A Time For Justice (41 page)

On the Monday of the sixth week Graham began his final speech
for the defence. It lasted two days - two days in which he tried
valiantly to discredit the prosecution evidence. He was very
convincing, eloquent and believable - but on the whole he was
fighting a lost cause; however, as he was being paid so well and
had such a dangerous client, he tried his best.

He did have a good case to rubbish Henry Christie’s evidence,
though. Despite the supporting forensic and ballistic evidence,
Henry’s testimony was unsafe, he insisted. He referred to a famous
stated case - R v Turnbull - which dealt with the subject of
identification and the guidelines which the police should follow.
Most of Henry’s evidence did not follow these guidelines;
therefore, Graham submitted, Hinksman should be found not guilty of
the murders in the alley.

On Wednesday the Judge began her careful summing up. This
lasted until the Friday and was fascinating to listen to. It was as
though she was telling a story around a campfire. She enthralled
everyone with her turn of phrase and clear voice. She made detailed
reference to Henry’s evidence and supported Graham’s submission.
She told the jury that they must be very sure that
Detective-Sergeant Christie’s evidence was sound. Any doubt and
they must not convict.

Henry could only agree with her conclusion from a
professional point of view. Personally he was extremely pissed off
about it. But then again, he mused, she hadn’t told them
not
to
convict...

However, she more or less directed the jury to convict on all
the other counts.

The twelve good and true men and women then retired to
consider their verdicts. By five o’clock they had not got anywhere.
They had begun a process which was to last five days. Over this
period they were taken to a secret location - an hotel on the
outskirts of Lancaster where they were guarded by armed police and
dog-handlers. The Judge instructed them to remain there until they
reached their verdicts. Only then could they return to
court.

Late that Friday night, the jury retired to their respective
bedrooms at the hotel to get a good night’s sleep before continuing
with their task the following morning.

At 6 p.m. in Miami, five hours behind British time, Sue
finished her work for the day at the FBI building, collected a
couple of personal belongings from her desk and made ready to go
home.

She was extremely bored with the task now allotted to her - a
fraud enquiry which had been ongoing for two years and which the
Bureau had been unable to crack. For the last two months she had
been combing balance sheets, profit and loss accounts, bank
transfers and private bank accounts until figures had been coming
out of her ears, but at least she had made a breakthrough. She was
fairly sure how the fraud was being perpetrated, but uncertain how
it could be proved in court.

Although pleased by the progress, she was actually bored rigid
with the case. The short time she’d spent teamed up with Joe Kovaks
and the Corelli Unit had been very exciting and had given her a
look over the fence, where the grass was definitely greener. She
longed to get back onto organised crime where the baddies pulled
guns out, not pens, and it was blood that was spilled, not
ink.

And she missed Joe.

After an unsteady start, to say the least, she and he had
become good friends. She had managed to maintain some contact with
him when she’d been transferred, but it had dwindled and she hadn’t
seen him for almost four weeks now. It made her sad, but she knew
he was completely immersed in Corelli, especially after the tragedy
with Chrissy.

As Sue stepped into the elevator, one other person was already
inside, finger on the Door Open button.

Oh God, she thought. I do not like this guy. He gives me the
creeps. However, she steeled herself and said, ‘Hello, Mr Ritter,’
pleasantly.

‘
Hello, Sue,’ he said. ‘Ground or basement?’

‘
Basement, please. My car’s down there.’

‘
Mine too.’ He smiled ingratiatingly and pressed the button.
The doors closed slowly with a sinister hiss and the elevator
descended.

Sue stared at the doors.

Ritter lounged against the side of the elevator, looking at
her. Bitch, he thought. You fucking know, don’t you?

‘
Any thing planned for the weekend,’ he asked her.

‘
No, not really. Some shopping, maybe. Catch a movie, that
sort of thing. ‘

‘
Not going to Bayside, by any chance?’ He laughed
nervously.

Now why ask that? She recalled seeing him there once and him
denying it, but that was months ago. Obviously it meant something
to him - probably out meeting some woman other than his wife - but
so what? He wanted to deny it, let him deny it.

‘
Spending some time with your fiancé - Damian, isn’t it, from
Fingerprints?’

‘
No, he’s away,’ she said. ‘Gone to see his mother for a few
days. I’ll have a nice weekend all alone.’ She-smiled at Ritter,
wishing he’d shut up but not wishing to be impolite.

Fortunately the elevator stopped on the second floor and two
secretaries got in. They were going to the basement, too. Sue was
relieved. She exhaled a long breath.

At the basement Ritter stood by the elevator door, finger on
the button, and allowed the three women to walk out ahead of him.
The secretaries peeled off to the left. Sue walked straight on
towards the car park
.

If she turns round, Ritter thought, she knows.

Sue couldn’t help herself. She glanced quickly round and saw
Ritter still in the elevator, watching her. Weirdo. She increased
her pace. Why the hell did I tell him I was alone this weekend, she
asked herself. She had an uneasy feeling.

Ritter pressed the button which would take the elevator to the
administration floor.

In the general office Ritter managed to collar one of the
clerks before she left. Ritter knew she dealt with annual
leave.

‘
Have you got a moment?’ he asked.

‘
Yeah, sure, what is it?’

‘
I left a fingerprint indent with one of the experts
downstairs, a guy called Damian Faber. I’ve been trying to chase
him up today for a result. Turns out he’s on leave. I need to speak
to him pretty urgently about it. Is there any chance you can get
into your computer records and see if he’s left an address where he
can be contacted? I’d really appreciate it.’

‘
Yeah, sure, no problem. Won’t take but a minute.’

She sat down by a computer terminal, switched the machine on
and tapped quickly into the computerised leave records.

‘
Here we are.’ She leaned sideways to allow Ritter to see the
screen. .

‘
Mother’s address in Clearwater,’ said Ritter. ‘No phone
number. Damn!’ He jotted down the details, which also included
Damian’s home address and phone number. ‘I am very much obliged to
you,’ he said to the clerk. ‘Looks like I’ll have to send the local
cops round to roust him.’

‘
Looks like,’ she said, logging out and switching off. She
pulled on her coat and hurried out of the office, late for her
date.

Ritter phoned Damian’s home number. The answering machine
clicked in.

‘
Excellent,’ said Ritter to himself with a dangerous smile.
‘He ain’t there, so he must still be at Mommy’s.’

It was going to be a short, violent weekend for Agent Fat
Bitch.

Damian had decided to surprise Sue.

He’d taken a few days’ leave in order to visit his mother in
Clearwater because she claimed to be seriously ill and close to
death. Seriously mad, Damian thought as he drove east along Highway
41 towards Miami and home in his battered Chevvy.

Two days with her had driven him nuts. He had originally
planned to stay until Sunday, but her crazy ways decided him to
return early, surprise Sue and have a weekend of
debauchery.

The thought of her body - a body he had come to love even
though she was immense - spurred him to press down a touch more on
the gas pedal. The car surged ahead and at the same time he
experienced a pleasant sensation at his groin. He reached forwards
and turned the volume of the radio up a touch as the Stones cut
into
Honky Tonk Women.

The chimes on the front door of the apartment tinkled. Sue
pulled on her thin pink cotton dressing-gown, the one Damian liked
- especially when she was damp and it clung to her - and trotted
happily to answer it. She peered through the spy hole and stepped
back, puzzled but unafraid.

She unlocked and opened the door. ‘Mr Ritter,’ she said. It
was more of a question.

‘
Hello, Sue.’

‘
What can I do for you?’

‘
I think we need to talk.’

‘
About what?’ She felt suddenly vulnerable and tugged the belt
on her gown tighter.

‘
I actually think you know,’ Ritter said, raising his
eyebrows. ‘May I come in? We can hardly conduct a civilised
conversation out here, now can we?’

Reluctantly she allowed him in, but only because he was an FBI
agent and wouldn’t be foolish enough to try anything stupid. He
sidled slowly past her into the living room, brushing his arm
against her breasts.

‘
Nice place you have here,’ he commented. He went to the
kitchen, then the bedroom and looked into both. ‘Nice bed. I’ll bet
you and Damian do some megafuck work on that.’

Sue’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t quite believe what
she’d just heard.

‘
What can I do for you, Mr Ritter?’ she said coldly, deciding
to ignore it, just in case she’d misheard.

He spun round from the bedroom door and pointed at her. ‘What
can you do for me? First of all you can sit down.’

Something about the way he said those words made Sue’s legs go
weak. There was some sort of trouble brewing here. ‘I’d rather
stand. This is my home - I’ll do as I like. And I’m asking you to
leave. Goodbye, Mr Ritter.’

He covered the space between them in a couple of strides,
moving so fast that Sue was unable to defend herself from the
powerful blow that sent her spiralling backwards onto the couch. It
had been a well timed, well-connected slap - with all his might
behind it.

She sat up, shaking her head. ‘Damian,’ she called out. ‘Get
in here!’

Ritter laughed. ‘Maybe when he comes back from Mommy’s. You’re
all alone, Sue. I know these things. I check - I’m a
pro.’

‘
You’re a madman,’ she hissed. She was sure her jaw was
broken. She started to clamber to her feet, intent on hitting back,
but she was too slow.
Where was
Damian?

Ritter grabbed her hair and rammed her face down onto his
up-thrusting knee. Her nose burst with a distinct crack and he
tossed her back onto the couch.

‘
You really are obscene,’ he said, standing over her, looking
dispassionately down at her exposed body: her gown, covered in
blood, had sagged open and ridden up.

But Sue was past modesty. She had never felt such incredible
pain before. She whimpered like a kitten: ‘What do you
want?’

He smiled benevolently. ‘That day at Bayside - why were you
there? Were you watching me, seeing who I was meeting? Is that why
you were there?’ His questions were relentless.

‘
I was having a picnic,’ said Sue.

‘
Liar!’ His foot lashed out and he kicked her shins hard. She
screamed in pain. ‘Now -
why were you
there?’

‘
Having a picnic ... boyfriend...’

Oh God Damian, where are you? Come to my rescue.

‘
You’ve been following me, haven’t you? Building up a dossier.
Who I meet, who I speak to. The boat I own - do you know about that
too? What about my condo? Have you checked my bank accounts? I bet
you have, you accountancy cunt. You know all about me and Corelli,
don’t you?’

‘
No, no, no,’ she cried desperately. ‘You’re wrong, wrong. Oh,
please Damian, help me.’

‘
He won’t help you,’ sneered Ritter. ‘He’s miles away, with
Mommy. So, who else knows all this?’ he demanded.

‘
No one ... you’re insane.’

He grabbed her by the hair again and yanked her into a sitting
position. Then leaned down and glared into her eyes. ‘Who ... else
... knows?’ he repeated slowly. Spittle ran from the corners of his
mouth. ‘Where is the file?’

‘
There is no file. I know nothing about you or Corelli,’ she
said.

He flung her back contemptuously, revealing her shaking folds
of flesh.

‘
Oh, you really are gross,’ he said disgustedly. ‘It’ll be
like sticking a pig.’ And he pulled a knife out of his
pocket.

Sue tried to scream but no noise would come; she tried to get
up and run away, but fear had driven all responses from her
body.

Ritter plunged the knife into her chest, piercing her heart.
By the time he’d removed it and plunged it in a second time, she
was as good as dead. This didn’t stop him from stabbing her in a
frenzy of utter blind madness another thirty-eight times. And that
was just the beginning.