Barry Maitiland - Spider Trap

‘That is true,’ Hart replied,‘but I was going to point to another limitation on privilege. If, as you say, you have evidence of specific criminal acts, which presumably could become the subject of a police investigation, then you are bound not to reveal information that might prejudice a later trial.’

Grant nodded and said,‘I have consulted with the Clerk of the Committee on this, and understand that I must not comment on matters currently before a court of law or where court proceedings are imminent. But that is not the case here. In fact, this brings us to a crucial issue and the reason why this committee must listen to what I have to say and must act upon it. The fact is that the irrefutable documentary evidence I have here was provided to me by sources close to the Roach family. When confronted by this evidence these sources rightly took it to the police, who declined to act upon it. Only then did they bring it to me, and one of the most serious questions that this committee must ask is why the authorities have refused to investigate. We are the last bastion of the truth, Madam Chair.We must not shirk our duty.’

More turmoil, Hadden-Vane shaking his gleaming pink head in disgust.

‘I think,’ Margaret Hart said loudly, ‘that we will move to private session to discuss the implications of this.’

‘Personally,’ Hadden-Vane came in again, ‘I would favour hearing Mr Grant’s so-called evidence in open session.We’ve had enough of his outlandish and irresponsible behaviour. Let him have his say and live by the consequences.’

‘All the same, I’m calling a ten-minute recess to consider this. Will all those who are not members of the committee please leave the room.’

After a moment the image on the screen was replaced by a blank background behind the words COMMITTEE IN PRIVATE SESSION.

Everyone in the office swivelled round to stare at Brock. He rubbed the side of his chin.‘Hm. I’d better tell one or two other people to watch this. Are we recording it by the way?’ He got to his feet and ambled out.

They had armed themselves with mugs of coffee by the time the image flicked back to the live picture from the committee room. They leaned forward together in the attentive way that screens carrying breaking news command. Margaret Hart briskly announced that they would hear Grant’s submission in open session, a decision that provoked a murmur of excitement from the committee room and clicks of disapproval from around the office.Brock watched impassively.

Grant reached for a bag beside his chair and produced copies of a document for each of the eleven members of the committee. As he began to lead them through it, Kathy realised that they had repackaged Tom’s material as a dramatic narrative, a blockbuster thriller.With the help of photographs, diagrams and maps, the MP introduced them to the route taken by cocaine smugglers from Colombia to Jamaica, showed them the Dragon Stout brewery in Kingston,a bottle of the malty beer,twenty-foot containers stacked at the Kingston Container Terminal, the container ship Merchant Prince ,which had brought the first consignment across the Atlantic, a Paramounts store in South London with cases of Dragon Stout on special offer and, finally, a chilling picture of blank-eyed crack-smokers in a derelict squat.

Grant also gave them copies of key documents supporting his accusations. His presentation was measured and unemotional until he came to the conclusion, a summary of the likely impact of the drugs on the people of South London.

Despite herself, Kathy was impressed, and so was the committee.When Hart called for discussion, Hadden-Vane’s attempt to find fault sounded like empty bluster. When he demanded that Grant reveal his sources, Grant neatly turned it into a further attack on the Roaches. He would not name his sources, he said, because they would be at serious personal risk,and to support this he would provide members of the committee with a list of criminal convictions of various members of the Roach family. Hadden-Vane seemed to realise that he was being outmanoeuvred,and after some heated debate around the table he proposed that discussion be suspended so that members could have time to study and digest Grant’s material over the weekend.Grant concurred,adding that he intended to bring to the committee at its next sitting, on the following Monday, a list of witnesses that he would ask the committee to call for interview under oath, including members of the Roach family.

As the committee moved back to their scheduled agenda, Dot appeared at the door. Her usual poise seemed ruffled.‘Brock,’ she said,‘Commander Sharpe on the phone.’

Brock got to his feet. ‘I’d like a transcript,’ he said. ‘But our priority is catching Sad Simon. Let’s concentrate on that.’

Later that afternoon Kathy got a call from Dot to say that Brock wanted to see her. He waved her to a seat.

‘Damage control. They’re going to keep mum to the press and try to nobble the committee chair, Margaret Hart, behind the scenes. I don’t fancy their chances. How far do you think Tom will go with this,Kathy? You know him better than I do.’

The coldness in Brock’s voice confronted her: Tom was the enemy now, the threat. She’d sensed that in the others’ murmured comments all morning, but coming from Brock she realised how absolute Tom’s betrayal had been.

‘I’m not sure. He was very angry after our meeting on Wednesday, and I haven’t seen him since. I’ve been trying to contact him but he won’t answer my calls.’

‘I don’t like to ask you to betray confidences, Kathy.’ He spoke slowly, eyes on a heavily marked-up copy of the webcast transcript lying on the table in front of him.‘But I need to understand what he’s doing. Is this some kind of elaborate professional suicide, or does he really think he can prove a point and come back to us covered in glory?’

All morning Kathy had been asking herself the same question. ‘I’ve had the impression, right from the beginning, that Tom felt he had to prove himself in some way. I mean in a personal, individual way, not just as part of the team. I didn’t realise it at first, but he wasn’t being open with me, not about what he was really thinking. He didn’t tell me about what he was planning with Magdalen until I came across a surveillance picture with the two of them together, and then he had to tell me. But he was desperate that nobody else should know until he’d pulled it off, and in the end I agreed, on condition I could go along as back-up. That was a big mistake, I know. I’m sorry. I really am, Brock. This is my fault.’

‘Divided loyalties,’ he murmured, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.‘It does for us all.’

‘I think it goes back to a problem at Special Branch. He had some kind of personality clash there.’

‘It was a bit more than that. He didn’t tell you?’

Kathy shook her head, puzzled.

‘A couple of years ago there was an IRA group operating in the UK, responsible for a series of big robberies up north. It was believed they were based in a neighbourhood in Liverpool. Tom had had some earlier experience on the IRA desk and it was decided to plant him and another officer, a woman, in the area, as a couple moving in as new teachers at the local school,he for PE,she for maths. They settled in, got to know their neighbours through their children. They’d worked together before, Tom and this woman, and they made a convincing couple. The trouble was that it became a little too real. After a time they announced that they were going to get married, and they did, inviting their neighbours to the party. Branch disapproved, but didn’t do anything. Then things went wrong. A new gang member came over from Ireland and recognised Tom. They did nothing at first, then one night they paid Tom and his wife a visit. Only Tom was away from home, reporting to his people in Manchester.When he got back he found his wife battered to death.’