Death By Dangerous (12 page)

He opened his iPad and read the list of suspects:

The conference with Hussain had given Anderson's paranoia some credence. Was it really possible he'd been set up? Worse still, had someone tried to murder him?

And if so, was that person on the list?

Tahir Hussain made a detour on his way home. Waqar Ahmed had asked for a meeting. The Little Taj, a sit-down restaurant on the Curry Mile was another of Ahmed's businesses. A much bigger concern than the Kashmiri Palace; Ahmed used a relative as a dummy director.

The waiters greeted Hussain with much pomp and ceremony. He was something of a celebrity as far as Ahmed's crew were concerned.

‘I'm not here to eat. I need to see Mr Ahmed.'

‘Of course, Mr Hussain,' replied one of the waiters in Punjabi, showing the solicitor to a stool at the bar.

A waiter handed him a bottle of Cobra. ‘Please, on house.'

Hussain left the drink but reached into some mints on the bar, then thought better of it, remembering he'd read in some magazine that they were always covered in different people's piss – customers who hadn't washed their hands.

Several minutes later Ahmed appeared with outstretched arms. ‘Tahir Hussain, the best lawyer in Manchester. I'm honoured by your visit. Come, my friend, sit down.'

Hussain followed him to a table in a secluded corner. A waiter quickly removed the cutlery, leaving only a fraying red table cloth and two paper napkins folded into swans. Hussain sat down opposite his best client. He loathed having to associate with the man. Ahmed was like a cancer: once he had a hold over someone, he would gradually spread into every aspect of their life. Hussain wasted no more time on formalities: ‘You wanted to see me, Waqar?'

‘Yes, to see how it's going and to congratulate you.'

‘Congratulate me?'

Ahmed sniggered. ‘On getting him to accept you as his brief. Can't have been easy.'

Ashamed of his duplicity, Hussain forgot himself. ‘Someone beat the crap out of him. Was that you?'

Ahmed didn't give an answer. ‘Does he have a defence to killing those people?'

Hussain ignored the question but posed one of his own: ‘Did you have something to do with what happened in that car?'

Ahmed's expression twisted into one of anger, then contempt. ‘You dare to come into my restaurant and ask me that?'

No going back now: ‘Well, did you?'

Ahmed leaned across the table. ‘Just make sure you lose.'

‘What?' Hussain's mouth went dry. ‘That wasn't part of the deal. You said just get the brief. Tell you what's going on. Nothing bent. I won't lose it on purpose. I can't do that to him.'

‘Then I think it's time for you to pay back my money.'

‘You know I haven't got it.'

‘You've got two choices: get my money, or lose the trial. Understood?'

There was nothing else to say.

Hussain got up to leave.

What the hell was he going to do?

Standing in front of total strangers in a pair of pyjamas was extremely difficult for John Anderson, but he had to go through with it.

Professor Cutler didn't notice his patient's blushes. His own attire was entirely functional. Reading glasses hanging on string so as to prevent misplacement, over a white coat; all pockets stuffed with pens, a thermometer and a ruler. Having studied some apparatus and twiddled a few knobs, he instructed Anderson to lie on the bed, then placed some belts across Anderson's abdomen and chest. ‘This procedure is called a polysomnography. Please try and relax.'

A nurse attached electrodes to Anderson's face and scalp whilst the doctor continued to explain. ‘We are testing you for a condition called sleep apnoea. You need to try and sleep until morning.'

‘What are the symptoms?' Anderson asked, trying to take his mind off his predicament.

‘Well, it's a sleep disorder characterized by abnormal pauses in breathing. Each pause can last as long as a few minutes.'

‘I'm sure I'd know if I had it.'

‘You'd be surprised. The sufferer is often unaware. He becomes conditioned over time to daytime sleepiness and fatigue. Becomes the norm, you see.'

‘So, if I've got it I could have fallen asleep whilst driving, without realising I was tired?'

‘Exactly! Giving you a defence which you lawyers call non-insane automatism.'

‘How likely is it that I've got it?'

The doctor smiled. ‘We'll have to wait for the results but it's more common than you might think. Studies have shown that one in six of Britain's 100,000 lorry drivers are undiagnosed sufferers. A terrifying thought, don't you think?' He finished attaching the last few electrodes. ‘Sweet dreams, Mr Anderson.'

Anderson stared up at the ceiling, afraid to move. It reminded him of when he woke up in hospital after the crash. The memory of it made him anxious; Mia crying. Were her tears for him, or the life she was losing? Thoughts whirring around; his head was crammed.

John Anderson prayed for sleep.

Adey lit another cigarette to break the monotony and jiggled about to stop the frozen night from settling in her bones. She had a good view of Anderson's house from her vantage point at the end of the garden. A Victorian semi. She'd expected something even grander for a barrister. She'd been amazed to hear how little Anderson had actually been earning over the last few years, unaware that the cuts in legal aid had hit barristers so hard. And the size of the mortgage. Perhaps Mia had been disappointed? Adey had to stop herself feeling sorry for Anderson. But the case was drawing her in. Why had Sam Connor gone back to Starbucks? Why was there no evidence about Heena Butt and who she was?

Her mind wandered. Thoughts of her brother, Bahdoon. It made her sad. She'd seen him that morning, as she did every month. Anything more was too painful, watching his life waste away. Each visit, he seemed a little more detached, his eyes a little more lifeless. She'd preferred the rage and resentment of the early years of his sentence. Now there was only resignation.

A light came on in the upstairs bedroom. The man who had arrived in a taxi an hour earlier clearly wasn't going anywhere. Adey couldn't wait all night, she was freezing. Time to make a move.

She slipped silently through the hedge and across the lawn. Effortlessly, she shinned up a drainpipe and onto the garage roof, then padded over to the window and peeked through the gap allowed by the curtains.

Adey wanted to giggle − a woman on all fours, on a bed. Velvet-covered handcuffs attached her to the bedposts. Mia Anderson was a handsome woman, with a firm body. At thirty-five she definitely still had it.

‘Fuck me,' she snarled repeatedly to the man kneeling behind her, thrusting with all his might.

Only able to see part of his face, Adey didn't recognise him. She couldn't risk a photo − the flash might reveal her presence.

Did Anderson fuck Mia like that? She quickly dismissed the thought. No man had managed to get close to Adey Tuur, and John Anderson certainly wasn't going to be the exception.

Anderson had been looking forward to this day all week. Even Mia's indifference couldn't dampen his spirits. Their conversation on the doorstep went no further than a succession of orders concerning the boys' care and return.

They took the train from Wilmslow, changing at Crewe for Chester. He'd never spent a full day alone with his children before. It seemed crazy to him now. How did he let that happen?

Today Anderson felt alive – even happy. For a few hours he forgot about the case. Will and Angus were giddy with excitement. Their first visit to the zoo.

The reticence of the larger animals to come out of their cosy retreats into the chill of the open air didn't spoil the fun, it became a source of amusement. Anderson hadn't enjoyed himself so much in years. He'd missed out on all this, and for what? Bigger cases and longer hours. Why had it all been so important to him? Was it just his father's expectations, drilled into him from an early age? A poor substitute for love?

Angus was mesmerised by the chimpanzees. ‘Mum says that'll be you soon.'

‘What do you mean?' Anderson asked, studying his son's pained expression.

‘In a cage, locked up.'

No point denying it. For the first time, he considered it as a real possibility. His children had to prepare for the worst. ‘I don't know yet, Angus, but if I do get locked up, I will think about you every day until they let me out.'

‘Have you done something very bad? Is that why they want to lock you up?'

Will watched his father intently. The boys needed answers just as much as Anderson.

‘I can't remember what happened. I really can't.' He put his hand on his chest. ‘But I know in here, in my heart, that I didn't do anything wrong.'

‘I believe you, Dad,' Will whispered.

‘So do I,' said Angus.

What a fool he'd been. Priorities all wrong. He knelt down and hugged them. Was it too late to make things right?

They decided to finish the outing with a ride on the monorail that weaved its way around the zoo above the enclosures. Angus pointed out the black rhinos and lions below, once they'd set off from monkey island. ‘Who's that, Daddy?'

Anderson's eyes searched the path below where Will was pointing. A man in a woolly hat waving up at them. Anderson tried to make out the face – disfigured. Tredwell!

Tredwell pointed directly at them with his hand shaped into a gun, then moved his arm as if firing it.

Angus laughed and fired back.

Will sensed something wasn't right. ‘I don't like that man, Dad. I want to go home.'

Anderson quickly shepherded the children out of the zoo, checking around them on their journey back. Will kept asking about the man with the strange face. Anderson made light of it, saying he was just a crazy old fool. What was he doing there? Was it a coincidence or had he been following them? And what could he have against the barrister who prosecuted the man that caused his horrendous injuries?

He decided not to mention it to Mia. Why worry her? No point overreacting. The kids couldn't be in any danger. He'd wait until he knew more.

Once he'd dropped them off he rang Hussain, who told him to come to his house in Longsight after he'd reported the matter to the police. A record had to be made.

Anderson called in at the police station and asked for DI Taylor, who couldn't have been more disinterested. Only after a great deal of persuasion did he formally record the matter. The detective inspector tried to convince him it had been an unfortunate coincidence and a bad joke.

Privately, Taylor wondered whether this was a clever ruse by Anderson to blame everything on Tredwell, and to prove to the jury threats had been made, but he agreed to investigate. A part of him couldn't help but feel sorry for Anderson. He took no pleasure in destroying the life and career of a decent family man over a few seconds of bad driving. That wasn't why he'd joined the force all those years ago.

It was after nine o'clock by the time Anderson arrived at Hussain's house. An end terrace on three floors, extended at the back, it had a warm, lived-in feel. Hussain's wife insisted on preparing some food.

Anderson didn't protest.

Hussain showed him into the lounge where they sat down and analysed Tredwell's actions. Anderson was at a loss to understand them.

‘Maybe he blames you for Ahmed's acquittal?' suggested Hussain. ‘If you hadn't crashed your car, Ahmed would be inside.'

Anderson wasn't convinced. ‘He'd have to be crazy to think like that.'

‘He is.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘He's been in and out of psychiatric institutions all his life. Got a history of schizophrenia.'

‘How do you know that? Don't tell me you accessed his medical records?'

Hussain scoffed. ‘Never mind that. You should've disclosed it!'

‘I didn't know!'

‘I'm sure the police did. They probably didn't tell you because you would've disclosed.'

‘What else didn't I know?' asked Anderson.

‘Quite a lot actually. Tredwell was a very manipulative and mysterious figure. The whole Naila story was bullshit.'

‘Really? What about the 999 call?'

‘Who knows? One of the girls probably saw what was going on at the Kashmiri Palace, or overheard what was going to happen and saw an opportunity to get her captors arrested. Whoever she was, she disappeared because we couldn't trace her. And anyway, Martin Tredwell isn't into women.'

‘How do you know?'

‘Adey hacked into his email account.'

‘What? You didn't! That's an outrageous breach of data protection legislation!'

‘Yeah,' Hussain replied matter-of-factly. ‘That's why we couldn't use it in the trial.' He decided not to divulge anything else until Anderson asked. He didn't have to wait long.

‘Well go on then, what did she find out?'

‘Tredwell is into boys. A paedophile. Grooming and file sharing with other sickos.'

Anderson took a moment to digest the latest revelations. ‘So, are you saying Waqar Ahmed is innocent?'

‘No, I'm sure he shoved Tredwell's face in that fryer, but it was more likely an argument between business partners. Tredwell wasn't a joey, he was much more involved in the trafficking than he let on.'

‘So we add him to our list of suspects?'

‘Yes. Trouble is, he's in witness protection. Not even Adey would be able to locate him.'

Safa came in and guided Anderson to the kitchen table where she had placed an assortment of Indian dishes. Anderson helped himself to some lamb keema and a roti. The first decent meal he'd eaten for a long time.

Hussain sat in silence, watching him devour the feast. Once he'd finished, Hussain broke the bad news. ‘I've got the experts' reports, John. They found nothing. No sleep disorder. No evidence of a seizure or anything medical.'

Anderson took it in. ‘And the accident investigator?'

‘Not good. Everything is consistent with sleep. The drifting, no braking, et cetera. I can't serve any of our reports. They're all damning. I'll just have to cross-examine the prosecution experts, see what I can turn up.'

Anderson felt deflated. They still didn't have the slightest foundation for a defence.

‘We've also got the problem of Sandra Granger,' Hussain added. ‘I'm going to have to put it to her that she's either lying or mistaken.'

Anderson puffed out his cheeks. ‘The jury won't like that.'

‘What else can I do?' Hussain's mobile rang. ‘Excuse me, a client.' He left the room to take the call.

Anderson and Safa exchanged nervous smiles in the way people do when virtual strangers are left alone in a room together. Despite her generosity, Anderson sensed resentment. A feeling she didn't want him there. Perhaps something needed saying?

‘I'm so grateful to Tahir for defending me. I was never very nice to him, you know?' Anderson's sense of shame was obvious. ‘I can't understand why he is doing so much to help me. He's a good man.' Anderson noticed a photo on the dresser. The whole family: Mum, Dad, two girls and a boy. He remembered seeing the girls with Hussain on the day of the crash. ‘I didn't know you had a son too?'

The question caught her by surprise.

Hussain's reappearance diverted their attention.

‘There's something you need to know, John,' said Hussain. ‘It's a bit delicate.'

Safa took her cue to leave the room.

Anderson was intrigued.

‘It's about Mia,' Hussain said gently.

‘Go on.'

‘She's seeing someone.'

‘What? Who?'

‘I don't know. Adey saw her with someone. She didn't recognise him.'

‘How does she know they are actually
seeing
each other?'

‘They were having sex.'

Anderson stared at Hussain in disbelief.

‘Adey was on your garage roof, looking through the window.'

Anderson placed a hand on his forehead. ‘Why was Adey there?'

‘As part of her investigations. Whoever this man is, he has to be considered a suspect.'

Anderson's mouth was dry. Mia with another man? So soon after the split? ‘What did he look like?'

‘Couldn't say. Her view wasn't great. We'll find out soon enough, John. I'm sorry.'

Anderson was shell-shocked. In no mood for further discourse, he left.

He didn't know his wife at all.