Hitmen (2 page)

A few days later, London detectives confronted Ngarimu in New Zealand but she denied all knowledge of the killing. She even looked the officers in the eye and told them she couldn’t have carried out such a shooting because she was a vegetarian and ‘could not even kill a chicken’. After three visits to her home, the detectives travelled back to London
empty-handed
. They did not have enough evidence to charge Sparky.

But a few days after that visit by British police, Sparky found herself walking past a church in New Zealand and felt herself drawn inside. There she began having second thoughts about what she’d done. Shortly afterwards, her sister gave her a Bible which she read over the following two weeks. Afterwards, she announced to friends that she’d ‘found the Lord’. She also felt increasingly guilty about killing Graeme Woodhatch. 

Sparky then got a call from her local police to say that Keith Bridges and Paul Tubbs had been charged in connection with the Woodhatch murder back in London. That development had a profound effect on Sparky. Within hours she’d called the police back and agreed to return voluntarily to London to face murder charges. As the prosecutor of the case later explained: ‘It was a matter of conscience and living with her actions. It is an unusual situation for a murderer to return from abroad, to acknowledge her responsibility and guilt, to co-operate and be prepared to give evidence. She was at the very heart of the conspiracy.’

Sparky was officially arrested when her plane from New Zealand touched down at Gatwick Airport and she was charged with murder later that evening at a north London police station. Newspapers labelled her Britain’s first female contract killer. At Sparky’s first court appearance in front of Hampstead magistrates in north London she was tense, distraught and full of remorse.

Paul Tubbs and Keith Bridges were unaware that Sparky’s conscience and conversion to God had influenced her decision to plead guilty to the Woodhatch murder and turn Queen’s evidence against the men who hired her.

In May 1994, Sparky appeared at the Old Bailey and pleaded guilty to murdering Graeme Woodhatch. Oliver Blunt, QC, told the court that Sparky’s conversion to Christianity was complete and she was even attending Bible classes three times a week at Holloway Prison as well as attending church services every Sunday. She was also teaching autistic children in the prison gym. Blunt told the
Old Bailey: ‘She knows that beyond my Lord’s sentence, she faces the judgements of her Lord.’

Recorder of London, Lawrence Verney, told Sparky: ‘You have pleaded guilty to the most terrible offence that can be committed, the taking of the life of a fellow human being in circumstances which are a disgrace to you. The obvious motive was the payment of money and the act was carried out in cold blood.’ He then sentenced her to life in prison.

The judge said he would normally make a recommendation that ‘someone employed to kill’ should serve a minimum sentence in excess of 20 years. However, because Sparky had given evidence against the two men behind the murder, he would be more lenient, he said. He even acknowledged that Sparky had turned over a new leaf and would not be carrying out any more hits. He said, ‘I am satisfied that you are not a professional killer. You have expressed deep remorse and I accept that, but it is not a fact which can have very much influence on my recommendation to the Home Secretary [regarding the sentence].’

Later that same month – May 1994 – the trial of Bridges and Tubbs was delayed after Bridges was mysteriously shot in the chest while out on bail. As a result, he was left disabled with a partially paralysed arm. His lawyer told the court that Bridges had been the target of an assassination attempt.

The trial of the two men finally went ahead in December 1994 and, on 17 December, a jury at the Old Bailey found Bridges and Tubbs guilty of conspiracy to murder. Both showed little emotion as the jury delivered their verdict, following a deliberation of more than 12 hours. Each man was given a life sentence. Recorder of London, Sir Lawrence
Verney, recommended that Bridges should serve a minimum of 15 years and Tubbs a minimum of 16. Both men had earlier admitted to perverting the course of justice by disposing of the gun Sparky used for the hit and were given three-year sentences to run concurrently with their life sentences.

‘
B
ig Al’ Decabral squeezed his 22-stone frame into the driver’s seat of his son’s Peugeot with great difficulty. He was more used to touring his manor in his own vintage Jag – once owned by Reggie Kray – or his even bigger
Rolls-Royce
. He didn’t even notice the car pulling up alongside him as he checked the time – 1.37pm – on his gold Rolex in the car park of a Halfords store in Ashford, Kent. So when the driver aimed a gun at him he only had time to mutter the words, ‘Please don’t shoot me,’ before two shots rang out and 40-year-old Decabral’s vast body slumped against the Peugeot’s steering wheel.

Shoppers at the nearby Sainsbury’s and Curry’s fled as the killer ran off. Seconds later Decabral’s 20-year-old son walked out of Halfords to find his father dead. He collapsed to the floor sobbing, ‘My dad’s dead, my dad’s dead.’
Welcome to Kent – the Garden of England – on Thursday, 5 October 2000. Just beyond Halfords were rolling fields of golden corn, converted millhouses and luscious green pastures. It’s supposed to be the ideal of what the countryside should be: peaceful, winding country lanes filled with modest folk minding their own business, motivated by a love of gardening; certainly nothing as vulgar as money or hitmen. But lurking in among the unprepossessing villages of Kent are many of the major names in the British underworld and Big Al Decabral had just paid the ultimate price for daring to take on the big boys.

One of the few witnesses to the Decabral killing was
26-year
-old Anton Kaye, deputy manager of the nearby Curry’s store at the same shopping centre. He said, ‘He [Big Al] was sat with his head slumped slightly to the right on the wheel. He was wearing sunglasses and looked about 50. There were no doors open and no signs of broken glass, so the killer obviously got up pretty close to him.’

Within seven minutes of the killing, police were examining a silver, H-reg Mercedes parked 35 yards from the dead man’s car, which they believed belonged to the hitman. Police cordoned off the murder scene and the surrounding area as forensic teams searched for clues. Officers did not let anyone leave the busy retail park and then announced: ‘We’re hunting a man who was seen running from the scene wearing a light green jacket and is described as being in his early twenties. We are appealing for shoppers who may have visited the retail park to contact us.’

Big Al’s former wife told reporters: ‘I’m devastated. I just feel numb with shock.’

The truth was that heavyweight ‘entrepreneur’ Alan Decabral knew his days were numbered. Just three months earlier, the father-of-three had given evidence at a
high-profile
Old Bailey trial about how he’d seen so-called master criminal Kenneth Noye stabbing a motorist called Stephen Cameron during a road-rage incident on the M25 in 1996. Whether that decision sealed his fate we’ll probably never know, but it’s worth considering.

Even Big Al admitted that the moment Noye’s name came into the frame for the Cameron killing he was warned not to give evidence against him. Decabral’s name was even mysteriously leaked to the press before the trial. Kent Police told Decabral that a civilian in the typing pool at their headquarters had sold the information to a newspaper. Shortly afterwards, it was even alleged that Decabral was contacted by one of Kenny Noye’s numerous associates and warned that his decision to help police could cost him dearly.

At a meeting a couple of days after his name was blasted across the newspapers, it was even alleged that Decabral was told: ‘Either shut up or you’ll be permanently silenced.’

Decabral later said defiantly, ‘I don’t like being told what to do. I’m very stubborn when pushed. I don’t like being ordered around.’

A week after that incident, Decabral found three bullets lying on the hall carpet of his home. He later explained: ‘Somebody was telling me not to testify. I was a bit freaked out by it.’ But he didn’t tell police what had happened.

Before giving evidence against Kenny Noye at the Old Bailey in the summer of 2000, Decabral was snubbed by numerous old friends and associates in Kent. ‘I’d go into a pub I’d been
going in for years and people would shuffle away from me. Then I’d shout at them, “I’m doing this for the right reasons.”’

But then Kenny Noye was – and still is – one of the richest and most powerful criminals in Britain. Handling the proceeds of huge drug deals and bank robberies has helped make him tens of millions of pounds. He’s a member of that exclusive gentlemen gangsters’ club: the Brinks-Mat team. That legendary robbery at Heathrow Airport in 1983 has linked many of Britain’s most powerful criminals.

When Kenny Noye appeared at the Old Bailey in the summer of 2000, after he had pulled a knife out from under the front seat of his car and killed motorist Stephen Cameron on the M25 roundabout, he claimed he was simply defending himself. Then Big Al Decabral told the court he saw Noye commit the murder. Noye stared intently at the overweight, unhealthy-looking Decabral as he struggled with his massive frame into the witness box.

He told the Old Bailey how he saw Noye’s knife: ‘I saw a flash. I could see the sun glinting off the blade.’ Then he told the court: ‘As he [Noye] went past my car he just nodded at me and the expression was as if to say: “That’s sorted him out” or “You’ve got yours, mate.”’

Minutes later there were gasps of surprise in the Old Bailey when a tape of a 999 call Decabral made after seeing the killing was played. It featured clear references to Decabral’s work and home telephone numbers as well as his home address for anyone to note down. Many believe that is when the clock really started ticking for the countdown to the end of Big Al’s life.

The Old Bailey jury eventually found Noye guilty of murder by a verdict of 11–1. Lord Chief Justice Latham told Noye: ‘The jury having found you guilty of murder, there is only one sentence I can impose and that is one of life imprisonment.’

After the trial, Big Al admitted to one friend, ‘Seeing Stephen’s murder changed things. I thought, What if it had been my son? I got told by lots of people, “You shouldn’t say anything. It’s Kenny Noye.” But that doesn’t change things. I am no angel but I do have certain standards. I did what I thought was best. The consequences have been worse than I’d ever imagined, but I would still do it again.’

Cut to three months later and Big Al is lying dead in a car park.

Within 24 hours of the Decabral hit, Kenny Noye was telling associates he was furious that his name had been linked to the killing. Detectives insisted they had no clear idea of the identity of the killer or who might have commissioned the hit. From his cell in Whitemoor Prison, Cambridgeshire, Noye implied that the claims were a deliberate slur to try and damage his attempts to appeal against his sentence. Kent’s Detective Inspector Bob Nelson told journalists: ‘The more we investigate this crime, the more complicated it becomes. The public and the media should not jump to conclusions.’

Incarcerated Kenny Noye insisted on seeing his two sons Kevin and Brett, plus his loyal long-time lawyer Henry Milner, to discuss how best to respond to the numerous newspaper stories linking him to the killing. Meanwhile all the other important witnesses who gave evidence against Noye at his
trial were offered tighter police protection just in case they were in danger.

To this day, Noye remains in a special secure unit and is categorised as ‘an exceptionally high-risk Category A’ inmate. He’s considered to have the financial and logistical means to mount an escape bid. Prison Service sources insist that to date Noye has been a model prisoner. He is not allowed to leave the unit to mix with other inmates or to use other facilities, including workshops and education classes. On every visit by friends and family he’s separated from them by bullet-proof glass.

There is absolutely no concrete evidence linking Kenny Noye to the hitman killing of Big Al Decabral on 5 October 2000. But many had told Decabral to expect the worst and ‘watch yer back’. Despite that, Big Al even turned down full police protection because he knew he’d never be able to continue his own criminal activities with police officers constantly looking over his shoulder.

Yet Big Al knew his life was at risk from the moment he appeared in the witness stand at the Old Bailey. He even admitted to one friend: ‘I look over my shoulder every time I go to Sainsbury’s.’

Eight weeks before he was killed, he received a series of new telephone death threats but police failed to establish a link between those threats and Kenny Noye. And one Kent detective described Decabral thus: ‘This guy wasn’t Mother Theresa, there were any number of people who had a grudge against him.’ Others let it be known that Big Alan Decabral had links with numerous criminal activities including drug deals, gun-running and smuggling. ‘He mixed with a lot of
unsavoury people, any one of whom might have wanted him out of the way,’ said another police source at the time.

After his death, Big Al’s ex-wife Marie even backed the police claims by insisting Noye ‘had nothing to do with it. Alan had so many enemies it could be any number of people. Somebody else has finished him off.’ Marie and the couple’s two children Charlotte, 12, and Dean, 8, stood to inherit the bulk of Decabral’s supposed £6 million fortune, which included 14 luxury cars, motorbikes, jewellery and furniture as well as properties in Marbella and Pluckeley, in Kent.

Ex-wife Marie then publicly announced she was prepared to give evidence on Noye’s behalf at his appeal saying that her husband had lied in court. She told one newspaper that Decabral had ‘embellished’ his story in a bid to stop police investigating his own criminal activities. ‘I know people will hate me for saying this but everyone deserves the right to a fair trial – even Kenneth Noye,’ said Marie. ‘I believe he did wrong and should be in prison for killing that poor boy Stephen Cameron but I don’t think it was premeditated. I don’t think he got out of the car thinking, I am going to murder him.’

At the time of Noye’s Old Bailey trial, Decabral had told the court he followed Noye in his Rolls-Royce as he fled the murder scene, and even wrote down Noye’s registration number. ‘That was rubbish,’ said Marie. ‘He was driving away from the scene because he didn’t want to be stopped by police. Alan had been on his way to Lewes, East Sussex, to drop off a consignment of cocaine. He told me he used the car chase as an excuse because he feared being arrested.’

Marie also said that Decabral lied at Noye’s trial when he
claimed he was only a ‘recreational’ user of drugs. She said, ‘He was a big-time dealer and his use of cocaine got so bad that he had nose bleeds all the time.’ Marie then revealed that just two days after Decabral had given a full interview to one British newspaper following the Noye trial, she received a chilling phone call from her estranged husband.

‘I was outside my son’s school waiting to pick him up when the mobile phone rang, and it was Alan. I said, “What are you playing at?” And he said, “I can kill you now, bitch. Everybody will think it’s Kenny Noye.”’ Marie Decabral then wrote a letter to Kenny Noye in Whitemoor Prison. ‘I wanted Noye to know the truth,’ she said. ‘But I also reasoned that if he needed my help he would not hurt us.’ Two weeks later, on 3 August 1990, Marie took a call on her mobile phone. ‘Hi, I’m Kevin Noye, Kenny’s son,’ said a male voice.

‘I nearly dropped the phone,’ Marie later recalled. They arranged to meet 30 minutes later outside a McDonalds in Eltham, south-east London. ‘I was so nervous that Kevin said he could tell it was me from 20 yards away. We sat in his car and he asked me what information I had and why I wrote to his dad. I told him that Alan had lied under oath and he asked if I could prove this. I said, “Yes.”’ Marie claimed she also told Kenny Noye’s 30-year-old son that she was ‘very scared’ of his father. He responded, ‘Why would my father want to harm you?’

Meanwhile the trail for Decabral’s killers went totally cold. An inquest into his murder the following summer of 2001 returned a verdict of unlawful killing. As Detective Chief Inspector Bob Nelson said at the time, ‘We have failed to accumulate enough evidence to get the perpetrator.’

But the legend of master criminal Kenny Noye continues. There were even rumours that he was innocent of the
road-rage
murder of young motorist Stephen Cameron. Others say he’s so well connected with detectives in south-east London and Kent that he helped to get the Stephen Lawrence suspects out of police custody after making one phone call.

But the gunning down of Big Al Decabral in broad daylight in Kent by that lone shootist sent shockwaves through the south-east London underworld and police. Noye has friends and enemies on both sides of the fence, and most were asking how Decabral could have been presented at the Old Bailey as the prosecution’s star witness in the murder trial of Kenneth Noye.

Noye’s world is filled with death, drugs, robbery and gold bullion. Yet he has spent much of his time living openly in palatial splendour, right slap-bang in the middle of Kent. But the death of seedy, obese Big Al provoked a minefield of questions – some of which might end up helping Noye win his appeal against his life sentence for the murder of motorist Stephen Cameron.

The key to Big Al’s assasination probably lies in a vast area of Kent countryside stretching from Noye’s favourite village of West Kingsdown past Biggin Hill – and its handy airstrip – across to Swanley. It’s known to Kent detectives and villains as ‘The Bermuda Triangle’. As one senior police officer explained: ‘Things that go in there have a habit of never coming out again. And we’re talking about everything from people to lorryloads of bootlegged fags ’n’ booze.’

The construction of the nearby M25 has meant easy access to the Bermuda Triangle at all times of the day and night. And
it was on the Swanley intersection of the M25 that Alan Decabral insisted he saw Kenneth Noye kill Stephen Cameron in May 1996. One Kent detective summed up the police attitude when he told me: ‘I can guarantee that if there were 20 vehicles on that M25 roundabout at the time of the Cameron killing then at least five of those drivers would be known to us as villains.’