‘How were you able to raid that factory without Mr Rashidi’s knowledge, given the fact that it was situated on the top three floors of a tower block, and was presumably well protected?’ asked Grace.
‘It was indeed, ma’am, but my team mounted an undercover operation, known as Trojan Horse. We were well aware of the tight security surrounding Block A, the building in which the drugs factory was located. It included four lookouts stationed at ground level outside the entrance to the building, making it almost impossible for any of my officers to reach the upper floors before Mr Rashidi could be warned of our presence, giving him more than enough time to reach the safety of his apartment on the twenty-third floor in the adjoining building, Block B, which is connected to Block A by a walkway on that floor.’
Booth Watson wrote the words Block B on his yellow pad.
‘Taking all this into account, inspector, how could a team of armed police officers hope to reach the twenty-third floor of Block A before the defendant could escape to his apartment in the adjoining block?’
‘My learned friend is at it again, m’lud,’ said Booth Watson, rising more quickly this time. ‘It has not been established that my client had an apartment in the adjoining block. In fact, the Crown’s star witness claimed the defendant lived in the same block — Block A — as I feel sure you recall, m’lud.’
The judge wrote down this observation, as did the foreman of the jury.
‘And my learned friend is at it again,’ said Grace. ‘If he would be a little more patient, I promise to supply him with all the proof he requires.’
Booth Watson sat back down, while Sir Julian could barely stop himself applauding.
‘Having established the existence of an escape route from the drugs factory in Block A to an apartment in Block B, how did you overcome that problem?’
‘Moments before the raid began, a carpenter who was already waiting on the landing of the twenty-third floor of Block B boarded up the entrance to the walkway. That gave my men enough time to reach the drugs factory before Rashidi was able to escape.’
Grace turned to Booth Watson and gave him a warm smile, which he didn’t reciprocate.
‘And having arrested Mr Rashidi on the premises, you took him to Brixton police station where he was held overnight?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘On the following morning, you gained access to an apartment in Block B. What was the purpose of that visit, inspector?’
‘Under section eighteen of PACE, I had the authority to search any apartment in that building in order to establish if it had been Mr Rashidi’s place of residence whenever he was in London.’
Booth Watson smiled as he penned the word, If.
‘And were you able to do so, inspector?’
‘I found a wardrobe in the bedroom full of tailored suits that had been made by Bennett and Reed of Savile Row, along with a dozen hand-made shirts from Pink’s of Jermyn Street that just happened to fit the defendant perfectly.’
‘Fitted up, more like,’ said Booth Watson as he rose to his feet. ‘M’lud, has my learned friend conveniently forgotten that the tailor in question confirmed that Mr Rashidi was not one of his clients?’
‘Let us move on to a piece of evidence that even my learned friend won’t be able to dismiss quite so easily. Inspector,’ said Grace, turning back to face her brother, ‘during your investigation of the luxurious apartment in Block B, did you come across anything that proved beyond reasonable doubt that it was Mr Rashidi who must have spent his nights there during the week?’
‘Yes, ma’am. On a side table in the master bedroom I came across a photograph, the silver frame of which was engraved with the letter A.’
‘And you assumed that the A stood for Assem.’
‘Yes, I did.’
Booth Watson was quickly on his feet, but Grace continued before he could intervene.
‘However, that turned out not to be the case?’
‘That’s correct, ma’am. I later discovered that the A stood for Asprey, the well-known luxury goods company in Bond Street.’
‘Then what led you to believe there was any connection between that photograph and the defendant?’
‘It was a photograph of Mr Rashidi’s mother.’
A tumult of chatter broke out in the court, and Grace had to wait for some time before she was able to ask her next question. ‘The photograph is part of the Crown’s evidence, m’lud, and has been accepted by both sides.’ She gave Booth Watson a warm smile, before adding, ‘And with your permission, I’ll ask the clerk of the court to show it to the witness so he can confirm it was the photo he found on the bedside table of the spacious apartment in Block B.’
The judge nodded, and the clerk extracted a silver-framed photograph from the bundle of evidence, walked across to the witness box and handed it to Detective Inspector Warwick.
‘Inspector,’ said Grace, ‘can you confirm this is the silver frame you found on a bedside table of the apartment in Block B?’
‘Yes, I can.’
‘Do you recognize the woman in the photograph?’
There was total silence as the court waited for William’s reply.
‘No, I don’t,’ he said finally, staring down at the image. ‘Someone must have replaced the original photograph.’
By the time order had been restored, Booth Watson was back on his feet.
‘M’lud, I wonder if the jury, and indeed you and I, might be allowed to see the photograph in question, as the inspector no longer appears to believe it proves my client’s guilt,’ he paused, ‘beyond reasonable doubt.’
Mr Justice Whittaker hesitated before nodding.
The clerk handed the photograph up to the judge, but after studying it, he looked none the wiser. He passed it back to the clerk, who in turn handed it to the foreman of the jury. He took his time looking at the photograph of an elderly lady before showing it to his fellow jurors.
Grace and Sir Julian were the next people to consider the evidence, before it finally reached Mr Booth Watson, who gave the photograph only a cursory glance before giving it back to the clerk of the court. Sir Julian leant across and whispered a clear instruction to his daughter, who carried out his bidding.
‘M’lud,’ she said, ‘I wonder if you would grant us a short recess, in order that the Crown might consider its position.’
‘I will allow you thirty minutes, Ms Warwick,’ said the judge. ‘No more.’ He checked his watch. ‘Counsel will be back in their places by eleven fifteen.’
‘All rise.’
Rebecca couldn’t help thinking about what had happened earlier that morning, when Nicky had crept into the flat just after six, obviously hoping she wouldn’t be seen.
When she’d joined her flatmate for breakfast, Nicky didn’t mention where she’d spent the night. She was usually open about the men in her life and often had Rebecca in fits of laughter about her would-be Romeos. Nicky’s diary was always full, while Rebecca’s was full of blank pages.
Whenever her mother raised the subject of boyfriends, which was almost every other weekend, Rebecca told her it was difficult because of her job and the hours she kept. Most men backed off, she explained, once they discovered she was in the police force. Mind you, that didn’t seem to prevent Nicky from leading a busy social life. Rebecca hoped this was just another one-night stand, and a long way from Romford. But if that was the case, why hadn’t Nicky... Rebecca sat down at her desk and began to write a report...