Fogarty: A City of London Thriller (42 page)

DS Scott paused to consult a typed statement. “Mr Connal Parker has stated that he received a call from Mr Mapperley instructing himself and Rafe Gibson to visit Mrs Akuta, and to ‘stop her from rocking the boat’.” Scott stared directly into Mapperley’s eyes. “I saw what was left of Mary Akuta after Rafe Gibson was finished with her. She won’t be rocking any boats now, will she, Gavin?” He spat out his words, and DCI Coombes squeezed his arm as Mapperley stared down
at his feet. Coombes took over.

“Mr Mapperley, Connal Parker will further testify that Rafe Gibson killed Mary Akuta and that Tony Kennerson and Jess Caplin, both of your employ, killed him. By the way, if you see your old Yard pal DCI Radlett in prison fatigues when you are on remand, don’t hold all of this
against him. He did his best.”

Mapperley dropped his head into his hands, and his lawyer sat grim faced as Coombes handed over to DS Scott, who listed the evidence linking Mapperley with Metal Tokens Limite
d and the pound coin forgeries.

***

After an hour the interview had been suspended, and Grainger tried to convince his client that, with a strong defence, they could avoid the more serious charges and maybe plead to the lesser charges. Mapperley wasn’t buying it and, when the door opened again, two different detectives were standing at the door. The two new detectives introduced themselves as being from the National Crime Agency, formerly SOCA, the serious and organised crime agency. They also stated that they were working in cooperation with HM Customs.

“Gavin Mapperley, you have already been arrested and cautioned. In addition to the charges you already face we now charge you with drug smuggling, tax evasion, conspiracy to avoid customs duty and conspiracy to assist and or procure acts of terrorism against the United Kingdom, its territories and its allies,”
the taller detective announced.

“This is truly outrageous!” Grainger spluttered. “What happens next? A senior traffic warden comes in and accuses my client of multiple counts of double parking? You had better be certain of your case, young man!”

Grainger slammed his pen onto the desk. Mapperley whispered into his lawyer’s ear, and Grainger spoke up again
, rather more calmly this time.

“My client has a right to know how he could be considered to be involved in terrorism. He believes, as I do, that you are playing the terrorism card simply to hold him for twenty eight days to build the case against him, rather than hold him for the twenty four hou
rs you are allowed otherwise.”

The two detectives passed papers between themselves, and the spokesman re
ad from a faxed sheet of paper.

“Five hours ago Europol, UK Customs, Interpol and the Metropolitan police were involved in a co-ordinated operation against a drug smuggling operation run by two men well known to Mr Mapperley. The two men in question are linked to Mr Mapperley by his dealings with Florabel Bloemen SA and that company’s illicit drug transactions. The raids have produced a paper trail leading right back to Mr Mapperley. It is now clear that Mr Mapperley has had numerous conversations with a Mr Peters and a Mr Willems, according
to intercepted communications.”

Grainger sighed impatiently. “Very interesting, Sergeant, but how is this even r
emotely linked with terrorism?”

“The names Peter Willems and Willem Peters are obviously false, as your client well knew. The real names of the men are Harun and Yunis Al Ahwaz; both are admitted members of Al Qaeda, Harun being listed as second in
command in Europe.”

The jaws of both Kelvin Grainger an
d Gavin Mapperley dropped open.

“The reason we are here today is to charge you and to inform you that, with warrants obtained overnight, we have frozen all of your personal and business bank accounts. We are pursuing all funds held in your name or that of your immediate family. As we speak, officers are heading towards your house to confiscate all of your computers and other electronic data storage devices. The officers will prevent anyone present in the house from removing any personal belongings or vehicles until they have been thoroughly searched. Tha
t will take around three days.”

Gavin Mapperley was incensed. “You can’t do that! My wife has no other form of income or access to cash, nor does my son. He’s a student; all of his studies will be on his laptop. You are de
liberately ruining our lives!”

“Drugs ruin lives, Mr Ma
pperley, and you peddle drugs.”

Tell them they can’t do this!” Mapperley looked to his lawyer, who knew that arguing was pointles
s. The lawyer spoke resignedly.

“OK, Sergeant. You’ve made your point. What do you really want?”

A tense negotiation took place over the next hour. Eventually a compromise was reached, which required that Mapperley would plead guilty to all counts, except those charges relating to assisting terrorism, and in return the NCA/SOCA would not impound the house he shared with his wife, the cars belonging to his wife and son, or the joint bank accounts, which his wife would be required to close and re-open in her sole name. Mapperley guessed that his wife would have to sell the house to fund her living expenses. Their joint account contained no more than four or five thousand pounds, and his next salary cheque from Garner-Br
inkman was unlikely to be paid.

The NCA and the drugs task force were happy with the deal, which would cut short a lengthy and technically complex trial. The Treasury would happily take the significant assets of Cresty Group and another company called Ashlaw Ltd, the details of which Mapperley had shared with the police to save his family. The Met police would be happy to have solved two murders in a matter of days, and to have closed down a long established North London gang of pimps, forgers, people traffickers and drug dealers. They would be less pleased with yet more corruption within the Force being uncovered, when they we
re already under investigation.

Quite how this all fitted in with a shoot-out in Wandsworth, and a burnt out Jaguar in Neasden, had yet to be worked out. One thing had not changed, though - with Ashley Garner missing, Benjamin Ambrose Fogarty was still wanted for questioning on a triple murder.

***

Ashley Garner had left her apartment soon after the debacle with the security case
. Afraid that the police might already be on their way, Mapperley had been obliged to give Brian Fox five hundred pounds of his own money to keep him quiet. Ashley had wandered around the flat, packing whatever was important to her into boxes which she then deposited with the twenty four hour porter. He was going to hold onto her boxes until she called him with a new address and instructions for sending her boxes on, but that had been this morning, and things were moving quickly.

Gavin Mapperley had been apprehended just before she took the first flight available
to her, which was to Rotterdam. She then had to take the train to Schiphol, about forty minutes away. Gavin’s wife had been in tears when she called Ashley, because the police were ransacking her house in the pursuit of evidence. They were also looking for the green Jaguar, but they wouldn’t find it. Ashley had instructed Gavin to take it to the chop shop in Neasden and take a taxi home from there. Now, as she waited at the gate, she knew that Dubai wasn’t an option, at least not yet. Gavin was weak; he would give up their bank accounts and their companies, even the address of her apartment, to save his own skin. Still, she mused, she had never made Dennis Grierson’s mistake of thinking one could buy loyalty.

In the short time between arriving at Schiphol and coming to the gate for her next flight
, she had looted her accounts online and transferred them to her emergency suspense account at Western Union. They were transferring the money to a Western Union branch close to her destination. That would give her a few thousand pounds to be going on with. She would need it, because her credit cards and mobile phone were now in a trash-can at the Burger King outlet.

The flight was called;
it was a long flight, taking her far away, and it would feel perhaps even longer than it really was, given that she could now only afford an economy seat. She stood and joined the boarding queue, gritting her teeth as the business class customers walked by and onto the upper deck of the Boeing 747.

Ashley consoled herself with the thought that she had one last chance of getting her money
, and unless she had overlooked something, her plan was foolproof.

New Scotland Yard, London.

Sunday 28th August 2011
; 4pm.

Ben and Max had been separated when they arrived at Scotland Yard. Max was a witness to the bloodbath at Carter’s Yard, which had claimed another death as one more thug succumbed to his injuries. Six were dead, two had lost limbs and one was in dire need of reconstructive facial surgery as soon as he was out of danger.

In the three weeks since the riots
, the North London criminal fraternity had taken a beating. Dennis Grierson and his cohorts were either dead or on remand, the TH Crew had been destroyed, several were in secure units, two were on remand and two more were in council care, awaiting appeals from their parents to have them home. The real power behind Grierson’s throne, Ashley Garner and Gavin Mapperley, were on remand or on the run, and their team were dead, disabled or running for the hills. The Trafalgar House Flats were as peaceful as they had been in those early days of the 1960s before the gangs had taken control, and this time the police were setting up a control office in one of the flats, to be manned full time. Assistant Commissioner Penelope Thomas appeared to have some pull, after all.

The Commissioner himself had taken the time to thank DCI Coombes, DCI Griffiths and four other senior offi
cers for their work. The two ACs received written commendations and the members of the Internal Affairs Bureau were less scorned than usual when they picked up three of Radlett’s colleagues for questioning.

No
one was looking too hard for a link between Metal Tokens, Hedo’s and Carter’s Yard, because Mapperley was in custody and Cresty Group’s accounts were in the hands of the National Crimes Agency.

Notwithstanding the high spirits amongst the officers who normally hated working on Sundays, there was a triple murder to be solved and the gangs taskforce had
yet to track down the rival gang who had wiped out Mapperley’s team, albeit forensics had turned up very little on site.

It was in this atmosphere that DCI Coombes and DS Scott sat opposite Ben Fogarty and
Damien Cresswell, his lawyer. Damien was speaking.

“Come along
, now, Detective Chief Inspector. How much longer are we going to indulge in this ‘danse macabre’? This is what we know. A wanted felon has told you that my client committed the three Rectory murders, and she has now run off to we know not where. My own suspicion is that she is looking for Osama Bin Laden’s real estate agent. We will never see her again, and I think you know it. You have no witness, and even if she was here, who would believe her? She was the leader of a criminal enterprise to match the Kray Twins. Ben, here, even by your witness’s evidence, was kidnapped and imprisoned in the house. He was found with a gun which had not, in fact, been fired, and which belonged to a known criminal, until his demise. On the other hand, you have your witness’s original statement, which was a pack of lies, by her own admission, and a boatload of forensic evidence tying her to the deaths. My client had no motive to kill these men, and no opportunity; they were dead when he found them.”

The la
wyer paused. “For heaven’s sake, my client called the police. Look, I do work for the Crown Prosecution Service, and they will never countenance a prosecution like this. The Metropolitan Police would be a laughing stock.”

Damien
sat back in his chair. DCI Coombes looked up at the video camera in the corner and shrugged his shoulders. A minute later the door opened and a uniformed officer entered.

“Assistant Commissioner Timothy Garrett
has entered the interview room,” DCI Coombes announced for the digital recorder whilst pressing the red button that imprinted the time on the recording.

“Mr Fogarty, Mr Cresswell.
DCI Coombes and DS Scott have submitted a report along the lines of your summation. They requested that we consider removing Mr Fogarty from the investigation as a person of interest and restore him to witness status. That has been agreed.

Evidence taken from a police forensic scientist
, and corroborated by an officer under investigation, suggests that one of our people was tasked by Mrs Garner’s colleagues to close down this investigation quickly. We can only assume that this was to distract us from pursuing Mrs Garner. However, Mr Fogarty, you have been in this country for less than a month and you have found yourself at the scene of multiple deaths twice, and at a drugs raid in Soho.”

Garret
t smiled at Ben’s surprised expression, and explained. “We have you on CCTV, standing in the crowd and laughing. Might I suggest that you head back to New Zealand and maybe find a young rugby team to coach for the upcoming season? You are welcome in the UK at any time, as a UK citizen, but we are busy just now with the aftermath of the riots and you seem to be able to create a mini riot wherever you go.”