Goody looked at Gilchrist and gestured with his head towards Heap. ‘He’s a bit lippy for one so small.’ He gave Heap a hard look. ‘Then again I knew a Scottish nutter about your size who could go through an entire room. They used to say the only way to stop him was to kill him. Which is eventually what happened, of course.’ Goody looked up at the ceiling. ‘I’m opposed to violence. Not because I’m a wuss, Detective Sergeant – I have no problem standing up for myself – but on a job it’s counterproductive.’
‘So will you tell us who you think this man might be?’
‘I will not – Marquis of Crimesbury rules and all that. But I will tell you what you should already have thought of. Who has broken out of prison recently?’
Gilchrist nodded. ‘OK. That’s not going to get you much but thanks. Can we get you something in here in return?’
‘You kidding? Since drones were invented – God bless you, guv’nor, whoever you are who invented them – every high-security prison is like an open prison. I can get whatever I want, pretty much whenever I want.’ He chuckled. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever did escape was able to do so with a rope ladder dropped over the prison wall by a drone at exercise time.’
‘Mr Goody,’ Heap said, ‘might I ask you a slightly different question?’
‘Be my guest. You two seem relatively intelligent and intelligent conversation is hard to find with this bunch of thickos in here – that was the most cruel and unusual punishment the British legal system could provide for me, bunging me in here with a load of retards.’
Heap looked at Gilchrist. ‘Ma’am, with permission – this has just occurred to me.’ Gilchrist nodded, wondering what he was going to say. Heap surprised her with: ‘When you were running your drug operation in Spain, I imagine you got your drugs from Morocco. Did you have dealings with Said Farzi?’
Goody sat back. ‘Let me look you up and down, Detective Sergeant – as you’ll realize it won’t take but a moment. Said Farzi. Is he involved in this?’
‘You got your drugs from Morocco?’
‘Well, it was a bit more complicated than that but for marijuana, essentially, yes. Cocaine was something different and that came a different route. I understand now the Albanians have pretty much taken it over in the UK. Ruthless bastards.’
Heap nodded. ‘The harder drugs came over from South America in one direction and Afghanistan in the other, but the cannabis was Moroccan home-grown.’
‘He knows his stuff this detective sergeant.’
‘My name is Bellamy Heap,’ Heap said. ‘Was Said Farzi a major player in this?’
Goody gave a big, toothy grin. ‘Now can I get a deal on this kind of info? Marquis of Crimesbury rules don’t apply to this geezer.’
‘Because he’s a different skin colour?’ Heap said.
Goody frowned. ‘No, you numpty, it’s because he’s an untrustworthy sleazebag. And I draw the line at human trafficking, slavery and prostitution. Call me old-fashioned but a bit of armed robbery would be as far as I would want to go, if I were, in fact, that sort of person.’
‘You can confirm he’s involved with all those things?’ Gilchrist said.
‘You hadn’t noticed? Last time I heard he was planning to do the dirty on that film star lives next door to him – what’s her name? Unpronounceable first name, last name Grace. The one with the great body who’s also a bit of a culture vulture. When I say do the dirty, I don’t mean that kind of dirty – well, actually, that too, if he could. Can’t say I blame him. Sure your Stormy Daniels-type looks worth a go-around but there’s something about being with a beautiful woman with brains – well, as long as they shut up for the duration. There’s a time and a place, after all.’
‘What was the other kind of dirty he wanted to do?’ Gilchrist said calmly.
‘Force her out of her home, grab that lake and wood off her.’
‘How would he do that?’ Heap said.
‘Have we made the deal and I missed it?’ Goody said.
‘No, but we will,’ Gilchrist said. ‘You have my word.’ Goody just looked down at the table. ‘Any information about Said Farzi that is substantive will definitely make for a reduction of your sentence.’
He looked up. ‘You’re not in a position to make that deal, though.’
‘I’ll get somebody who is. Within the hour.’
‘Get me Bob Watts.’
Gilchrist frowned. ‘Bob Watts is no longer chief constable.’
‘I’m aware of that. But he’s police commissioner.’
‘Police commissioners have no operational input.’
‘I know that and I know they’ve become something of an expensive joke. Politics, eh? But I trust Bob Watts. Get me Bob Watts.’
Gilchrist texted Sylvia Wade to get hold of Watts and bring him to Lewes Prison. She showed Goody her phone. ‘Done. So are you saying Said Farzi is a criminal?’
Goody looked at her for a long time. ‘Hello?’ he said. ‘Time for you to wake up and smell the shit, Detective Inspector. When you look at what criminal slime the tide has washed up here in the past decade, hidden among all the good people who have immigrated, well, he’s the slimiest.’ He made a zipping mouth gesture. ‘But I won’t say any more until Bob gets here.’
‘Bob. You’re on first name terms?’ Goody gave a little smile and a sideways nod.
Gilchrist’s phone rang. ‘Sarah, it’s Bob. I got your message. I’m at Nimue’s. I’ll be there in ten minutes. But why do you want me?’
‘A prisoner called Graham Goody wants to see you to work out a deal.’
‘Graham? I’ll be there in five.’
Goody had clearly heard the Bob Watts end of the conversation. He mimed applause. ‘Nimue – that was the first name I was trying to remember of that movie star. He’s a sly one that Bob Watts. You’ve always got to watch the quiet ones, Detective Inspector.’
‘So I understand. While we’re waiting, perhaps you could say more about Said Farzi?’
Goody laughed. ‘I think you know better than that, Detective Inspector. I’m sorry – what was your name again? Forgive me, I see a beautiful woman in my current circumstances and any rational thought goes right out of the window.’
‘DI Gilchrist.’ She gestured to Heap. ‘And this is DS Heap.’
‘Bellamy – yes, I remember.’ Goody nodded to both of them. ‘Gusto. And I can see that it doesn’t matter how small DS Heap is – he has the stuff. I’d be wary of going up against him. A bit like Bob’s friend Jimmy Tingley.’
Gilchrist frowned. ‘You know Jimmy Tingley too?’
Goody gave a very wide smile. ‘Now then, DI Gilchrist, your first name wouldn’t be Sarah, by any chance?’ He glanced across at Heap. ‘Down, there, Detective Sergeant, your boss is safe.’ He looked back at Gilchrist. ‘He’s your Rottweiler, yes?’
‘He’s my colleague and my friend.’
‘Just as Bob Watts was your colleague – your boss, indeed – when you made the beast with two backs together at that infamous police conference.’
Heap was on his feet. Gilchrist coloured but held out a warning hand. Goody looked up at him. ‘I’m sorry, Detective Sergeant – and you too, Detective Inspector Sarah Gilchrist. I was trying to be witty in a worldly kind of way but I misjudged my audience. Please blame it on my low-life environment rather than entirely on me.
‘Round here, what I just said would be wittier than Oscar Wilde – supposing anyone here knew who Oscar Wilde was. Or, indeed, what Shakespeare play I was quoting.’ He looked at Heap. ‘Please sit down. I know you couldn’t do anything here to defend your boss without it wrecking your career. I wouldn’t want that. If you want to take a pop at me when I’m out I’ll be happy to oblige.’
Heap resumed his seat just as Bob Watts was ushered into the room.
‘Bobby Boy!’ Goody said, standing carefully.
Watts stayed by the door. ‘Graham.’ He turned to Gilchrist. ‘How can I help here, Detective Inspector?’
‘Bobby!
No need to be so formal – everyone in this room knows the shared history of you and the lovely detective inspector, also known as Sarah.’ Goody gestured around. ‘And what’s said in this room, stays in this room.’
Gilchrist flushed. ‘Mr Goody has knowledge pertaining to Said Farzi, a person of great interest in the ongoing investigations around the deaths in Plumpton and his cannabis estate. We’re willing to make a deal to reduce his sentence in return for useful information but he won’t take my word for that. Hence he asked for you.’
Watts nodded to her and turned to Goody. ‘You have my word, Graham.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Perhaps you should explain to DS Heap and DI Gilchrist how we know each other.’
‘Must I?’ Goody said.
‘Just to remind you … and me too.’
Goody sighed.
‘OK. Bob saved my life in Bosnia back in the nineties. Both of us in the military. I got surrounded by a gang of those fascist Serbian bastards. Bob rescued me.’ He showed his hands. ‘That was it.’
‘That wasn’t it,’ Watts said. ‘Captain Goody here was protecting a dozen Muslim women and children the Serbs were hell-bent on raping and killing – not necessarily in that order. He was doing a pretty good job too. Me and my men just happened along to mop up at the end.’
Heap looked at Goody. Goody caught the look. ‘I was just trying to get all of us out alive.’
Heap nodded. ‘I respect that. I was just wondering where you went so wrong.’
Goody looked at Watts but Watts’s face remained impassive. Goody raised an eyebrow at Heap. ‘Life can get really boring, you know. Bit of excitement never did anyone any harm.’
‘Except the people in the banks and post offices you scared the shit out of,’ Heap said.
‘Well, that would be true enough, young Detective Sergeant Bellamy Heap,’ Goody said. ‘But I imagine, if I had been involved, that for the rest of their lives these people have a story to tell. Probably the only story they have to tell.’
Watts stepped forward. ‘Time to tell us about Said Farzi, I think, Graham, as per the deal.’
‘Sure. How’s Jimmy, by the way?’
‘He’s being Jimmy.’
Goody smiled. ‘Send him my best.’
‘Will do. Said Farzi?’
‘Well, of course my information is about ten years out of date.’
‘You seem to be aware of his current movements from what you said earlier about Ms Grace,’ Gilchrist said.
‘Well, I may be within prison walls but they are pretty porous. Would that they were more so.’
‘Tell us about ten years ago.’
‘Ten years ago, Said was working for his father up in the Atlas Mountains. They were growing high-grade marijuana and had a whole distribution route worked out down through Spain. I was one of their distributors. Getting the stuff into Spain was so fucking easy it was ridiculous.’
‘Through Agadir port?’ Heap said. ‘Via Gibraltar?’
‘He does know a thing or two, this DS Heap,’ Goody said. ‘But, no, that isn’t as easy as it’s cracked up to be. I got it into Spain without it ever leaving the Moroccan mainland.’
‘Come again?’ Watts said.
‘You obviously don’t know your Morocco as well as I might have assumed, mate. Spain has two cities actually in Morocco – Ceuta and Melilla. On the North African coastline, surrounded by the rest of Morocco on every side, but free ports that are part of Spain and, therefore, the European Union. The euro is their currency. And both are about a hop and a skip from mainland Spain. Get the stuff into those city states and you’re in Europe. And there’s a casino in Ceuta if you want to wash the odd bit of money clean.’
‘And Said’s family got it into those cities for you?’ Heap said.
‘Well, we did that together. But Said was always nagging me for a job or for an opportunity to strike out on his own. And then he realized that it wasn’t just drugs you could get into Europe through Ceuta and Melilla. So he did strike out on his own, into people smuggling. This was before the whole refugee thing. He made it two-way traffic, importing kidnapped Eastern European white girls into Morocco and on to the brothels of the Middle East for who knows what kind of depravity? Not a nice man, you will have gathered.’
‘Go on,’ Gilchrist said.
‘After I was pinched I didn’t hear much about him for a couple of years then the next I hear, through these walls, is that his father is dead and he’s now running the drug operation. How his father died I have no idea. I’d like to think it was from natural causes but when I heard that Said was living in England, just down the road from this prison and had bought a farm, I wasn’t so sure.
‘I heard he had various income streams. He came to see me once – just the once – a couple of years ago. Which is how I know about Ms Grace. He wanted the same thing as you lot. Wanted to know if I had done the Hassocks blockade job and, if so, if he could help me sort the money. See, if I had done it, I’d know enough to partly pay off the gang with the untraceable money from the sorting office and the sub-post office but leave the bank money sitting somewhere until everything had quietened down.
‘What I wouldn’t know would be that I was going to be nicked for my tiny drug operation – tiny – pretty much a hobby, really. And that while I was inside, the Bank of Fucking England would replace the old Houblon £50 note with two new ones in succession. Then replace the £10 and £5 notes with fucking plastic – thereby giving a whole new meaning to laundering money since now you actually can.
‘They got it from the surf-loving Aussies, I’m sure you know, who first thought it would be a good idea to have waterproof notes for when you want to keep your money with you as you hit those waves. Doesn’t stop you and your money being chewed up by a shark, of course. In the water or on dry land, if you get my meaning.’
‘Not entirely,’ Gilchrist said.
‘Well, I know you folk are savvy so you don’t believe that old thing about “honour among thieves”. You’ll know it’s a total load of bollocks. The Great Train Robbers got royally screwed by everyone. The Krays, the Richardsons, every chancer in town wanted a piece of that pie. And got it. I read a book about it a few years ago by a writer, local to here funnily enough. The guy kept saying: “But the mystery is, what happened to all the money?” There’s no fucking mystery, excuse my continuing bad language. It’s obvious: other thieves took it off them. That’s what thieves do – they lie and cheat and, above all, steal. Off anybody. That’s how one of the Great Train Robbers ends up selling flowers on Waterloo Bridge. Not that that is exactly poverty row given the mark-ups on fresh flowers.’
‘Said Farzi came to see you,’ Gilchrist said. ‘When was this?’
‘Yeah, sorry, I’m rambling. Couple of years ago.’
‘Did he say what he was up to?’
‘As I said, he was into having it off with this actress then having it off with her property and land. He said he’d told her he’d buy her house off her but she could stay there for services rendered until he got bored with her – he didn’t say that last bit to her, of course.’
‘Did he say how she responded?’ Heap asked quietly.
‘I hear he didn’t get anywhere with any part of his plan,’ Goody said. ‘I imagine she told him to shove it up his arse. Do excuse my language, DI Gilchrist. It’s being stuck in here, you see.’ He turned to Watts. ‘But you’re obviously getting in there with the actress. Good for you.’
Watts looked puzzled for a moment then said: ‘It was a policing matter. You in touch with the boys in Henfield much?’ Goody shook his head.
‘What boys in Henfield?’ Gilchrist said.
‘For some obscure reason a whole gang of ex-SAS have settled in Henfield,’ Goody said. ‘Keep each other company, I suppose. They can talk about things they can’t talk about with anyone else.’
‘You were in the SAS?’ Gilchrist said.
Goody nodded. ‘Didn’t Bob already say that?’
<
br /> Gilchrist frowned. ‘I thought it was just regular army you were talking about. So that’s how you know Jimmy Tingley?’
‘Yeah – that’s how I know the Secret Fart.’ He saw Gilchrist’s look. ‘Silent but deadly, he was. Probably still is.’ He grinned. ‘We all had nicknames, darling. Do you want to know what Bob’s was?’
‘Is there anything more to tell us about Said Farzi?’ Watts said hastily. ‘Contacts here or in Morocco? The location of their plantations in Morocco?’
‘I think knowing the location of his drug plantations in Morocco would take even you way above your pay grade, Police Commissioner. If I were you, I’d focus on how he is finding a more efficient way to service the UK marijuana market.’ Goody smiled and looked down at the table. ‘Home grown is always best.’
‘Oh, we know about that,’ Gilchrist said. ‘We’ve already rolled that operation up. Do you know a Major Richard Rabbitt?’
‘Never met him but I hear he’s been murdered down at his lake,’ Goody said, keeping his eyes down.
‘He lives at Plumpton Down House. Do you know that?’
The corners of Goody’s mouth crinkled into a smile. ‘I’ve heard of it. And I read that too.’
‘Do you know Stephen Faber?’ Heap said, looking up from his iPad.
Goody looked across to the detective sergeant. ‘I’d rather not say.’
‘Does he favour red trousers?’ Heap said.
Goody laughed. ‘If I were to know him, I could imagine he might be the kind of person who would.’ He looked across at Watts. ‘I imagine him to be the kind of person who pretends to be a cut above what he is.’
‘Like the late Major Richard Rabbitt?’ Watts said.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Goody said. ‘As I indicated, I don’t know that man.’
‘Could you see such a man as Stephen Faber – if you knew him – being a killer for the sake of money?’ Heap said.
‘How have you come upon that name?’ Goody said.
Heap smiled. ‘As you indicated might have happened at the start of our conversation, this man escaped from Wandsworth Prison a few weeks ago, using a rope ladder dropped into the exercise yard from a drone. He got over the outer wall and dropped onto the roof of a waiting removals van.’
The Lady of the Lake Page 21
