a full and honest account, including no fabrications or misdirection and excluding no pertinent facts. I attest that the following words represent my full and complete testimony on the below stated matter:
Statement of:
Gillian Davis, formerly of 311 Covingham Buildings, Partington Road, London. United Kingdom.
I acknowledge and understand that any statement I give may be used as evidence before any court, tribunal or other hearing, howsoever constituted, relating to the deaths in the United Kingdom of Mr Samuel Etundi and Mrs Victoria Hokobu.
The said Gillian Davis will say as follows:
Following the termination of my employment by the UK Government on 23rd July 2007, in the Special Operations Section of Military Intelligence often referred to as MI5, I was approached by Mr Douglas McKeown, also a former operative with the aforesaid agency. Mr McKeown was operating as a sole trader offering outsourced security assistance to various wealthy individuals, companies and to his former employers. His identity was kept secret and his clients knew him only as the Chameleon.
Mr Mc Keown had always been a good friend to me and had acted as my mentor when I first entered the service. I trusted him implicitly and, on reflection, I now see that I looked to him as the Father I had never known. Our relationship was affectionate but not sexual.
Until the arrival of the Hokobus all
of the Chameleon’s assignments had been overseas, clear cut and morally defensible, otherwise I would have dissolved the partnership immediately. Typical assignments included the removal of terrorist suspects, Somali Pirates and the protection of major political figures. I recall that on each occasion where he took an assignment that had geo political implications, he required that the agency requesting the Chameleon’s services first clear the assignment with the Chameleon’s main customer, one Mr Barry Mitchinson at the aforementioned agency. As far as I am aware if Mr Barry Mitchinson recommended that we should not proceed we refused the assignment. The Chameleon was a hired gun but his alter ego, Doug, was patriotic. He was not interested in acting against his country or his country’s interests.
This all changed last year when I assisted him in arranging the demise of a HAMAS leader for the Israeli’s. Apparently, they been rumbled carrying out an assassination in Dubai and they could not afford any more bad publicity. Doug carried out the approved assignment and the Israeli’s refused to pay. I recall that Doug was livid and I began to think that he had changed. His home life was falling apart and he seemed to be having a breakdown. I was set against his proposed course of action and refused to be involved. As a result he employed a contact we have used before, whose name I do not know, and he assassinated the Foreign Minister of Israel. The operation was clean as far as Doug was concerned but the French and Israeli operatives turned it into a bloodbath. I had travelled to Paris to find Doug and to dissuade him from such precipitate action, as it could only lead to trouble. By the time I tracked him down it was too late. I saw the assassination unfold on the TV news and so I travelled back to the UK and did not tell him about my abortive trip.
Our bank account was credited with the money owed within 24 hours.
By Christmas I had effectively dissolved the partnership, due to Doug’s mood swings, which I put down to drugs and/or drink, and concentrated on my business, Celebrato Greeting Cards.
Then three weeks ago Doug asked me to assist him in the abduction of a ‘rabblerousing’ couple from central Africa, who he had been told were intending to ‘damage UK interests in Marat’ and ‘overthrow the legitimate government of Marat’ to the great detriment of the already poverty stricken citizens. I understood that the initial instructions had emanated from a Mr Jalou Makabate.
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