“Something in the region of fifty thousand quid over a period of a few months, if all went well. Maybe more in the future, if the supply didn’t dry up.” He leaned forward and gripped the sides of the chair. “Look, you can judge me all you like, but have you any idea what that would have meant to Sheri and me? It would have got us out of that fucking prefab, for a start, and it would have given me a good chance at expanding the business, buying some up-to-date equipment, making something out of it. And all I had to do was play go-between for Motcombe and Devon.” He laughed. “It was a bit of a joke on Motcombe, too. He didn’t know Sheri’s Jamaican and that his money would actually be going to help one of the people he wanted to destroy.”
“Didn’t that bother you, Mark? That he was intending to cause so much suffering in the West Indian community?”
“That was just a load of bollocks he came up with for Jason’s benefit. He was after profits, pure and simple.”
“Takes one to know one?”
“Something like that. Anyway, once you get heroin out on the streets, there’s no telling what color your buyers will be, is there? There’s no color bar on H. Even Jason knew that. Like I said, I thought it was funny that Sheri and Connor were going to get some benefit from this.”
Banks shook his head. “So you agreed?”
Wood nodded. “Under Motcombe’s instructions, I met with Wes, then with Devon. They never met Neville, didn’t know who he was. I called him Mr. H. Anyway, we talked about prices, delivery schedules, methods of getting the stuff into the country, the lot. Then Devon said he’d think about it. A few days later he got in touch with me through Wes and told me to let Mr. H know we were in business. I suppose Motcombe got in touch with his blokes in Turkey – I didn’t have anything to do with that end of the operation – and they set things in motion. There were huge profits in it for everyone. Devon wouldn’t stop at Leeds – he’d be shifting stuff to Bradford, Sheffield, Manchester, Birmingham, you name it. Somehow or other, that seemed to resolve the problems on both sides. Motcombe’s about dealing with darkies and Devon’s about dealing with a whitey like me.” Mark snorted. “Great healer of race relations, greed, isn’t it?”
“And where does Jason come in?”
“Motcombe made a big mistake there. I could have told him, but he didn’t ask. He seemed to think Jason would just love the idea. I mean, I don’t think they’d ever talked about drugs or anything other than league business before. But Jason was straight. Even with Motcombe’s justification, he wouldn’t go for it. Motcombe got worried that Jason would spread the word among his colleagues in the movement and they’d chuck him out and put Jason in charge instead. I suppose you know neo-Nazis aren’t really supposed to be into drugs?”
Banks nodded.
“Then there was the matter of the money to be made. Anyway, Motcombe got paranoid, especially as Jason had gained a lot of respect in the movement and people looked up to him for guidance and leadership. Jason was fast becoming a loose cannon on the deck. So Motcombe decided things would be better all around with Jason out of the way. He knew I was desperate for the money, and he also knew me and Jason didn’t get along, so he asked me if I could arrange for the Jamaicans to do away with him. That way, he said, if they happened to get caught, it’d only be two less ‘niggers’ to worry about. You have to give the guy credit, at least he’s consistent. I didn’t want to do it. I mean, I’m no killer. I know Jason and me had our problems, but I didn’t want to see him dead. You have to believe that. I had no choice.”
“What happened?” Banks asked.
Mark ran his hand over his head. “Like Motcombe asked, I talked to Wes and I told him Jason was involved in the Turkish end of the deal and that he was planning to rip Devon off. I also said he turned out to be a racist bastard, a member of some loony fringe group. Well, I couldn’t tell him the truth, could I? I had to make something up pretty quick, and it had to cover whatever publicity might come about when you found out who Jason was. Wes went back to Devon, who ordered it done. Just like that. No questions asked. And he also stipulated that I had to be in it with them. A sort of test of faith, I suppose. I didn’t want to do it. I just didn’t have any fucking choice.”
“There’s always a choice, Mark.”
“Right. Sure. Easy for you to say that. It came down to me over Jason. Sheri and Connor over Jason. What would you have done? Like I said, Jason and me weren’t close, and the bastard did get on my nerves with all that Nazi shit.”
“Who came up with the plan?”
“That was down to me. You know the rest. Motcombe wanted it done out of the way. I mean, he knew you’d find out who the victim was eventually, and what organization he belonged to, but he needed time to get his files out of Jason’s house. He sent two of his blokes to do that. Anyway, Scattered Dreams were playing in Eastvale and Jason had mentioned possible trouble with some Pakistani kids who went there. Told me he’d already chucked a brick through one of their windows. It couldn’t have been better.”
“What about the actual killing? How did it happen?”
Wood swallowed. “Frankie and Wes were waiting at the other end of the ginnel, as we’d arranged, and when I hit Jason with the bottle they came forward and started booting him. I kicked him a couple of times, to make it look like I was with them all the way. But only a couple of times. And not very hard. He-” Wood stopped for a moment and put his head in his hands. “Christ, he begged us to stop. I just thought about Connor and the damp walls and the yobs that taunt Sheri, call her a black bitch and threaten to gang-bang her every time she goes to the shops. I didn’t think about Jason lying there till it was too late. You have to believe me, I didn’t mean to kill him. It was Wes and Frankie. They’re fucking maniacs. They’d been out in the van smoking crack.”
“All right, Mark,” said Banks. “Calm down. Tell me, what happened when we first arrested you? Why did you change your story?”
Mark shifted in his chair. “Well, the evidence. It was getting pretty strong against me. I was up shit creek. So when Varney took me aside, I phoned Motcombe and basically explained the situation.”
“What did he say?”
“To tell you it was just a fight between the two of us, to leave him out of it, and he’d see I got the best legal help available. He’d also take care of Sheri and Connor financially while I was inside, if it came to that. What a laugh, Motcombe taking care of a black woman and a mixed-race kid.”
“But he didn’t know that.”
“No. And I didn’t tell him.”
“Have you talked to him from jail?”
“A couple of times. But even then he seemed very nervous.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Getting my story right when it came to court.”
“Did you talk to Devon?”
“No. He’s keeping a low profile. I phoned my brother-in-law, though, Wes.”
“What did you talk to him about?”
“I told him who Mr. H was, where he lived. Just in case something went wrong and Motcombe didn’t keep up his end of the bargain. You know, like maybe when he did find out Sheri’s black and all, then he wouldn’t help them. I needed some sort of insurance.”
“Okay, Mark, I need to know just one more thing before we start taking fresh statements and making this all official.”
“Yes?”
“Will you testify that Neville Motcombe instigated this conspiracy to murder Jason Fox?”
Wood’s lips curled. “Motcombe? Bloody right I will. No way that bastard’s going to get away with it.”
“And Devon?”
Mark looked away. “I don’t know. That’s different. I’d need some sort-”
“We’ll see you and family are protected, Mark, like I told you earlier.”
“I’ll think about it. Okay?”