Tim Heath Thriller Boxset

by Tim Heath

  “The point is that this has become a political hot potato, I think that is how you would say it. It’s given the Kremlin some power over the UK. Threats are being made towards Russia, and you must know that that only goes to fuel the feud between our two nations.”

  “So I’m caught in the middle of something?”

  “Not as such, Bill, in so far as this is an actual crime and the only evidence they have, which is a lot, points to you. But yes, your trial has become the focal point in the conflict, for want of a better word. Tomorrow, once I’m done, we’ll see in the judge’s closing words exactly where he wants the jury to return a verdict, though he won’t be so blatant as to say it. It’ll be in his tone. He’ll no doubt labour the evidence again as if to remind them, should they have forgotten somehow. It’ll be in the way he talks about you and the reminder of justice that needs to be served and all that. If we are done by about four, then the jury have time tomorrow evening to return the verdict. Court stays open until eight, so they’ll have four hours. Any verdict returned in the first three hours has to be unanimous, so I wouldn’t expect a verdict before seven, but anything after that can be a majority. So a verdict just after seven would be highly possible, especially if they are presented the case by four. And I’d say that’s our best shot. The longer we allow the trial to go on, the more time we allow the prosecution to labour the point and drill in the fact that they want you guilty. I’ve done my best for you. I guess if you do have some favour in the jury, in the form of this woman you’ve mentioned, then this probably is our best shot. Of course, another five people wouldn’t be bad either.”

  “Do I have much chance?”

  “Not a lot, but there is always hope. While the judge represents the system, those twelve jurors represent real Russia. Good, honest people. They are hard-working men and women, often hard-pressed. If there are some on the jury who hate the system in our country, they might see the connections your trial has with the Kremlin and vote with you to send a message to their leaders. Of course, there are some who love our country and fear foreigners. A throw-back to Soviet times when strangers always meant suspicion and where speaking with a foreigner could mean imprisonment. Half the jury lived through some of those times, remember. Those were dark days in our history that have left a deep wound. My grandfather vanished one day and was never heard of again. That’s always made my mother particularly scared of strangers. She was only twelve when she lost her father.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Bill said.

  “Don’t be, and it’s the least of your concerns right now,” his lawyer said, as there was a knock on the metal door, telling them both it was time to finish and move on.

  The door was opened, and the lawyer walked out with Bill into the windowless corridor.

  “Try and get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, leaving Bill to be taken by the guards back to his cell. It was going to be an anxious night. Sleep was very unlikely.

  It was Thursday, day four of the trial in St Petersburg. At three, local time, the jury had been handed the case to return a verdict, and they had been retired to come back with a decision. In his closing speech, the judge had laboured the point; it was clear he wanted Bill found guilty.

  Five hours further east, in South Korea, the night was setting in. Vladimir had arrived at Incheon International Airport from Moscow during the morning and was collected and taken to Suwon, a densely populated province about an hour south of the capital Seoul. It was far from an official visit and, as such, he’d carried out his meetings in an expensive hotel, the vast lobby area making the perfect place to in which to mingle. No one took any notice when a party of three men from Samsung arrived, South Korea’s giant electronics company. The meeting had been arranged mutually, and both sides were eager to talk with one another. Vladimir represented RusCom, the Russian computer company due to be sold off following the murder of its owner; the accused was standing trial as they met.

  Talks were at a very early stage and were deliberately conducted away from watching eyes. At the same time that Vladimir was touching down in South Korea, sixteen hours west of there, where it was still Wednesday afternoon, Evgeni was landing at Oakland International Airport, California. He was then driven forty-five minutes south to the city of Cupertino, which sat south-east of San Francisco and due west of San José. At a nondescript café just off Highway 280, he met, in much the same way that his colleague was doing in Korea, with a team consisting of two men and two women representing the interests of Apple.

  Both companies were being offered the opportunity to buy RusCom. Both groups had themselves put out feelers, happy that their meeting was now taking place. Neither company knew of the other being offered the same deal as they were being presented. RusCom would be keeping that one quiet until much later. They knew it wouldn’t be popular, but from their side, it shored up interest. If there wasn’t to be a buyer emerging from Russia to take over the company, better to have lined up a deal with both of the giants who feared missing out entirely. As far as they saw it, it was win-win. For them.

  At both meetings, highly confidential design details were handed over as proof of what RusCom held. Apple was highly sceptical and nearly walked out there and then, but stayed when it was promised that their claims would be proved before they’d have to firm up their offer. Samsung kept their views to themselves too but was not overly impressed until the same promise was made, which kept them interested enough to sit out the remainder of the meeting. As Thursday night approached in Korea, it was already very late in California. Both sessions concluded, both with interest piqued. They would watch the developments of the following few weeks but, crucially, both would put together a proposal with the funds set aside for a cash purchase, both proposals pending proof regarding the claims made about RusCom's flagship project.

  Vladimir was able to catch the late flight back to Moscow, while Evgeni was due to leave the States the following morning. He had checked into a local hotel. Both of their missions had been a success. Both had handled their assignments well and knew their employer would be grateful for what they’d done. It remained to be seen if in fact an offer, or better still: two offers, would be made.

  17

  In St Petersburg, the jury returned at half past seven with a verdict. Bill was brought back into the courtroom, his lawyer always close. The fact that it had taken longer than the initial three hours meant it wasn’t a unanimous decision. He hadn’t been expecting that, and in fact, had they returned that quickly, it could only have been bad news. He smiled at the lady on the front row, who was herself looking at him, a smile appearing briefly on her face, before she looked away, becoming serious as the judge was beginning his speech.

  Behind him, in the gangways and on the balcony above, there were crowds of people once more. Four days of trial and seemingly no let-up in the interest. They had all been surprised at how short the whole thing had been. The judge was drawing to a close.

  “Can I ask the spokesperson to stand up,” he said.

  Bill was astonished to see his smiling lady being the one that stood. He turned to his lawyer.

  “That’s her,” he said. “That’s the lady that has been the most open towards me.”

  The lawyer nodded but didn’t say anything in return.

  “Have you reached a decision?” the judge asked.

  “Yes, we have,” she replied.

  There was an excited murmur running through the courthouse, like electricity running through a security fence.

  “On the count of the highest charge of murder with treason and the intention to kill, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?” he asked

  Camera’s flashed as she paused, taking her time to look again at her notes. She glanced around the courtroom, finishing on Bill himself. He returned the gaze. He saw compassion there, he could sense it.

  “We, the jury, return a verdict of,” and she paused. Just for a moment. There was something in her smile that brought hope
for the first time. “Guilty!” The word landed like a sledgehammer on concrete. Bill’s muscles involuntarily tensed. The courtroom raised in noise as people took in the verdict. To many, it had not been a surprise. Bill’s lawyer sat down next to him.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, though Bill was not able to process any of what had just happened. He heard very little of what the judge went on to say.

  “Mr William Hackett. You have been found guilty of the state crime of murder against Mr Anthony Fernandes, an act of treason against Russia. For this crime, I have no choice but to sentence you to death by shooting. You have no right to appeal. May God have mercy on you.”

  Three guards came over and prepared to take Bill away. He looked shocked and dumbstruck. Nothing made any sense to him anymore. The judge left the courtroom, followed by the jury, none of whom took one look at Bill, as he was led to the door.

  “The best of luck to you, Mr Hackett,” was all the lawyer could manage. It was the last time they would see each other.

  News of the conviction spread as quickly as the reporters present could leave and get the story out. Within thirty minutes, it was being picked up by all the international news channels, the result broadcast around the world.

  Anya Lubova had been outside the courthouse when the verdict was being given. She’d been told of it within minutes. In London Charlie and Zoe were watching the television coverage, waiting for news. When the result was given, they both stood up and paced around. While not a surprise, given the evidence, the sentencing would bring the UK and Russia into direct conflict. There was some talk of a special operations mission to extract Bill, but that had been dropped. He was, after all, most likely guilty of the shooting. Though they didn’t agree with the sentence, and wouldn’t have allowed the extradition if they’d been told about it beforehand, it wasn’t as if he was some high-profile hostage that needed rescuing. Still, plans were once more now being talked through.

  Anya’s father had been called into a special sitting of the House of Lords in preparation for a guilty verdict being returned. They were buried in conversation as night approached in London. Anya’s mother was at the Kremlin when the judgment was given. She was watching a ballet at the Kremlin Theatre when a piece of paper was passed to her, notifying her of the outcome. She excused herself from those she was with shortly after.

  It was a turbulent Thursday, and yet things had not even begun to escalate. Friday was to be the start of intense negotiations and threats made between the UK and Russia.

  It was Saturday morning in the UK, and Charlie woke up to the television where Bill’s daughter, now recognisable and widely interviewed, was being given time on the BBC morning news bulletin.

  “Beth, you’ve come to symbolise so much for people in this country over the last months since your father’s arrest. Tell us, what has this last week done to you?” said the news reporter in the London studio. The camera zoomed in on Beth, who was wearing a simple but elegant light blue dress.

  “I speak for my whole family when I say that this last week has been a very difficult one. From the outset, we’ve stated that this was a mistake, that our father is an innocent man and that he should never have been allowed to be handed over as he was.” She still couldn’t forgive her country for the extradition in the first place. “What has followed has been nothing but a show, put on for the world to think that due justice is taking place and yet, at the end of it all, finding guilty the one man they have arrested in connection to this horrible crime. While our condolences go out to the family and widow of Mr Fernandes, we do not accept the verdict that our father, Bill Hackett, was in any way responsible for this horrible crime.” Although the interviewer had a real connection to Beth after following the story from the beginning and being the first reporter to meet with her on the day of her father’s arrest, she couldn’t help the journalistic instinct inside her which prompted her to push matters further.

  “Beth, regarding the charges, a lot has been coming to light this week, as the trial has commenced, where details of the evidence against your father have been made known. This was a lot more than was originally released and goes some way to making a case for conviction. What have you got to say about that?” Beth shot her a look and wanted to say something horrible, but the red light on the camera that was moving in for a closer shot of her reminded her that she was live on television. She relaxed for a moment.

  “Obviously, the evidence that has reportedly been used in the trial to convict my father wrongly is rather damning in itself. Since no British lawyer was allowed to examine most of this evidence before the trial, and that no material witnesses were given access to the trial from the UK, it seems clear that the Russians have done all they could to speed this one through the system.”

  “So you are claiming that the evidence has been rigged?”

  “No, Catherine, I’m not claiming that at all,” Beth said, a flash of colour going across her face. “All I’m saying is that both sides were not allowed equal access to the evidence beforehand, so there is no way of guaranteeing it was all what it's claimed. Also the absence of witnesses that would back up my father’s story was of significant cost to his case.”

  “You are aware that much of the physical evidence was handed over to the British authorities before your father's extradition?” She was not aware, and it showed.

  “Well, the key items I’m sure they had not seen, giving them the chance to run their own tests themselves, for example.” The interviewer got word through the earpiece that she needed to start wrapping up the interview, just when it seemed she would have been able to open Beth up a bit, she apparently wasn’t entirely informed about what had happened.

  “So what do you want the government to do for you? Is there anything they can do?” was what she settled for in the end.

  “We have been in talks with the Home Office since before my father was handed over to Russia. There was a groundswell of support against his extradition, and that voice has grown stronger since. The message has to be made clear. This was an error made by our government to send a man to a country where the death penalty is still active. It was a huge error of judgement to assume that justice could be carried out in a country at war with its own neighbours, in a time of huge international differences with Russia. Our leaders should have stood up to protect people like my father. I blame the Prime Minister himself who had the power to override the extradition order at the last minute but opted not to. That decision has led to the situation we have today. It’s time we stood up to countries like Russia, which think they can bully people with their aggressive nature, getting away with whatever they like.”

  It was the soundbite they needed to end the interview. That closing statement would be covered in all the Sunday papers, opened up and explored, each claim connected back to a story from earlier on in the case, at a time when options were still open.

  Charlie switched off the television. Beth’s image and voice reminded him a lot of Anya, who too had been covered much on Russian news stations and his mind drifted for a moment to his former partner. He stayed briefly in that place but soon came back to the here and now. His phone was ringing.

  “Zoe, how are you doing this fine day?”

  “Excellent, thanks. Have you just seen the interview?”

  “Yes. What did you make of it?”

  “Same old Beth. She seemed a little taken aback by the question about the UK having seen the evidence. She shouldn’t have been, I’d certainly mentioned something along those lines when I met with her, but those were early days, and I think her focus was on clearing his name. She has never believed anything other than her father’s innocence.”

  “I know. It’s a charming thing, loyalty, in a world that can be so unforgiving.” There was a pause before Zoe got to the reason for her call.

  “Charlie, I need to talk through something with you, but best if we do this in person. Are you coming to the office later?” It was Saturday. The case was already a week pa
st its sell-by date, he worked for MI6, and she worked for Scotland Yard. They had different worlds, different jobs and weren’t a team anymore, but still, he was having this conversation.

  “I’ll see you at twelve,” he said and ended the call.

  It was ten past twelve when Charlie walked into the office where he’d primarily been camped out for the last month. Zoe handed him a coffee and led him into a small side room. It was clear no one would be joining them, nor was there any room for them. Zoe shut the door.

  “What’s up, Zoe?”

  “Look. You know we put a watch on RusCom following everything that’s happened,” Charlie nodded at the obvious. “Well, the team have come back with something that might be nothing, but the timing is a little odd.”

  “Go on,” Charlie said.

  “Two senior employees of RusCom flew into Moscow at the end of this week, one arriving late Thursday night, the other arrived yesterday. The first was on a flight from South Korea and the second arrived from California.”

  “Any confirmation as to what they were doing?”

  “No, we only picked it up once they'd arrived in Moscow. Thought nothing of the first guy until the second arrived a day after. Now, what could two senior figures in RusCom be doing flying from airports where both are close to electronics giants Samsung and Apple?” Charlie had not connected the dots until Zoe suggested the latest. He didn’t want to let on.

  “Okay,” he said. “Keep doing some digging into this. If they are speaking to either about the sale of the company, we need to know. The word is that it’ll be a public auction, though the Fernandes estate wholly owns the shares, so I guess they have the right to sell to anyone. But the comment attributed to Fernandes that he made against these two giants, would make it seem strange that the family would be looking to sell out to either one.”