Depth of Despair (20 page)

‘Wouldn’t it have been risky transferring the containers from the trawler to the helicopter if the weather was rough?’ Jackie suggested.

‘Not if they used a winch and a net.’

‘What made you think of that?’

‘I remembered a film I saw once. It showed how the mail train picked up post from beside the track. That gave me the idea.’

‘Sounds feasible. Do you think Wardle intended to escape that way? A container with organs inside is one thing but it would have been far riskier for a man.’ Clara objected.

‘I’m sure that’s what he had in mind. Remember Stella’s comment about wind speed? We couldn’t work out why it was important. Wind speed wouldn’t have made much difference to a light aircraft. But it would have been crucial to anyone parachuting from a plane towards a small target such as a fishing boat. You’d have to get that exactly right otherwise you’d finish up miles away. In the North Sea at this time of year you’d be dead from hypothermia before you were picked up.’

‘That wouldn’t explain how they got the children into the country. Or the drugs for that matter,’ Jackie objected.

‘One thing at a time. I’m going to have another word with Vatovec.’

‘We’ll go pick up the pilot. We’ll have a look round whilst we’re there. We might find something useful.’

‘Take a couple of uniforms. We’ve already seen how dangerous this lot can be.’

‘Vatovec, you were in charge of transportation,’ Nash accused him. ‘So tell me how you got the children into the country?’

‘It was easy. Wardle has business with man dealing in cattle. He has wagons bringing animals in, taking animals out of country. We make special compartment. Girls are given drugs so they will sleep all journey. They are hidden in special compartment. Customs have machine that senses body warmth but this will not work because of cattle. Children are small. There is room in compartment for drugs also.’

‘Thank you,’ Nash told him, ‘that’s what I wanted to know.’

He returned to the office and rang Clara’s mobile. ‘See if there are any wagons about. We’re talking cattle trucks. Check behind the driver’s compartment. You’re looking for something like a box bed, where the herdsman sleeps. That’s where the children and drugs were concealed.’

As he awaited their return, Nash spent time formulating his strategy for interviewing Butler, Wardle and Hill.

They reported back several hours later, their mission a complete success. The pilot and two henchmen had confessed. This was prompted by the discovery of several containers of heroin with a street value of millions of pounds. The pilot claimed this was being stored for Wardle. They also found three cattle trucks with hidden containers. Nash told them how he wanted to proceed. ‘I’m going to take Clara and Viv to the hospital,’ he told Fleming. ‘Will you take over with the IT people?’

Fleming looked disappointed, but agreed.

‘What’s your plan?’ Clara asked.

‘Wardle will be psyched up for this interrogation. He’ll have prepared his defences whilst he’s been lying there.’

‘How will you counter that?’

‘By doing what he least expects. He’s had no feedback. No contact with anybody.’

Wardle had been placed in a side room. Nash braced himself before opening the door. He banished all thought of Stella.

He marched across to Wardle’s bedside. Clara and Pearce followed, wondering what Nash had in mind. He didn’t sit down, which was their first surprise. ‘I understand you’ll be fit to leave in a couple of days. You’ll be moved to police cells. You’ll be put up at the first opportunity for a custody hearing and then CPS will take over. It’s customary at that stage to interview a suspect and take a
statement
. When that happens you’ll be entitled to legal representation.’

‘I have absolutely nothing to say,’ Wardle replied in a flat, calm voice.

‘Suits me,’ Nash sounded bored, disinterested. ‘I wasn’t about to talk to you. I’m too busy. If you change your mind, Detective Constable Pearce,’ Nash indicated Viv, ‘will conduct the interview. Come on, Sergeant,’ he beckoned Clara. ‘We’ve work to do.’

Clara followed him out of the room, mystified. ‘Don’t you think we should have pushed for a statement?’

‘Why waste our time? He’s got his guard up. He thinks we need information. He doesn’t know we’ve got Vatovec and the pilot’s confessions. He’s left wondering how much we know. By seeming unconcerned, we’ve turned the tables on him. Instead of us wanting information from him, he’s desperate for news about our case. He probably thinks all we’ve got is the business at the farm and some circumstantial evidence, but he’s not sure. It’s that
uncertainty
I’m building on.’

‘What was the idea of leaving Viv there?’

‘Viv’s the most junior officer we have, added to which he’s black. Wardle’s used to army disciplines, the hierarchy and attitudes. He sees a constable as no more than a private. To leave Wardle in the charge of someone he thinks of as a squaddie isn’t only an insult, it demonstrates how unimportant we think he is.’

‘Mind games,’ Clara nodded. ‘I like that. Have you something similar planned for Hill?’

‘That’s going to be different. When Hill’s interviewed I won’t even be present. I’m going to let you and Jackie have that pleasure. What’s more, you’ll be going in with a strictly prepared script.’

Clara groaned. ‘From mind games to amateur dramatics. Don’t tell me you’ll be giving acting lessons?’

‘Something of the sort,’ Nash smiled.

‘Let me into a secret. Why Jackie and me?’

‘Because you’re women. There’s nobody more sexist than a professional soldier and Hill would see that as an insult. He’ll also be aware how much more personally women take the sort of crimes he’s responsible for. If I’d been guilty of half the offences Hill has committed I wouldn’t want to be left alone with a couple of women. Didn’t you see what Vatovec was like when Zena confronted him?’

‘Have you been reading books on psychology or have you been on a course?’

Nash smiled. ‘Neither, but I’m willing to have a bet with you. Within forty-eight hours we’ll get a visit from Wardle’s solicitor demanding to know what evidence we have.’

‘Will you give him it?’

‘Legally I can’t deny him access to it. But I’ll go further than that. I’ll be so cooperative he’ll wonder what I’m up to. Which is exactly what I want. I’ll give him chapter and verse about what happened at Howlingales Farm. I’ll give him a detailed account of what we found at the clinic. Then I’ll hand him copies of the statements from Vatovec and that pilot.

‘Here’s the brief for your interview with Hill. I want you to tell him it doesn’t matter whether he talks or not. We’ve got him without a confession. You can say I couldn’t spare the time to
interview
him. Quote me as saying “It isn’t necessary, so why bother”.’

Less than twenty-four hours later Nash would have been able to claim his winnings. Wardle’s solicitor arrived ready to argue for what the police had against his client. When he left, he looked shaken and more than a little puzzled. An hour and a half after his departure Nash had a phone call from Pearce. ‘Wardle wants to make a statement,’ Viv told him. ‘What do you want me to do? Shall I wait until you arrive?’

‘No Viv; I want you to take a statement, and Viv …’

‘Yes, Mike?’

‘Continue to act as if it doesn’t matter. We’ve got all the evidence we need against Wardle and Hill. Anything they tell us will be a bonus.’

Hill was a slightly tougher nut to crack. But after two sessions with Jackie and Clara, at the second of which he was shown Wardle’s confession, he too made a statement.

During their next update Pratt asked, ‘What are you intending to do about Butler?’

‘I think we should be able to crack him,’ Nash assured him. ‘Particularly in view of the video. It identifies Butler clearly by the insignia and name on the uniform.’

‘We can’t be certain that’ll give us anything more than Butler’s part in the organ trade,’ Clara pointed out.

‘I’m not so sure,’ Nash contradicted her. ‘I reckon Butler would be a prime customer for child prostitutes. The video proves he’s a paedophile. I can’t see the leopard changing his spots.’

‘We’ve still nothing to prove he was involved in under-age sex in this country.’

‘I realize that and I’m not sure how we can get proof.’

The meeting was interrupted by the phone. Nash picked up the receiver. He listened for a few minutes, his smile widening. ‘Really?’ He said eventually. ‘You’re absolutely sure? There’s no chance of an error?’

He put the phone down and looked round. He grinned. ‘It’s not my birthday for several months,’ he told them. ‘But I’ve just been given the best possible present.’

Nash explained what he’d been told. ‘I vote we act straightaway. We’ll talk to Butler. It’s just a question of who to take in to that interview.’

‘Who do you suggest?’

‘Clara and Zena, I think,’ Nash replied.

‘I’ll go along with that,’ Pratt agreed.

As the meeting broke up, Fleming stopped Nash. ‘Have you heard about Armistead?’

Nash shook his head. ‘He’s been suspended. I heard from the office an hour ago. An ACC has been drafted in to handle Armistead’s work on a temporary basis. An internal enquiry team will be put together over the next few days. They’ll want to
interview
everyone involved,’ she took a deep breath. ‘Apparently I was scheduled for suspension but the acting chief had a word with Tom Pratt and he blocked it.’

Butler was accompanied by his solicitor, a thin-faced, middle-aged man with a morose expression. It was the lawyer who took control of the start of the interview. He leaned forward and spoke to Nash, ignoring both women. Throughout the lawyer’s speech his client avoided eye contact with everyone by staring down at his hands, which were clasped nervously in his lap.

‘My client wishes me to place on record,’ the lawyer began, ‘that he admits having conducted organ removal and transplant
operations
in contravention of government regulations. He wishes to assure everyone that the operations were his only involvement. Moreover, my client will admit that the reason for his involvement was because he was blackmailed over some alleged minor
misdemeanour
supposedly committed when he was in Her Majesty’s Forces. He wishes to add that his fear of the man Hill, who he knows to be extremely violent, was also responsible for his agreement to conduct the operations.

‘My client has no knowledge of the origins of the donors, nor of the circumstances surrounding their decease. He’s prepared to answer questions relating to the operations but will categorically refuse to comment on any other subject.’

The solicitor leaned back and waited for Nash to begin, no doubt having rehearsed the line they would take with his client.

Nash knew he had to drive a wedge between solicitor and client. ‘I think we’ll start with the video. Zena, as you and Clara have seen this perhaps you wouldn’t mind standing behind the TV. There isn’t much room in here and I want to be sure Mr Butler and his lawyer can see everything.’

Any doubt as to whether Butler knew what was on the film
vanished with the first frame. He took one look then his eyes dropped to the table. ‘Watch the TV, Mr Butler,’ Nash instructed.

Butler didn’t want to watch. That was clear. He’d have given anything rather than have to sit in that room. With Nash’s
insistence
and his solicitor’s ever more curious gaze on him he’d no alternative.

Nash didn’t watch it. He’d seen it once, and once was more than enough. Instead, he concentrated his attention on Butler and his lawyer. As the video ran its course he saw the growing look of
revulsion
on the solicitor’s face. There was a long and painful silence when the film ended. Nash nodded to Clara, who switched the TV off.

‘That was you in the video, Mr Butler?’ Nash asked the question ever so gently.

Butler didn’t reply. Nash transferred his attention to the lawyer. ‘Some minor misdemeanour,’ he said, sarcasm crackling in his voice. ‘If you class the rape of a child of no more than ten or eleven years old, and the murder of that child and her mother as a minor misdemeanour, I’d be interested to hear what you regard as a serious crime?’

The lawyer shuffled defensively. ‘I had no prior knowledge of the contents of that video,’ he protested weakly. ‘I’d like to consult with my client.’

Nash signalled to Clara, who delivered the interview
termination
message before switching the recorder off. The detectives filed out.

‘I can’t believe Butler hadn’t told his lawyer about that film,’ Clara said as they waited.

‘Would you? Butler didn’t know we had it. He probably hoped Hill or Wardle had secreted it somewhere safe.’

‘That’s right,’ Zena agreed. ‘When you mentioned the video Butler went as white as a sheet.’

‘He’ll be hearing some fairly unpalatable advice right now.’

Zena realized what Nash was referring to. ‘That’s why you wanted me in the room, for the benefit of the lawyer. He’s probably telling Butler he’s likely to be subject to extradition.’

‘Will you apply for it?’ Clara asked.

‘Not my decision. They will only make such a request if they think it’s likely to be granted. What are the chances, Mikhail?’

‘I’d start preparing the paperwork now. I won’t oppose it, and I can’t imagine anyone else doing so.’

Butler’s solicitor appeared at the door and signalled they were ready. Once the tape was running he told them, ‘I’ve advised my client to answer your questions as truthfully as possible. I warn you, he still maintains he’d no knowledge of anything apart from the transplants. If you intend to ask questions on such subjects, be careful how they’re phrased.’

‘If Mr Butler is prepared to answer our questions truthfully that’s a step in the right direction.’

Zena looked perplexed, and vaguely disappointed. Clara braced herself for the storm that was about to be unleashed. If things had been different Clara might have felt sympathy for Nash’s victim, but remembering what was on the video ruled that out. She smiled reassuringly at Zena.

‘What your solicitor said implies that what we saw on the film was an aberration, an isolated incident, never to be repeated. Is that so?’

‘That’s correct,’ Butler replied, eager now.

‘And you know nothing about the victims,’ Nash saw the lawyer’s head come up like a striking rattlesnake. ‘Sorry, the donors who were brought to your hospital, on to your operating table? Is that also correct?’

‘It is. I knew nothing about them.’ Zena and Clara could see Butler relaxing as he answered each question easily.

‘You’ve no idea where they came from?’

‘None whatsoever.’

‘Can you explain how they finished up in those tarns?’

‘No. Hill brought them to the hospital. I removed their organs. Then he collected them and that was it. I’d no idea how he disposed of them.’

‘You didn’t know any of them?’

‘No, I’ve already said that.’

‘You have indeed, Mr Butler. I just wanted to be absolutely certain you’d never seen any of them in your life. That they were completely unknown to you. Can you give me such an assurance?’

‘I can. I’d never seen or known any of them before.’

‘My client has answered that question more than once,
Superintendent,’ the solicitor frowned. ‘I think you should move on.’

‘I’ve a problem with that, to be fair,’ Nash scratched his chin reflectively. ‘I agree your client has answered the question several times, but a few minutes ago you told me he’d agreed to answer truthfully.’

Nash turned back to Butler. ‘So, I’m going to ask you one last time, Mr Butler, did you know or had you met any of those victims before they appeared on your operating table?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Butler said flatly.

Nash’s tone reverted to conversational. ‘Tell me something, Mr Butler, do you know what DNA is?’

‘Of course,’ Butler’s confidence had grown so rapidly he could manage some level of scorn. ‘I’m a surgeon. DNA is part of my daily life.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot,’ Nash was almost humble. ‘Please forgive me for asking but I’m a layman and these complicated medical terms baffle me. Let me ask you this, Mr Butler. Is it possible to determine the parentage of a child from that child’s bones?’

‘Naturally,’ Butler said. ‘That’s easy to do.’

‘Even from an unborn child, a foetus say?’

‘Still perfectly possible.’

‘That’s most interesting, Mr Butler. Thank you for your
guidance
.’ Butler bowed his head gracefully. Nash stood up as if to leave. Then, almost as an afterthought he turned and placed his hands against the edges of the table. He leaned forward until his face was only inches from Butler’s and stared remorselessly into the surgeon’s eyes.

‘One more question, Mr Butler, bearing in mind that you’ve just informed us not once but several times that all the victims were completely unknown to you. Can you explain how the DNA extracted from a foetal bone removed from one of the corpses indicates that you were the father of the child the victim was carrying?’

Butler began to crumble. Throughout Nash’s verbal onslaught, Butler’s solicitor sat in uncomfortable silence, aware that he should be raising objections but with little enthusiasm for such an
intervention
.

‘You’ve lied all the way through. First you lied about being a rapist and a murderer. Then you lied by saying your involvement was limited to the organ removals. Next you lied about not knowing how the victims died. You’re a surgeon, Butler. You’d have to know. You’d have to test them to ensure they weren’t carrying any infection that would have rendered their organs
unusable
; or should I say unsaleable? You’d have to keep them on life support whilst you carried out the extractions. So all that business about not knowing how they died was another lie.

‘Then there was your last lie. The biggest and worst lie. You lied about knowing the identity of any of the victims. You lied about having met any of them, when all along one of them was carrying your child. Did you know the girl was pregnant? Don’t answer; it’ll probably be another lie.

‘You’ve portrayed yourself as an upright citizen, a distinguished surgeon, the owner of a prestigious clinic, but that was all a sham. Your whole life is a lie from start to finish, isn’t it, Butler? I intend to see those lies exposed. I intend to have your whole façade torn down and expose you for the world to see the putrid, stinking, rottenness within. Your career is over. The distinguished surgeon is a thing of the past. Where you’re going you won’t even be able to cut your fingernails unsupervised.’ Nash paused and stood looking down at the wreck sitting before him.

‘Tell me something, Butler, do you like food? You look like a man who enjoys wining and dining. People imprisoned for offences such as yours are protected from other inmates. Unfortunately, that protection doesn’t extend to the kitchen. You’ll be in for some
interesting
meals, very interesting I can tell you. They prepare special menus for the likes of you. The prisoners in charge of the cooking take great delight in it, I’m told. Sometimes they piss on your food, sometimes they wank into it. They vary that with other ingredients, like shit, or powdered glass.

‘Prisons are fairly secure but we all know security can’t be
guaranteed
. Mistakes happen. They tend to happen when prison officers with young families are on duty. Most of the mistakes are put down to carelessness. The mistake gets a fair amount of publicity, in the tabloids particularly. Usually the headline reads something like sex pervert knifed. People read it. Law abiding
people who wouldn’t wish harm on anyone. They read it and think, “Oh good. He’s got what he deserves.”

‘These mistakes are rare but they do happen and sooner or later I reckon one will happen to you. They’ll take their eyes off you and next thing you know you’re in the prison hospital with a knife in your gut. You won’t be able to operate on yourself either. You’ll have to rely on some underpaid and overworked medic. I doubt you’ll get much sympathy from him.

‘Face it Butler. Your life is in ruins. You’re as good as dead already. What’s the term convicts use in America when a condemned man is on his way to the gas chamber? “Dead man walking”, that’s what they say. That’s what you are, Butler. You’re a dead man walking. The only difference is your death will be long, slow and, I hope, painful. So how about breaking the habit of a
lifetime
and telling the truth?’

There was a long silence after Nash finished. He stared at Butler, his expression a pitiless glare. Zena looked at Nash and shuddered. All trace of the gentle compassionate nature that had marked his dealings with Milla, the tenderness that had impressed Zena, had vanished as if it never existed.

Eventually, the lawyer felt the need to break the silence which had become charged and oppressive. He looked at Butler, who was staring at the floor, at his hands, at the table, anything to avoid Nash’s gaze. ‘I have to advise you, Butler, to cooperate fully and answer Superintendent Nash’s questions truthfully,’ he told his client.

Even his solicitor had dropped the prefix ‘Mister’. It was a measure of how far the surgeon had fallen. In the space of the
interview
he’d ceased to attract the slightest particle of respect. They might as well have issued him with a prison number already.

Nash sat down again, leaning back on his chair. ‘Well?’ The
question
was delivered like a whiplash.

Butler flinched, cleared his throat and licked his lips. When he spoke his voice was barely above a whisper. Even in the confines of the small room his listeners had to strain to catch what he said. ‘I’ll tell you all I know. But I don’t know everything. Only the part that involved me.’