‘Now hang on Sergeant …’ said Allen, holding up his hand to calm him down. ‘We needed to get all the facts together before we spoke to you.’
Jarvis moved forward and gestured towards the two other men in the room. ‘Terry, this is DCI Hayles and DS Jeffrey from Internal Investigations. They're here to try and sort out this mess.’
The taller of the men stood up. He was grey-haired but distinguished. His black suit was immaculate and he exuded authority and confidence. He held out his hand and smiled.
‘Colin Hayles,’ he said as Porter shook his hand. ‘Terry, listen, I have to say this so that we get off on the right foot. Despite what you think, I'm not here to put you inside for something you didn't do. I'm here to prevent that. But to do my job, I'm going to need your help, OK?’ Porter looked at him and nodded slowly. ‘Good. Right, now first you tell me how you heard about this?’
Allen motioned for Porter to sit down and he collapsed in the chair vacated by Hayles. ‘I just got a call from a journalist, the Express I think. There was a story in an Italian paper this morning. They're running it tomorrow but they've got more information.’
‘What information?’ pressed Hayles quietly.
‘Erm … they received something that says I killed Gary Fitchett. We had a fight and I stabbed him.’
Hayles nodded solemnly. ‘And he named you?’
‘Yes.’
Hayles stole a quick, and very anxious, look at Jarvis.
‘Is that all he said Terry?’
Porter shook his head. ‘I don't know. I put the phone down and came here.’
Hayles rubbed his chin and walked around the room for a few seconds. ‘OK Terry. Just to put you in the picture, let me tell you what we have already. Three days ago, an Italian newspaper received an anonymous letter which said that the second man injured in the stabbing incident in Rome was a British policeman working undercover. They contacted the Italian police and the NFIU for a comment but, obviously, no one gave them anything. Because of the murder inquiry, the police in Rome asked them not to run the story but for some reason, and we don't know why yet, they ran it this morning.’
Porter looked at him. ‘So when did you find out?’
Hayles gave him a rueful smile. ‘We were contacted by the Italian police as soon as they received the tip-off.’
‘And no one thought to tell me?’
‘We hoped it wouldn't get this far,’ chimed in Jarvis.
‘What, you knew as well? Well that's great. Thanks Guv. Thanks a fucking lot.’
Hayles held up his hand. ‘OK, let's keep this calm shall we?’ He looked around and then continued. ‘Over the last two days, four men have walked into various police stations around the country and made statements alleging that they knew the name of the man who killed Gary Fitchett.’
‘And they all named me, right?’ hissed Porter, his voice full of irony.
Hayles nodded. ‘Yes Terry. They all named you. Their versions are all slightly different, but in essence they all say the same thing. That Fitchett was taunting you with racist abuse and you attacked him with a knife.’
‘That's crazy,’ said Porter, looking around for support. ‘In case no one noticed, I was stabbed as well.’
Hayles gave a slight shake of his head. ‘They say that Fitchett also had a knife and fought back.’
‘And of course none of these mythical knives have turned up?’ said Porter sarcastically.
Hayles raised an eyebrow and carried on. ‘A number of knives were found in the bar but the Italians failed to treat it as a legitimate crime scene. They were simply gathered up and put with everything else that was seized over those few days.’
‘But why have these four come forward now?’ asked Porter desperately.
‘Two say that they were too frightened to come forward at first in case they were arrested; one says he hasn't been able to sleep with this on his conscience, and the fourth says that he's been on holiday and has only just heard about Fitchett dying.’
‘And you believe that bollocks?’
Hayles gave a thin smile. ‘It doesn't matter what I believe Terry. The fact of the matter is that they've come forward with information relating to a crime. No matter what the circumstance, it has to be taken seriously.’
‘What do we know about them?’ asked Allen.
Jarvis looked up from the floor and then stood up. ‘Well they weren't part of the crew we followed over,’ he said wearily. ‘But they were among those detained at the scene and deported.’
Porter shook his head and looked at the floor. ‘I don't fucking believe this.’
Hayles looked at him and sighed as Jarvis sat down again. ‘Look Terry, these four men are being interviewed again this morning but as yet, none of them have mentioned the fact that you are a copper.’ He glanced over at Allen and continued. ‘However, if what you say is true and someone has told the papers your name …’ His voice tailed off. ‘It can only be a matter of time before someone puts two and two together, right?’
Hayles nodded again. ‘We should be able to keep your name out the British papers though. For a while at least, but because the investigation will take place in Italy, that may not be possible.’
‘What investigation?’ asked Porter.
Hayles looked at him and sighed. ‘Terry, at some point, unless we can come up with something to discredit these statements, the Italians will have to charge you. If not with murder, with manslaughter.’
Porter sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. This wasn't happening.
‘But this can only have come from one person,’ said Jarvis. ‘It has to be Evans, it has to be.’
Hayles nodded his head in agreement. ‘I totally agree. I have no doubt that he was the person who contacted both the Italian and British press and that these four witnesses are lying through their teeth on his behalf. But that is going to be very difficult to prove. If we question him, all he has to do is say that he told someone else about Terry and that whole line of enquiry is over.’
‘Well whatever you say, we have to try,’ said Porter standing up.
‘No Terry.’ said Hayles quickly. ‘Not you. In light of what has happened, I have no option but to suspend you until further notice.’
‘What!’ shrieked Porter. ‘I haven't done anything! This is a bloody set-up!’
‘He has no choice Terry,’ said Allen calmly. ‘You know that.’
Porter looked around at the men in the room. Of the four of them, only Jarvis wouldn't make eye contact. He glared at him for a while and turned back to Hayles. ‘Be honest sir, how bad is this?’
The tall DCI looked him full in the eye as he spoke. ‘Bad Terry,’ he said solemnly. ‘It looks bad.’
Allen waited until Terry Porter had left the room before getting up and walking to the window. His office was silent except for the scribbling of DS Jeffrey, still making notes after the altercation with Terry Porter ‘What's the next step Colin?’ he asked.
Hayles sniffed and sat down. ‘As I see it, we're dependent on getting one of these statements withdrawn. But you know as well as I do, if these lads stick to their story, then there's nothing we can do.’ He scratched the side of his nose and looked across at Jarvis. ‘With the press involved, there's no way we can cover this up. The Italians will have to charge him.’
Jarvis shook his head angrily. ‘But these four are well known …’
‘Don't be so bloody naive,’ Hayles said angrily. ‘That won't make any difference in court. These are four independent statements given at four separate stations in different parts of the country. The fact that these people have a history of hooligan activity is for the most part irrelevant.’ He glared at Jarvis. ‘I have to say this. Inspector, the way this operation has been handled has been very haphazard.’
Allen spun around angrily. ‘Now hang on…’
‘No Peter …’ interrupted Hayles. ‘Firstly, this operation should have been stopped and handed to Special Branch right from the outset. Seco
ndly, the fact that Fitchett used Terry's real name was asking for trouble.’
‘We had no choice,’ said Jarvis. ‘That's what he used to introduce him to Evans. After that, it was too late.’
Hayles paused for a while and took a deep breath. ‘Finally, Terry Porter should never have been allowed to come into contact with Evans while he was being questioned. It goes against every rule in the book. And to be brutally frank, those rules were designed to prevent situations exactly like the one we are faced with now.’
Allen sighed and sat down. Hayles was right of course. They'd dropped Porter right in it.
‘So what can we do now?’ asked Jarvis sadly. ‘
Hayles shook his head. ‘My lads will go over the whole operation with a fine-tooth comb and see if we can discredit these witnesses. I'll also want to speak to the men that Porter thinks actually carried out the attack on Fitchett.’
‘The Chelsea lads,’ said Jarvis.
Hayles nodded. ‘I'll only speak to Evans if I'm getting nowhere, but if he's as good as you say he is …’
The shrug of his shoulders said it all and Allen tapped his fingers on his desk in frustration. ‘How bad is it Colin?’ he asked quietly.
Hayles sniffed and glanced out of the window. It was the first time he'd spoken to anyone without having eye contact. ‘The Italians will want to question him of course. But given this evidence, I have no doubt they will charge him with manslaughter. Possibly even murder.’ He turned his gaze away from the window and stared mournfully at Allen and then at Jarvis. ‘Because if I were in their position, that's exactly what I would do.’
Chapter 26
Tuesday, 8 February 2000
14.45
Terry Porter sat down and tried to take in what he had just heard. No, it couldn't be right. He wasn't guilty. He hadn't done anything. How could they have found him guilty? He looked across the courtroom at Hayles but he simply stared back, his face showing no emotion but shouting volumes. Next to him sat Jarvis, avoiding eye contact altogether. The bastard had done for him and he knew it. Terry closed his eyes and reflected on the last three days. Hoping he'd got it all wrong, that this was a dream. No, a nightmare. And he'd soon wake up and it would all be over. He'd be at home or in the office. Wading through dishes or paperwork. Either seemed equally attractive right now. He opened his eyes but it wasn't a dream at all. It was real. Very real.
He sighed and tried to work out where it had all gone wrong. The prosecution had wheeled in the four so-called witnesses, smartly dressed young men who had taken it in turns to lie through their teeth about him and what had happened. Telling the court that he and Gary had fought with knives in the bar and that he had struck the fatal blow. All lies. But they had believed it because they'd been arrogant and cocky and the defence hadn't rattled them at all. Then Jarvis had been called. Telling them all about the operation but admitting that the team hadn't been able to see him inside the bar. Admitting that yes, it was possible that he could have stabbed Fitchett even though he couldn't believe ail officer on his team was capable of such a thing. And then the piece de resistance. They'd called Billy Evans to the stand. What a joke that had been.
Porter had listened while he told his side of the story. How he had planned the trip and how they had all travelled down together. But adding that Fitchett was a racist, and he and Porter had been arguing all the time. And how he had even had to pull them apart once, on the bus into Rome. The prosecution had then asked him to tell the court what had happened when he had got back to England. And he had told everyone how he had been arrested for conspiracy and how the police had thought he was the kingpin of the England crew, even though they had no evidence to back up either allegation. And then how they had been so desperate to charge him with something, they had even made up a story that he had tried to steal his own cars. Evans had made it sound so stupid even the Italian judge had laughed.
And then the clincher. They asked him if he knew who killed Gary Fitchett and he said he did. That it was Terry Porter. He had known all along. Someone had told him that there'd been a fight between Fitchett and Porter after he left the bar that night and that the two men had stabbed each other. But when he'd come back and been arrested, he hadn't said anything because he had believed he was already in serious trouble so why make things worse for himself? And then, when they had brought in Porter and told him he was an undercover policeman, he had been convinced that they would try to pin it on someone else or cover it up altogether. They were capable of anything at the NFIU. Everyone who went to football in England believed that. After all, they had waged a vendetta against him for years and had already tried to charge him with a crime that hadn't even taken place. Terry Porter had listened while Evans had spouted one lie after another and no one had challenged him. They'd fallen for every word and now he was going to an Italian prison. Convicted of manslaughter. A nightmare.
Billy Evans stood in the foyer of the courthouse and did up his Burberry jacket. It was freezing outside and the last thing he needed was a cold before his holiday next week. He looked up as a young woman walked over to him and smiled.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, her voice happy but with a hint of desperation. ‘My name's Beverly Mills, from Sky News. I was just wondering if you had any comment to make about the case.’
Evans looked at her and smiled. ‘Sorry luv,’ he began. ‘But it's going to appeal you know. I can't really say anything.’
Her smile faded a little and then returned. ‘All I need is a general comment, nothing specific. For the news tonight.’
Evans smiled again and then looked over her shoulder as Jarvis came out of the court. His face was deathly white and, noticing Evans standing there, he veered over towards him.
‘One day Evans,’ he hissed angrily. ‘One day I'll have you for this you lying bastard.’
Evans looked at him and gently shook his head, his expression an odd mix of sorrow and pity. ‘It's called justice, Inspector.’
Jarvis's face was suddenly scarlet with rage and he almost leapt forward but checked himself. Evans stared at him, one eyebrow raised and a faint smile on his lips. They both knew he had shafted the system but there was no way Jarvis would ever get to prove it. Even if he survived the investigation he was destined for other things. Well away from football.
‘Have you met Beverly, Mr Jarvis?’ he asked politely. ‘She's from Sky News. We're just about to have a little chat.’
Jarvis took a deep breath and, without another word, turned on his heels and stormed through the doors and out into the cold. Evans watched him go and turned back to the young woman. A broad smile spread across his face like a naughty schoolboy. ‘Bloody hell,’ he said. ‘He was a bit angry wasn't he?’
The woman let out a short laugh. ‘He has good reason to be. Word is that he's just been suspended and the NFIU are being disbanded.’
Evans gave the door a short, final glance. ‘Is that right?’ he said thoughtfully, turning back to face the eager young woman. ‘OK, you want a statement, I'll give it to you. Are there any other reporters out there?’
The woman nodded. ‘Plenty. This is a big story Mr Evans.’
Evans smiled. ‘Let's go then.’
He walked over towards the door but she grabbed him. ‘Could you do it just for us first?’ she pleaded.
He shook his head. ‘No. What I've got to say won't take long and I'll only say it once.’ He shook her off and burst through the doors into the cold.
At the bottom of the steps in front of the court, a large group of reporters were gathered, interviewing anyone who came out of the court-house, desperate to get a fresh angle on the story. They began calling out to him and he walked directly over to them, the young reporter trailing desperately in his wake. He stopped at the bottom of the steps and surveyed the scene. A dozen microphones were held out in front of him and the place was illuminated by a bank of bright lights. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
‘I have a statement to make if that's all
right,’ he said, looking around to make sure he had everyone's attention. ‘In this court over the last few days, you have heard the truth about the British police force. How they coerce people into working for them, how they lie, cheat, try to fabricate evidence and how … yes, how they try to cover up the actions of their own officers.’
He took a deep breath and carried on. ‘You heard what went on in that courtroom. If it hadn't been for the courage shown by the people who gave evidence, this murder would have gone unsolved and the policeman responsible would have gone unpunished.’ He paused for a second and looked around. ‘The tragedy for Britain is that it took an Italian court to expose that crime.’
He stopped speaking and the place erupted with questions. ‘Have you anything to say about the disbandment of the NFIU Mr Evans?’ shouted one of the reporters.
Evans held up his hand to quieten things down before he spoke. ‘I'm sorry. I have nothing further to say other than that I would just like to go home and get back to work.’ He put his head down and thrust his way through the crowd. Within seconds, he was free of them and headed towards a row of yellow taxis parked by the side of the road. He climbed into the first one, gave the driver the name of his hotel and settled back into his seat as the car sped away from the kerb, past the throng of reporters and into the chaos of the Rome traffic. Within a few seconds, the car was anonymous, just one of thousands.
Billy let a broad smile drift across his face and pulled out his mobile phone. He keyed in the number and waited until a female voice came on the line. ‘Hello love, it's Billy … Yeah, it went exactly how I said it would. I'll be home in a few hours. We'll go out and celebrate tonight. I've had a right result.’ He turned the phone off and settled back in his chair.
‘Oh yes,’ he said out loud to himself. ‘A right fucking result.’
Also from Dougie Brimson
Top Dog – the sequel to The Crew
Sometimes it's not the law you have to worry about