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Banks nodded.
“Then there was the matter of the money to be made. Anyway, Motcombe got paranoid, especially as Jason had gained a lot of respect in the movement and people looked up to him for guidance and leadership. Jason was fast becoming a loose ca
“What happened?” Banks asked.
Mark ran his hand over his head. “Like Motcombe asked, I talked to Wes and I told him Jason was involved in the Turkish end of the deal and that he was pla
“There’s always a choice, Mark.”
“Right. Sure. Easy for you to say that. It came down to me over Jason. Sheri and Co
“Who came up with the plan?”
“That was down to me. You know the rest. Motcombe wanted it done out of the way. I mean, he knew you’d find out who the victim was eventually, and what organization he belonged to, but he needed time to get his files out of Jason’s house. He sent two of his blokes to do that. Anyway, Scattered Dreams were playing in Eastvale and Jason had mentioned possible trouble with some Pakistani kids who went there. Told me he’d already chucked a brick through one of their windows. It couldn’t have been better.”
“What about the actual killing? How did it happen?”
Wood swallowed. “Frankie and Wes were waiting at the other end of the gi
“All right, Mark,” said Banks. “Calm down. Tell me, what happened when we first arrested you? Why did you change your story?”
Mark shifted in his chair. “Well, the evidence. It was getting pretty strong against me. I was up shit creek. So when Varney took me aside, I phoned Motcombe and basically explained the situation.”
“What did he say?”
“To tell you it was just a fight between the two of us, to leave him out of it, and he’d see I got the best legal help available. He’d also take care of Sheri and Co
“But he didn’t know that.”
“No. And I didn’t tell him.”
“Have you talked to him from jail?”
“A couple of times. But even then he seemed very nervous.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Getting my story right when it came to court.”
“Did you talk to Devon?”
“No. He’s keeping a low profile. I phoned my brother-in-law, though, Wes.”
“What did you talk to him about?”
“I told him who Mr. H was, where he lived. Just in case something went wrong and Motcombe didn’t keep up his end of the bargain. You know, like maybe when he did find out Sheri’s black and all, then he wouldn’t help them. I needed some sort of insurance.”
“Okay, Mark, I need to know just one more thing before we start taking fresh statements and making this all official.”
“Yes?”
“Will you testify that Neville Motcombe instigated this conspiracy to murder Jason Fox?”
Wood’s lips curled. “Motcombe? Bloody right I will. No way that bastard’s going to get away with it.”
“And Devon?”
Mark looked away. “I don’t know. That’s different. I’d need some sort-”
“We’ll see you and family are protected, Mark, like I told you earlier.”
“I’ll think about it. Okay?”
“Okay.” Banks smiled. “I think that just about wraps it up for now. Thanks, Mark, you’ve been a great help.”
“What happens to me now?”
“You make your official statement, then you go back to Armley. Eventually, there’ll be committal proceedings and a trial, but we’ll cross those bridges when we get to them. In the meantime, we’ll make sure you’re protected.” Banks looked at his watch. Just after three-thirty. Then he turned to Ken Blackstone. “For the moment, though, I think it’s about time we paid Mr. Motcombe another visit.”
IV
Leaving one of Blackstone’s most trusted DCs to take Mark Wood’s official statement, Banks and Blackstone set off in the Cavalier for Motcombe’s house. Most of the journey, they talked about getting enough evidence together for the CPS to take on Motcombe.
“I’m still not sure about this,” Banks said, driving along through Pudsey. “I can’t help feeling I’m jumping the gun. How bloody long’s Motcombe likely to get for conspiracy to commit murder? That’s assuming we can prove it. Giles Varney will whittle it down to conspiracy to assault, if he’s got any brains. We might be better off leaving him to the Drugs Squad. He’d get longer for dealing heroin. And I promised Craig McKeracher I’d wait till I had something really solid before I moved in.”
Ken Blackstone shook his head. “At this point, I don’t think we have much choice. We’ve got evidence we have to act on. Mark Wood has actually named Motcombe as one of the blokes who requested Jason Fox’s murder. Now Wood’s blurted it all out, we have to go ahead. I don’t think he’ll get such a light sentence. And this way we also get Wes and Frankie in the bargain, and maybe even Devon, too. That’d be a real plus.”
“Maybe so,” said Banks. “I hope you’re right.”
“Besides,” Blackstone added, “I’d say we’re best getting Motcombe off the streets as soon as possible. And none of what we’re doing blows Craig McKeracher’s cover. What we’ve got all came from Mark Wood.”
Banks turned down the hill to Motcombe’s house and they got out of the car. The sky was clear and the country-side shone green and gold and silver. A chill wind from the valley whistled around their ears as they stood and knocked at the front door.
No answer.
“What’s that noise?” Blackstone asked.
Straining his ears, Banks could detect a faint whining above the sound of the wind. “Sounds like an electric drill or something. He must be down in the workshop. That’s why he can’t hear us.”
“Let’s try the back.”
They walked around to the back of the house, which over-looked the valley and parkland. The sound of the drill was louder now.
Banks hammered on the back door. Still nothing. Just on the off chance, he tried the doorknob. It opened.
“Mr. Motcombe!” he called out as the two of them walked down the stairs to the workshop. “We’re coming in.” He began to feel a slight shiver of trepidation. It looked dark at the bottom, and they could be walking into a trap. Motcombe could have a Kalishnikov or an Uzi with him. He might be hiding in a dark corner ready to start blasting away at them.