Henry began to grow tense. He wasn’t sure how he’d react if Hinksman was found not guilty of the charges he had brought against him.
Manslaughter verdicts were brought for the killings of the police officers who had raided Pepe Paglia’s guest-house to arrest Hinksman.
A stony silence greeted these verdicts.
He was found not guilty of the murder of Pepe Paglia.
That drew a gasp of disbelief.
He was also found not guilty of the murder of the arms dealer in Rossendale.
A few shrugs went round the court. That had been half-expected, but was a disappointment nevertheless.
Then, much to Henry’s relief, he was found guilty of all the murders in the alley.
A roar of approval went up from the court. Donaldson, next to Henry, patted his knee.
It took the Judge a few minutes to bring order to the courtroom. She was clearly annoyed at the disruption.
The foreperson resumed and found Hinksman guilty of the manslaughter of the woman on the promenade who had unfortunately stepped into the line of fire between Henry and Hinksman.
Hinksman had also been charged with numerous firearms and explosives offences, most of which were proved.
He was going to go to prison for a very long time.
The foreperson sat down, relieved to have done her duty in the spotlight. She looked like she was having a hot flush.
Hinksman stared over at Henry and shook his head sadly.
Then the Judge said, in her most authoritative tone, ‘The accused will stand.’
Hinksman didn’t move. He looked at the vaulted ceiling and whistled. It was something the Judge had been counting on. ‘Officers,’ she said to his guards, ‘bring the prisoner to his feet.’
Henry whispered to Donaldson, ‘The administration of justice is a wonderful thing, don’t you agree?’
‘ Sure do,’ said Donaldson. They shook hands.
Karen, who had heard the remark, leaned across Donaldson and said, ‘There’s more justice to be administered yet.’
‘ What do you mean?’ asked Henry.
She tapped her nose. ‘Wait and see.’
They looked to the front of the court as the Judge began to comment on the case and then to pass sentence.
‘ It’s over,’ Henry said down the phone to Kate.
‘ I’m glad,’ she said.
‘ Life sentences. Judge recommended that he never be released.
And on top of it, two months for contempt of court for some of the gestures he made during the trial. It was highly amusing. And the Judge commended me for bravery — and others. She said some good things.’
‘ So what happens now?’
‘ Well, he gets taken to Strangeways and we’re all going for a knees-up.’
‘ I didn’t quite mean that.’
‘ Oh.’
There was a sudden silence as if the line had gone dead, as if someone had pulled the plug.
‘ You still there?’ Kate asked.
‘ Yeah,’ he gulped nervously. ‘How’re the girls?’
‘ Fine. They’ll see you at the weekend.’
‘ Excellent. Good. Look… er, did you mean what happens next to us?’
‘ That’s exactly what I meant.’
‘ I do love you, y’know.’
‘ Do you?’ she sighed.
‘ Yes. And I miss you like mad. And I need you.’
‘ I love you too, Henry.’
‘ Can I come home?’
‘ We need to talk about it. I’m still not sure. I need some reassurances, some promises. You hurt me very badly. All my faith was rocked when you betrayed me. Everything I valued counted for nothing. I want you to come home, but I am frightened by the prospect.’
‘ Me too,’ he admitted. ‘I’m sorry… Look, I’m having a day off tomorrow. Perhaps I could come round in the evening; we could talk then.’
‘ The girls would be in the way. I have a better idea.’
‘ Go on.’
‘ I’ll take a day off too. Then we’ll have all day to chat, see how we feel, what we can resolve.’
Henry’s heart leapt.
‘ Yeah, yeah, good idea,’ he said eagerly. ‘What time should I come round?’
‘ Ten?’
‘ I’ll be there.’
The pips started to go.
‘ I love you, Kate,’ he managed to say before the line went dead. He hung the receiver up slowly with a wide smile on his face, juxtaposed with a feeling of trepidation in his guts. At last, he said to himself. At last.
As he turned away from the payphone which was in the Crown Court building, he bumped into Lisa Want who was standing directly behind him. His smile dropped; his face became a mask of contempt. He tried to shoulder past her but she stood her ground.
‘ Look, I’d like to say I’m sorry,’ she told him. ‘I heard you giving evidence — I hadn’t realised what you’d been through, OK?’
He snorted in disbelief. ‘I have no doubt in my mind that you do not have a conscience, and if you ever get the opportunity to shaft someone, you’d do the same thing all over again. Goodbye, Miss Sleaze-bag.’ And he edged carefully around her, as if to avoid contamination, and strode towards the exit.
‘ Ungrateful son of a bitch!’ she uttered, and stamped her feet angrily like a child.
Outside the court building the victorious team of detectives, including FB, but not Donaldson and Karen, were waiting for Henry. They cheered as he appeared. He modestly acknowledged this with a bow, then they all moved off towards the city centre, where it was their intention to take over a pub and get riotously pissed out of their heads.
Just as they reached the prison gates, they encountered a crowd of journalists and sightseers. A buzz of expectation went through them as the prison gates were flung open and the convoy taking Hinksman to Strangeways roared out and sped down the hill.
Some of the detectives gesticulated rudely at the rear of the prison bus.
Henry merely stood there, hands thrust deep in his pockets, staring at the back window. He was sure that Hinksman would be looking at him through the one-way glass. He allowed himself another smile and thought, Goodbye, you bastard. I hope you rot in hell.
Henry had probably smiled more times that day than on any other in the last six months.
The bus and escort were out of sight within seconds, the sirens accompanying them becoming less distinct.
Henry then shivered with a sense of foreboding. Something was wrong. His smile dropped. What was it? He looked up into the sky. The force helicopter clattered overhead, moving with the convoy.
The gang of detectives surged down the road. Henry caught up with them and tapped FB on the shoulder.
‘ Boss?’
‘ Henry, what is it?’
‘ Er… nothing, I hope. It’s just… I’ve suddenly had a very bad feeling. ‘
‘ You’ll be all right,’ said FB, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘C’mon, you just need a drink inside you. There’s a lot to celebrate.’
‘ Yeah, sure,’ said Henry. But as much as he tried, he couldn’t rid himself of that feeling of impending doom.
Lisa Want watched the detectives strut down the hill like a group of lager louts. She was utterly furious with Henry: it was the first time ever that she’d apologised to anyone for a piece she’d written, and the last.
But she did have to admit that the guy was right: she would do it again. It was in her blood.
A nondescript man approached her.
‘ Lisa Want?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘This is for you.’ He handed her a package; she noticed that he was wearing gloves. ‘The man in it is the Chief Constable of Lancashire. The woman is a hooker. You don’t need to know her name.’
Then he was gone, leaving Lisa holding the tape.
The police convoy — two cars to the front and rear of the caged prison bus containing Hinksman — sped down the hill away from Lancaster Prison and the crowd of onlookers. The traffic-lights at the bottom of the hill next to Waterstone’s bookshop were set on green for them. The convoy should have turned left and gone into the one-way system which rings Lancaster; however, a few minutes before the convoy had left the prison, the last police operation for the trial had come into effect. Officers had stepped into all relevant junctions and stopped all traffic, enabling the convoy to turn right against the flow of traffic.