Potting gave him a sheepish look.
‘Or if you get lost,’ Grace couldn’t help adding, cheekily, ‘ask a policeman.’
78
Tuesday 21 May
Mickey Starr’s previous cellmate, Charles Nelson, had been transferred to another prison, and to his dismay, Mickey had been moved to a different cell on the remand wing of Lewes Prison. He was now sharing with a tattooed, unfriendly and intimidating hulk of an Albanian bodybuilder called Lorik Vusaj, who was on a murder charge.
The tiny cell, as the one before, but even smaller, consisted of two bunk beds, one above the other, and a toilet and washbasin screened off by a plastic shower curtain. There wasn’t enough room to swing a mouse, let alone a cat.
By dint of the fact that Vusaj was here before him, the beefcake controlled the remote. Which meant Mickey had to endure an endless diet of football games, during which the Albanian shouted, constantly and loudly, at the screen, at pretty much every move every player — on either side — made.
Ever since the news of Stuie’s death, Mickey had been desperate for some peace and quiet. To mourn his brother, but also to study the law, partly as a distraction. It was for these reasons, at 5 p.m. on Tuesday, he was grateful that the Albanian, with his minimal grasp of English, had fucked off to do some weight training.
It left him free to concentrate on his research, both on the laws around drugs importation and around sentence reductions through pleading guilty and turning Queen’s Evidence — a posh description for grassing someone up.
His solicitor, Anu Vasanth, had left him several thick books on the law, at his request, with relevant chapters and pages helpfully highlighted with yellow Post-it stickers. But even so, he was struggling to get his head around the legal jargon.
Suddenly it felt like the sun had gone behind a cloud. Except there was no sunlight in this cell. He looked up to see the bald head and muscular physique of another Eastern European man he’d vaguely noticed on this wing, who had a teardrop tattoo below his right eye. It signified he might have killed someone.
‘Got a message for you, Mickey. From your good friend Terry.’
Starr looked up.
‘You’re not going to be giving evidence tomorrow.’
An instant later, his throat was gripped by a hand as powerful as the jaws of a bulldozer. Then he saw a plastic blade inches from his left eye.
Mickey’s throat was crushed even tighter. So tight he was struggling to breathe.
He looked into the eyes of his attacker. Eyes that were as dark and empty as the deepest well in the universe. The blade came closer. The pressure increased around his throat. He could not breathe. The blade touched his good eye, cold, a shining blur.
Then, suddenly, the grip on his throat was gone.
He heard a grunt, then a crashing thud. All the light was momentarily blotted out. He saw his assailant fly back and strike his head against the side of the cell door. An instant later the man was on the ground with Starr’s Albanian cellmate, Lorik, on top of him. Holding the weapon.
‘You going to blind my friend? I’ll cut your ears off, then I cut your dick and balls off and stuff them down your throat if you ever come near him again. We understand each other?’
Mickey’s assailant nodded. Then screamed as the Albanian sliced through his right ear, which fell to the ground, leaving blood spurting out of the side of his head.
‘You lucky man. Today I just take one ear. You come near my friend again, ever, I take your other. Now go fuck yourself.’
Starr’s assailant scrambled, clumsily and unsteadily, to his feet, clamping his hand to his head, and made for the door. Lorik kicked him hard in the backside, sending him forward through the doorway and crashing face down onto the floor, blood still pouring. The Albanian threw the ear after him, then kicked the door shut.
‘Thanks, pal,’ Mickey said.
Lorik patted him on the shoulder. ‘You my friend.’
79
Wednesday 22 May
Meg, waiting to go back into court, reread the message she’d received from Laura late last night.
Hi Mum, Galapagos — amazing! Did a budget boat trip where we were like inches from blue-footed boobies, so close! And red-footed ones. And iguanas everywhere. And we saw all these red crabs — a gazillion! And did I tell u that really creepy guy who’s stalking us is here too? He’s everywhere we’ve been and we’re sure he keeps taking photos of us. Well, we’ve taken a photo of him — attached! Cassie went over to him, he said his name was Jorge and said he wasn’t taking photos of us. But don’t worry, we’re big and ugly enough to sort him out!
Back in court, Emily Denyer had finished giving her evidence after 4 p.m. on the afternoon of the previous day and due to the lateness of the hour the judge agreed that the cross-examination by the defence could begin this morning promptly at 10 a.m.
The defence counsel was on her feet.
‘Ms Denyer, would I be correct in saying you are unable to specify where this cash deposit of three point five million euros has actually come from?’
For the first time since she had begun giving her evidence, last Friday, Emily Denyer looked a little nervous.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But if we go back to Spreadsheet 11 in your bundle of documents, you will see an equivalent amount transferred from the Cayman Island Elstrom Bank account, which tallies with the amount deposited into the Seychelles Neubank account on the same day.’
‘Can you tell us beyond any doubt that this amount deposited into the Seychelles Neubank account came from the Cayman Islands Elstrom Bank account?’ Brown asked.
Denyer shook her head. ‘Not beyond all doubt, no.’
‘Are you aware that there are many hundreds of transactional deposits daily into the Seychelles Neubank account, many of which are for large amounts?’ Brown pressed.
‘It was not necessary as part of my investigation to look at every deposit made. What I have told the court in my evidence is the electronic information that shows the large movement of monies into the relevant accounts,’ the Financial Investigator conceded.
‘Really?’ Brown said. ‘But I put it to you that this was just a fishing exercise, hoping you would find my client’s name on one of these accounts. Is it correct that you did not find the name of my client on any of these overseas accounts?’
Denyer replied, ‘There was no trace of a specific name but that’s what I would have expected to find. The whole purpose of creating these types of accounts overseas is to conceal identities.’
Meg felt a flutter of hope.
Brown spent the next hour asking Denyer numerous questions regarding her evidence in chief, but it appeared to Meg that the QC was making very little, if any, progress in discrediting any of it.
Brown continued. ‘Ms Denyer, my client is facing extremely serious allegations, it is important that the jury is aware of exactly what you are saying, you understand that?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Ms Denyer, let’s be very clear, there is nothing linking these two transactions except that they are of the same amount, that’s right, isn’t it? There’s no name, company details, nothing whatsoever beyond the cash amount, is there?’
Denyer countered her. ‘That, and the account numbers match.’
‘So, your conclusion is based solely on coincidence?’
Denyer started to respond but, before she could, Brown added, ‘That’s pretty desperate, isn’t it?’
Cork immediately stood up and said to the judge, ‘I object to my learned colleague’s last comment, Your Honour.’