Claudia brought out a digital recorder and placed it at the centre of the table. ‘Tell us everything you discovered last night.’
I outlined every detail. Barrington hung on my every word. For once, he didn’t mock me or exert his power. I guessed I was being useful to him.
‘Now you’re sure it was drugs inside those tyres?’ Barrington asked after I was finished.
‘As sure as I can be,’ I said. ‘The tyres were packed with bags of white powder.’
‘Didn’t you open one?’
‘No way. I wasn’t touching that stuff. And I wouldn’t know cocaine from caster sugar.’
‘It better not be caster sugar.’
‘Who packs tyres with caster sugar?’
That silenced Barrington.
‘Hiding the coke in the tyres is genius,’ he said. ‘I have to give the crafty bugger that. There’s no chopping the car up or hidden panels and the drugs come gift wrapped in an easy to transport package. They’re hidden in plain sight. There are dozens of wheels and tyres flying around, so everyone is going to ignore them.’
‘I bet these loaded wheels get put on at the end of the race and taken off when the cars are back at the workshop,’ I said.
‘Have you seen anyone take the tyres?’ Claudia asked.
‘Probably, but I haven’t been paying attention.’
‘Who’s responsible for changing them?’ Barrington asked.
‘No one special. All the guys are capable, from Rags on down, but Dylan’s part of the furniture now and he hasn’t seen anyone acting shady when it comes to the tyres. Which isn’t surprising.’
‘What makes you say that?’ Claudia asked.
‘If all the guys were involved, they’d either be cutting Dylan in or excluding him. Whoever’s switching wheels must be doing this after hours when no one is watching.’
Barrington got up from his chair and paced up and down in front of the window. He flicked his thumbnail against his index finger as he paced. I thought I heard the gears turning.
‘We could go in now,’ Claudia suggested. ‘We’d have enough to bury Rags. He’d give up his connections for a deal.’
Barrington turned his back on the mundane view. ‘No, I don’t want the mule, I want the network. I don’t want to risk Rags not talking.’
‘He’ll talk,’ Claudia said.
‘I’m not so sure,’ I said. ‘Rags isn’t a pushover.’
‘I agree,’ Barrington said. ‘You say the wheels with the drugs in them are on the cars?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Where are the cars going?’
‘We’re testing at Zandvoort in Holland next Wednesday.’
‘Why Zandvoort?’ Claudia said. ‘The ESCC has no scheduled race there.’
‘I know.’
‘Then why?’
‘After catching a rival spying, Rags says he wants to test somewhere with a little privacy. Kurt Haulk has connections at the circuit and got us in.’
Claudia and Barrington looked at each other.
‘So let me get this straight. Ragged Racing will be travelling to mainland Europe with almost a hundred kilos of cocaine to a secluded place where you have no business being,’ Barrington said.
‘Pretty much.’
‘You want to catch them during the exchange?’ Claudia asked.
Barrington grinned. ‘Oh, yes.’
My emotions got stuck between floors. I’d be happy if Barrington wrapped up his investigation on Wednesday because it would mean our association was at an end, but so would my time with Ragged Racing. I’d told Russell Townsend I wouldn’t torpedo my drive for him, but it looked as if I’d be doing that for Barrington.
I drove back to Archway to fill Steve in on the next phase. Instead of finding him hard at work, I came back to find half a dozen police cars and a police van filling the parking area. My stomach sank. This was it. Sergeant Lucas was finally here to arrest me. The heavy police presence seemed like overkill, but I supposed he was still pissed off over the van theft. I stopped the Honda behind a cop car, blocking it in.
I climbed out and a uniformed officer came rushing at me with hands out.
‘You can’t go in.’
‘I think I’m the person Sergeant Lucas is expecting.’
The cop gave me a confused look. ‘Wait here.’
He disappeared inside Archway and a moment later, Steve and DI Huston emerged. Her presence confused me.
Steve broke away from her and got to me first. ‘It’s going to be OK,’ he whispered.
‘What did he say?’ Huston demanded.
‘He told me it was going to be OK. What’s going on?’ I asked.
‘We’ve been led to believe that you’re in possession of the weapon used to kill Jason Gates, Mr Westlake.’
‘What are you talking about? Is this is a joke?’
‘No joke. Please come with me. I’d like you to explain this.’
I looked to Steve for answers. He just shook his head in bewilderment.
We followed her back into the workshop where half a dozen officers were ransacking tool cabinets and emptying toolboxes. Others were pawing over the cars Steve was restoring for Gates. It was like watching wild dogs tearing apart a defenceless animal.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said to Steve.
‘I’d like your opinion on this,’ Huston said and pointed at the situation room.
I groaned.
She stopped in the doorway where a couple of officers were removing the whiteboards, using Steve’s tools. ‘What are these?’
‘What do they look like?’
‘It looks like a suspect board. Have you been running your own investigation, Mr Westlake? It goes some way to explaining why I keep finding your paw prints all over my case. How about you explain the rest?’
‘It’s nothing. Just idle speculation. There’s nothing wrong in that. Remember, I was a witness to Jason’s murder.’
‘Just a witness?’
‘Just a witness.’
‘Inspector,’ an excited voice shouted. ‘We’ve got it.’
I looked at Steve. I read the dread on his face.
A female officer burst from the toilets brandishing a cutthroat razor sealed in a plastic bag. Water dripped from the bag. ‘It was in the toilet’s cistern. There’s blood on it.’
I closed my eyes. I knew what was coming next.
‘Turn around, Mr Westlake. I’m arresting you.’
Lap Thirty-One
A uniformed officer drove Huston and me into London. Neither of them spoke to me during the drive. Not surprising. I’d lost my status as a free person. Others now decided when I spoke and who answered.
When we reached the station, Huston put me in the same interview room as before and left me there with the officer who’d driven us. It was familiar surroundings in an unfamiliar scenario. I’d seen the inside of a police interview room many times, but the charges levelled against me had always been minor. Until now.
The door opened. Huston walked in with two officers carrying the whiteboards from the situation room. As soon as they leaned them against the wall, they left along with the silent officer.
‘You look nervous Mr Westlake. Actually, you look petrified.’
A murder charge did that to me. I couldn’t see how Huston could make it stick, but you could make anything stick if you presented the information correctly. The room seemed smaller than it was. If they held me, my rooms from now on would be getting smaller and smaller.
Huston laid her file and the razor, now in an evidence bag, on the table between us. She loaded a cassette tape into the recorder and started it.