‘No, ma’am. Not really. Just trying to help.’
‘Right, and what does “sort of” ex-job mean, exactly?’
‘I was a civil servant, that’s all.’
Brooking sounded as if he’d been programmed to withhold information.
‘Protection work?’ queried Clarke. It was an educated guess.
‘Well, you know the sort of thing, ma’am,’ said Brooking.
Clarke continued to look at him enquiringly, but the driver-cum-bodyguard seemed to have clammed up. The DCI decided to leave it for now. She had a shrewd idea what his background might be.
She looked around the cobbled courtyard surrounded by high- and middle-rise office blocks. At that moment a red Jaguar came through the alleyway leading into the courtyard, tyres screeching noisily as it jerked to a halt at the police cordon. The driver jumped out, ducked under the ribbon, and started to run towards the prone man, shouting: ‘Oh my God, is that Henry? Oh my God, what’s happened?’
Hawkins and Phillips swiftly grabbed an arm each and restrained him. Then they led him back towards his vehicle, all three of them ducking under the cordon ribbon.
Clarke glanced enquiringly at Vogel, who was standing by her side. He told her the driver of the Jaguar was Stephen Hardcastle.
Clarke approached Hardcastle and introduced herself.
The lawyer was sweating. His eyes were wide open with shock. He was displaying none of his usual cool, but his voice was calmer and at a more normal level when he next spoke.
‘Is that Henry?’ he asked, gesturing towards the prone man on the floor, partly concealed from view by the paramedics.
Clarke affirmed that it was. ‘I am afraid Mr Tanner has been shot.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Hardcastle for the third time. ‘I mean, how? Who? Why?’
‘That’s a lot of questions, Mr Hardcastle,’ said Clarke. ‘At this stage in our enquiries I’m afraid we don’t have the answers — but I do have some questions for you. Let’s start with when you last saw Mr Tanner?’
‘Yesterday evening,’ Hardcastle replied, a slight tremor in his voice. ‘We were all gathered at his daughter’s house. Henry’s grandson is missing — but you know about that, don’t you?’
Clarke affirmed that she did.
Hardcastle seemed to notice Vogel for the first time.
‘Yes, DI Vogel took Henry and me to be interviewed at Lockleaze police station. Henry’s driver, Geoff, drove us back to The Firs afterwards. I, uh, thought I would leave the family to it. They needed to be alone.’
Hardcastle then noticed Geoff, standing there in his bloodstained clothes. He gulped, propping himself against the bonnet of his Jag, as if he needed support.
‘The boy, the boy being missing, you don’t think that’s connected, do you — to Henry being shot?’ he asked.
‘At this point I cannot comment, Mr Hardcastle,’ replied Clarke. ‘Can you tell me your movements since yesterday evening when you left the Mildmay home.’
‘I went straight back to my place. Got there about six, I think. Oh, I stopped at the Waitrose up the road. I suddenly realized I hadn’t eaten all day and I was starving. Then I went home. I microwaved a ready meal and ate it watching TV. Anything to take my mind off what had happened. And this morning I was at home until Henry called me. He told me to get my arse into the office.’
Hardcastle’s features stretched into a forced grin. ‘Typical Henry, that. It hadn’t occurred to me that he’d want me at work today, let alone that he would come in himself. Not with young Fred still missing. I might have known it though. He gave me a bit of a bollocking.’
‘What time did he call you?’ Vogel asked.
‘It was about half past nine, I think,’ said Hardcastle. ‘I was just wondering whether to call the family. I didn’t want to disturb or bother them, but I wanted them to know I was there for them.’
‘And where do you live?’ Vogel asked.
‘Down by the Floating Harbour,’ replied Hardcastle. ‘Conqueror House, one of the new apartment blocks.’
‘So you could drive here in ten minutes?’
‘Well yes, thereabouts,’ Hardcastle stumbled.
Vogel checked his watch. It was ten forty-five.
‘Then what took you so long?’
‘Well, I was in total shock last night. I took a bottle of whisky to bed with me — something I don’t normally do. I’d only been awake for a minute or two when Henry called, and I had a fearful hangover. I’m not used to booze. I shaved and showered and was about to leave when I began to feel sick. Before I could make it to the bathroom, I threw up down the front of my shirt. So I had to change, then I drank some water and lay down on the bed until my stomach settled.’
Vogel and Clarke both stared at him hard. They were a good double act. They were weighing up whether to believe Hardcastle or not, and somehow made that quite obvious.
‘So you would have been pretty sure that Henry Tanner would get here before you?’ asked Vogel.
‘Well, yes.’
‘And wouldn’t it annoy him that you had taken so long to follow his instruction?’
‘Not as much as it would have annoyed him if I’d thrown up over his desk,’ muttered Hardcastle.
Vogel did not look amused.
‘Is there anyone who can confirm what you have told us, sir?’ he asked. ‘Or were you alone at home?’
‘I was alone.’ Hardcastle wiped the back of one hand across his forehead. He was sweating. ‘If I need an alibi, I’m afraid I don’t have one. But I wouldn’t know how to do something like this even if I wanted to.’
‘And might you want to?’ Vogel asked.
‘Are you out of your mind!’ snapped Hardcastle, finding some spirit. Then he glanced nervously up at the silhouettes of rooftops surrounding the courtyard. ‘How do we know the bastard who did this isn’t still up on a roof somewhere? How do we know it was only Henry he was after?’
Clarke studied him carefully. Hardcastle had echoed her own worst-case scenario thoughts. Nonetheless there was something about the man’s responses that didn’t feel right to her, though she couldn’t grasp what it was. Then again, people’s responses were often difficult to fathom in traumatic circumstances, and the shooting of one’s employer certainly qualified on that score. Nevertheless Clarke remained uneasy.
‘We don’t, sir,’ she said. ‘But I’m puzzled by your last remark. Have you some idea who might have been “after” Henry Tanner?’
Clarke knew far more about Henry Tanner than Vogel did. She’d read the confidential files and acquainted herself with his history before leaving London. But she was beginning to wonder if she knew the whole story, or even anything approaching it.
Hardcastle shot a nervous glance up at the skyline again. But his shock and confusion were beginning to lift. He sounded wary when he spoke again.
‘I have no idea who might be behind this shooting,’ he said. ‘I’m in a state, that’s all. I suddenly thought I might be next.’
‘For any particular reason?’ asked Clarke.
‘No, of course not. But no one knows yet why Henry was shot, do they? He was gunned down by a sniper outside his own office. I’m his closest associate, now that his son and son-in-law are both dead. Wouldn’t anybody in that situation think they might be next? Or even that they could have been supposed to be first. I could have arrived here at any time, maybe even before Henry.’
He had a point, thought Clarke.
‘Or it could have been one of those random shootings, like Hungerford and that lunatic in Cumbria. I’m a bit shaky, that’s all.’
‘We believe only one shot was fired,’ said Clarke. ‘It seems our gunman made himself scarce once he’d shot Mr Tanner. Nothing random about that, is there?’
‘I didn’t know that, did I?’ responded Hardcastle. ‘You didn’t tell me how many shots had been fired.’