‘He’s still in jail.’
‘Another unreliable witness, who I imagine Sir Julian will not be calling on to give evidence in this trial,’ Booth Watson said as he turned to face the jury. ‘So, allow me to sum up your evidence, Mr Sangster. You were a doctor before you were struck off the Medical Register for violating your professional code of conduct. You’re a drug addict who’s happy to give evidence under oath that turns out to be hearsay picked up from another prisoner while you were in jail. You only worked in the drugs factory for two, possibly three, weeks, yet you claim to have known the defendant for some considerable time. You were struck off for harming your patients by over-prescribing dangerous drugs, and later received a surprisingly lenient two-year sentence, and you somehow ended up serving less than a year. That at least is common knowledge.’
‘You’re twisting my words,’ shouted Sangster.
‘I think they were already twisted, Mr Sangster. But I’m happy to give you a chance to straighten them out before I ask any further questions.’
Booth Watson stared impassively at the Crown’s star witness, waiting for a reply, but none was forthcoming.
‘The truth is, Mr Sangster, that you’re a super-grass with no grass. I can only hope the Crown will be calling on some more reliable witnesses to support their rather weak case.’
The judge didn’t look pleased. ‘Do you have any more questions for this witness, Mr Booth Watson?’ he asked.
‘None that I suspect would elicit an honest answer, m’lud,’ said defence counsel before resuming his place on the bench with an exaggerated sigh.
‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a millionaire,’ said Marty.
Jerry placed an arm around Nicky’s shoulder and pulled her gently towards him.
‘That’s all very well for you to say, but I’m penniless.’
‘Then you’ll have to learn how to steal from the rich, and be sure not to give anything back to the poor.’
Her head rested on his shoulder.
‘But that’s immoral.’
He turned to face her and smiled, not that she could see him in the darkness of the cinema.
‘Where do you draw the line when it comes to breaking the law?’
He leant over and kissed her gently on the lips.
‘I don’t. I leave my lawyer to make those decisions.’
Their tongues touched.
‘So how do I join the greed club?’
She broke off and turned her attention back to the screen, although she’d lost the plot.
‘First you identify a family company with a strong asset base, that’s currently being managed by the third generation.’
He placed a hand on her thigh.
‘What kind of assets?’
She gently removed his hand.
‘Land, property, paintings, jewellery even. Anything you can dispose of quickly.’
He kissed her again with a practised confidence that left her in no doubt this wasn’t the first time he’d sat in the back row. Possibly even in the same seat.
‘What’s my next move?’
His hand slipped under her jumper.
‘Start buying the company’s shares in different names, but not in large amounts or they’ll work out what you’re up to.’
He unclasped her bra.
‘And if you pull that off?’
He began to gently massage her breast.
‘You replace the management and sack all the workers.’
‘How will it end?’
Her nipple hardened.
‘You sell off all the assets and make a killing, before the shareholders find out what you’ve been up to.’
This time she didn’t resist.
‘What’s that called?’
‘Asset stripping.’
‘It could have gone better,’ admitted William.
‘Enlighten me,’ said the commander, as he sank back into his favourite chair by the fireplace and listened carefully.
‘My father began with the forensics specialist, who produced several items from the drugs factory that clearly revealed Rashidi’s fingerprints.’
‘I don’t think Rashidi will be denying he was there,’ said the Hawk.
‘Dr Webb, the government’s drugs supremo, was next up. She was totally convincing and didn’t leave the jury in any doubt about the scale of the operation Rashidi was running. Booth Watson didn’t even bother to cross-examine her.’
‘Sounds as if we’re well ahead—’
‘Until Mr Bennett, the Savile Row tailor, made an appearance. I’m afraid he wasn’t exactly helpful. Said he couldn’t recall ever meeting Rashidi, let alone making a suit for him.’
‘Then he’s got a very selective memory,’ said Hawksby.
‘Especially as I think Rashidi was wearing one of his suits in court.’
‘If that’s the case, he’ll be trapped the moment he enters the witness box.’
‘If he enters the witness box, which is unlikely, as he won’t want to admit whose photograph it was we found on the bedside table in his flat.’
‘He and Booth Watson will have been thinking about that for weeks, so we can assume that by now they’ll have come up with an alternative explanation.’
‘They won’t be able to get away with suggesting I planted the photo. How would I ever have got my hands on it in the first place?’
‘When you visited his mother’s home in The Boltons to question her?’
‘Since his arrest she’s refused to have anything to do with him, so he may not even know I visited her.’
‘She has a chauffeur and a housekeeper, paid for by Rashidi, so he’ll know,’ said the Hawk. ‘But how about Sangster? Surely the jury found his evidence compelling?’
‘After my father had completed his examination, the jury looked as if they weren’t in any doubt that Rashidi was Sangster’s boss. In fact, I thought we were home and dry until Booth Watson got back on his feet.’
‘Not again.’
‘I have to admit his cross-examination was lethal. By the time he sat down, the jury could have been forgiven for wondering if it was Sangster who should have been in the dock.’
The Hawk let out a long sigh. ‘So it will now be up to you, William, to make sure that after you’ve given your evidence tomorrow, the jury will be back on the side of the angels.’
‘On a wing and a prayer,’ said William.
‘Take them through how you found out that Rashidi was leading a double life,’ said the Hawk as if he hadn’t heard the comment, fearing he might be regaled with its derivation. ‘And finish up with what happened on the night of the raid. Then we can leave the jury to decide who they believe — the drug baron or the Choirboy.’
‘If I can pull that off,’ said William, ‘Rashidi might even consider giving evidence in a last desperate attempt to avoid being sent back to prison.’
‘Booth Watson will advise him against doing anything quite that foolish. However I suspect Rashidi might well ignore his advice. He’s a last-throw-of-the-dice man, who’ll believe he can convince the jury of his innocence, whatever the odds.’
‘He can’t be that stupid,’ said William.
‘No, but he might be that arrogant.’
‘Any advice on how I should handle Booth Watson?’
‘If you do your job properly, I suspect he won’t even bother to cross-examine you. He’ll want the Choirboy’s evidence erased from the jurors’ memories as quickly as possible. But be sure you get a good night’s sleep, just in case,’ the commander added, before putting down the phone.