The Murder Exchange (45 page)

'Any sign of the bodies? Franks and the others?'
'We're still searching that maggot farm but I'm
not optimistic. The maggots will have eaten all the
flesh and apparently the bones were ground down
afterwards. It seems they've done it with a few
people.'

'I bet they have. What about the knife in the
Robert Jones murder?' Merriweather had told us
that Joe Riggs had been at the Fowler murder
scene that night, and had retrieved the knife and
the tape from Fowler's briefcase while the nightclub
owner was being murdered. He had then
weighed down the objects in a strongbox, and
chucked them in the Thames.

'Nothing yet, but we're still looking.'

The think that's my only regret in all this,' I said,

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f I
'that we didn't get a chance to bring either Franks *

or Matthews to trial for the killing.'

'In a way it's better this way, isn't it? There
wasn't a huge amount of evidence against them.
They could easily have got off, and then the family
would have been devastated. At least now they
know that the people who took their son away have
paid a pretty heavy price.'

I wasn't so sure. All we had was Merriweather's
word for that. Maybe he'd been more heavily
involved than he'd let on, which would have
explained why he'd co-operated so quickly when it J
had become obvious to him that the police were on |
the scent. If so, he was going to get off scotfree. f

Malik asked me if I'd kept the family informed of
what had been going on. 'I have as much as
possible. I think they realize now that no-one's ever
going to go to prison for the murder but, like you
say, maybe it's better this way.' Not that I really
believed it.

'I'm going to have to buy you lunch sometime
soon,' said Malik. 'When things have settled a bit.
I'll give you a call, OK?'

'Sure,' I said, doubting if I'd be eating a slap-up
meal on SO7 for a while yet. That'd be nice.'

We said our goodbyes, and I walked into the
hospital entrance.

Iversson

I was sitting up in bed in my hospital room and
thinking about how I was going to get out of this

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situation. It didn't look good. They had two armed
coppers guarding me in shifts round the clock. I
was obviously a real VIP. Very Important Prisoner,
that is. One thing was for sure, I wasn't going to be
fighting my way out. Not only was I absolutely
fucking exhausted, I also had a minor blood infection,
and the wound in my shoulder was making
the use of my right arm next to impossible. I was
just going to have to front it and hope for the best.
I'd thrown the Clock into a wheelie bin in
Clerkenwell while I was on the way back to Elaine's
apartment on that final, fateful day when the bitch
had finally showed her true colours, so at least
there was no way that could be used against me.
Most of my co-conspirators were dead, and if
L,laine and whoever the gunman with her was
didn't break (and I had no reason to think they
would), I might just be able to scrape through
unscathed. I'd been taught anti-interrogation techniques
back in my army days so I was reasonably
confident I could hold my own, even in my
weakened state. As the days had passed and
my wounds had slowly healed, so my pecker battered
so badly (quite literally) by my experience
with Elaine, and Joe's betrayal - was finally going
back up again. I will tell you something about me: I
am nothing if not resilient.

I'd almost escaped, too, even after all the shit
those bastards had put me through. While Gallan
had been occupied by Elaine and the bloke with
her, I'd grabbed the holdall with the money, opened
up the window, and chucked it onto the roof of
a parked Audi before jumping out myself and

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landing arse-first on the holdall and the roof.
Unfortunately, in my haste, and due to my somewhat
disorientated state, I'd neglected to put any
clothes on and, though I'd made a manful bid for
freedom, limping naked along the street with near
enough half a million quid on my back, I was
always going to look a little bit too conspicuous to
be able to melt, commando-like, into my surroundings.
I did manage about two hundred yards,
though, with half a dozen coppers chasing me
Benny Hill-style on foot, before a vicar, of all rucking
people, who was cycling to his morning church
service, had leapt from his environmentally
friendly transport and rugby-tackled me from
behind. That was it, then. I'd had enough. With
even men of the cloth against me, I knew it was the
end of the road.

But since then I've perked up. You know what
they say: it ain't over till it's over. Believe it.

I leant over and picked up the book I was reading: How to Get Ahead in Business. You see, I was
thinking of opening my own survival school, and
after all that had happened there weren't going to
be many people better placed to teach survival than
me. It was going to have to be from scratch, of
course, now that the ransom money from the Holtz
job had been lifted by the forces of law and order,
but I knew it could be done.

There was a knock on the door and I looked up.
It was Gallan again, looking quite spruced up by
his standards, a smile on his face.

I tell you, I didn't trust that bastard one inch.

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Gallan

'Hello, Max/ I said, entering the room. I stopped at
the end of the bed. 'The doctors say you're healing
fast. Should be out of here in a few days.'

'That's right, and when I do, I don't want you lot
on my back. I've co-operated as much as possible
and I'm not saying anything else, apart from I don't
know what the fuck you're talking about with all
this kidnapping and killing lark. Is that clear?'

I smiled, used to Iversson's clumsy attempts at
putting me in my place. 'Clear as a bell.'

'Because I've got bigger fish to fry now/ He
showed me the book he was reading. How to Get
Ahead in Business. Somehow I didn't think Richard
Branson would be quaking in his boots. 'I've
always been legit, and that's how I intend to stay.
I've held up my hands to that assault on those
coppers who stopped me, but I was under duress at
the time. So, I'm hoping to get bail, and to start
again.'

'I don't think that's going to happen, Max.'

Iversson's expression hardened. It wasn't a
pretty sight. 'Why the fuck not? I haven't done anything.
If it's about that money, I had nothing--'

I held up my hand to quieten him. 'It's nothing to
do with the money you were carrying.' Looking
surprised, he stopped speaking. 'Max Iversson, I'm
here to inform you that you are under arrest at the
request of the German federal authorities who wish
to question you with regard to the murder on the
twenty-sixth of February 1993 of Elsa Kirsten
Danziger.'

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Iversson looked at me in utter disbelief, then
seemed to slump in the bed. 'I don't believe this.
You'll be blaming me for John F. fucking Kennedy
next.'

He really looked put out, and I might even have
been tempted to believe him if I hadn't already
heard that the sample of DNA taken from him in
the hospital a week earlier had been confirmed as
matching that of the killer. He was one of the better
liars I'd come across.

I turned slowly and walked away, thinking it was
ironic that we would probably never solve the
Matthews case, yet its investigation had almost
single-handedly provided the clues that had
successfully concluded so many others. As I
thought about Neil Vamen languishing in a cell of
his own design, it also proved my point that crime
might have been a viable short-term business
opportunity, but as a long-term career it was always
the wrong move. And as the technological aids
open to the police become more and more
advanced, so even the crimes of the short-timers
will come back to haunt them. Be sure your
past will always find you out, as a preacher might
say.

When I got back to the station, I went straight to
the Matthews incident room, now the incident
room for the investigation into the attempted
murder of eighteen-year-old Barry Sevringham,
knifed in the neck the previous night in a pub fight
in King's Cross. The world was already moving on,
as were the criminals, never ones to sit around.
Berrin was in there, as was WDC Boyd. Everyone

424

else, I assumed, was out talking to witnesses and
possible suspects. They both smiled at me as I
walked in, and I thought that Boyd was looking
good. She had red lipstick on, and it suited her. I
hadn't seen much of her these past couple of weeks
and it struck me then that I'd missed her company.
Maybe I'd see a bit more of her now we were working
on the same case. I hoped so.

'The DCI'd like to see you/ said Berrin, motioning
towards the office he'd been using for the
Matthews inquiry.

'Do you know what it's about?'

They both said they didn't, but I thought I saw
the traces of a smile on Boyd's red lips. I knocked
on the door and went in.

'John/ said Knox, who was sitting behind the
desk, 'come in and sit down.'

I did as I was told. 'What can I do for you, sir?' I
asked.

'Your work's been excellent these past few weeks/
he answered, and waited briefly for the obligatory
thanks, which he got, before continuing. 'Thanks in
no small part to your efforts, and your persistence
in the Matthews inquiry, it looks like we've got a
number of results. The north London underworld's
in a lot of trouble as a result of the dismantling of
the Holtzes, and it's particularly good to be able to
close the file on the Robert Jones case, and to give
his family some sort of opportunity to move on.
I've recommended to the superintendent that you
be commended for your work on the Jones case,
and I've also got a letter here from SO7 stating how
much help your work's been.'

425

'Thank you, sir. It's always nice to be
appreciated.'

'But that's not what I asked you in here for.'

'Oh?'

'I want you to know that I've also recommended
that you be considered for a DI post here at the
station, and that the recommendation's been
accepted.'

I allowed myself a smile. That's excellent, sir.
Thanks very much. I wasn't aware there was
actually a vacancy.'

'Well, an unexpected one's come up on this
team,' said Knox. 'DI Capper's asked for a transfer,
and he's moving on to another station.'

'Really? I thought he was very happy here.'

Knox didn't say anything for a moment, clearly
debating with himself how much it was worth
letting on. 'Suffice to say some information came in
from an anonymous source that didn't cast him in a
very positive light, and it seems that a number of
officers in the station are aware of it. He didn't
think his position here was tenable and he's
moving to another division next week. He's also
dropping back down to DS level.'

So, there was justice in this world, and, more
importantly, in the Metropolitan Police.

'Between you and me,' he added in a loud
whisper, 'it turns out he was something of a regular
visitor to Heavenly Girls, which put him in a bit of a
compromising position, and we can't afford that.
Better to get him out of the way rather than have the
embarrassment of him remaining here with everyone
knowing about it.'

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Somehow I managed to keep the smile off my
face. 'It's bad news losing such an experienced
officer/ I said worthily, remembering that it's
always best to play the game.

I wondered who it was who'd dobbed him in. It
was either Jean Tanner or Benin. Jean had told the
two of us when the tape had been off that he'd been
a long-standing and not particularly well-liked
customer at Heavenly Girls (apparently he had a lot
of difficulty getting it up, an unfortunate affliction
for which he tended to blame the girls). I suspected
that it might have been Benin. Just a hunch, but it
made sense. Jean was too much of a cold-blooded
pro. Me, I would have kept the information to
myself. You never know when it might have come
m useful.

So, you'll take up the post, then?'

Wild horses wouldn't have stopped me. 'Of
course I will, sir. When's it effective from?'

Knox smiled. 'Now,' he said. 'You're in charge of
the Barry Sevringham case. Here's what we've got
so far.'

Iversson

I never meant to kill her, thaf s all I can say. I'm
going to be pleading not guilty by reason of
temporary insanity, or whatever the defence is
these days. There was no way I was in the right
frame of mind when I bashed her head in that
night. I'd been driven mad by her constant
shagging of other men, and women, plus the fact

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1

i

that she didn't care one fucking whit that I knew S
about it. And that Johnny Hexham reckoned he had 1
girlfriend problems! He should have hung round
with Elsa for a few days. She went through bodies
like an overworked mortician. In the end, it just got
too much, I snapped, and the rest is history. It was
bad what I did, and I feel terrible about it, but I'm
not the only villain in all this. She brought a lot of it
on herself. And that Fenzer did smack her around a
bit earlier on that night, I saw him do it. I heard that
he often hit women, so he got what he deserved as
well, didn't he?

Anyway, who the fuck ever said life was fair?
Not Max Iversson, that's for sure. Never has been,
never will be.

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Epilogue

Max Iversson was charged with the kidnapping of
Krys Holtz, and is currently in custody awaiting
aial. He has also been charged in absentia with
the murder of Elsa Danziger, and is the subject of
extradition proceedings being brought by the
German government.

Neil Vamen was charged with murder, extortion
and importation of Class A drugs, and is currently
awaiting trial. None of the charges relate to the
events covered here.