Frame-Up (34 page)

When Mrs. Garland wants to rush to her husband, I step in front of her.
"Your husband is all right. He only has a bloody nose. Nothing will
happen to him. You now go and reassure your daughters. I will call the
police and an ambulance for my brother, who was shot by your husband.
When the ambulance comes, please open the gate for them."

Her gaze briefly goes to Carlo and then returns to me, confusion and
fear in her eyes.

"Please, Mrs. Garland. Your daughters are distressed. Please, go to
them. They need you, and take the dog along, please."

With a last quick glance at her husband, she grabs the dog by its collar
and leaves, closing the door. I call 999 and inform the operator that there
is an injured male with a bleeding gunshot wound at the Garland address,
all the while keeping Garland in sight, but he remains where he is,
holding a handkerchief to his nose. Then I retrieve Willis’ number, which
I stored in the memory of the iPhone on the day of my arrest. He answers
on the fifth ring.

"Willis."

"Cecilia Walker, sir. Sorry for bothering you off duty. There has been
a shooting at the home of Fred Garland of Lewis Stockbrokers. Only a
flesh wound. I’ve already called the ambulance. I also have uncovered
evidence of who is behind the fraud for which you arrested me. Will you
please come and join me at the Garland residence in Hampstead Heath.
It’s crucial that it be you."

He remains silent for several seconds. "What’s the address?"

"Will you come yourself, please?"

"Yes, I will."

I give him the address and the land line number, which I read off the
phone on Garland’s desk.

I have a quick look at Carlo’s wound. The bullet has ripped an ugly
gash in his right upper arm without touching the bone. It’s still bleeding
badly. I find a reasonably clean handkerchief in his trouser pocket and
wrap it tightly around the wound, telling him to hold it in place. These are
the first words I speak to him. He wants to get up.

"No, Carlo, you too stay where you are, and don’t try any tricks. You
know how fast I am."

He grins, embarrassed.

Next I go to the window I ripped open and slowly pull in the line
connecting the directional microphone to the tape recorder, hoping that
the gadget won’t snag on an obstacle or the wire come loose, again
keeping a vigilant eye on Garland. I retrieve the tape recorder and place
both on the far side of the desk. It is still recording.

"Get up," I order Garland.

He rises slowly, his eyes on the gun in my hand, while growling: "I’ll
have you arrested for breaking and entering, you and your druggie
brother. You’ll not get away this time."

I ignore him. "Open the safe."

"I have no safe at home. All my important documents are in the office
safe."

"According to your wife, you have a safe here. Open it."

"I …"

I point the gun at him and pretend to pull the trigger. I have no
intention of firing the gun, only to frighten him. It works.

"Don’t," he exclaims. "It’s behind the books. There is no money in it."

"You know exactly what I’m after and it’s not money. Don’t play
dumb. Open it."

He goes to the middle section, presses a button and slowly swings out
a three-foot wide section. It reveals a built-in safe in the wall behind.

"Disarm it."

"It’s not armed."

It doesn’t really matter if it is. ADTSecurity will first call his cell
phone to confirm. I watch him turn the dials. After the third reverse he
pulls the lever down and the safe door snaps open.

"Place all its content on the desk, slowly."

"There is nothing in there of interest to you. All just private documents
and papers, birth certificates."

"Why do I have to repeat everything twice? Place the contents on the
desk, now!" The last word sounds like a gunshot. He startles
involuntarily, and then moves several boxes and folders on the desk. "Sit
in this chair." I point to one of the chairs in front of the desk. "You may
turn it over first to shake off the glass splinters." He does.

At that point, his cell phone rings. He rises to grab it from the desk. I
just point the gun at him and he sinks back into the chair. I answer with
"Mrs. Garland" — a precaution to dupe the caller. It is ADTSecurity
asking for Mr. Garland.

"Just a moment, I’ll pass him to you."

I go to Garland, holding the microphone opening tightly to my thighs,
press the gun into his temple and whisper: "You know what to answer."

He does, with a slight tremble in his voice. I take back the cell phone
and return to the desk.

Ignoring the boxes, containing jewelry I guess, I work slowly through
the folders. The top few are indeed ownership papers for the house, the
two cars, insurance policies and so on. A re-sealable plastic bag contains
birth certificates and the children’s passports. In a blue plastic sleeve I
find what I’ve hoped for all along — the copies of the closing papers for
the purchase and sale of the Sanvino shares. Slowly sweat pearls start
forming on Garland’s high forehead. I set the papers aside. The last file
I search contains information about a numbered bank account with a
Liechtenstein bank, as well as a copy of the approved application form for
opening the UBS account of I-Consolidated. I add this to the blue plastic
sleeve. There in front of me is all the evidence to clear my name.

I right the desk chair that fell over when I brought down Garland and
sit in it. The gun is in my lap. "And now we wait for DI Willis."

After a few minutes, I hear the siren of an ambulance, the sound
coming rapidly closer. It stops abruptly, the sudden silence eerie. Tires
crunching gravel announce the approach of a vehicle, its headlights
briefly shining through the office windows. Half a minute later, there is
a knock at the door, and Mrs. Garland shows in two ambulance officer.
They take a quick look at the broken window and shattered glass. I point
to Carlo, partially hidden by the open door, and say: "The man with a
bullet wound is behind you. His name is Carlo Walker."

They help Carlo into the other chair. While one of them removes the
soaked handkerchief, the other opens a medical bag. They cut away the
right sleeve of Carlo’s sweater and shirt, and disinfect the wound.

"This needs a few stitches. We’ll have to take him to A and E."

"Fine, but make sure he doesn’t abscond. He may well try. It may be
better to wait for the police to arrive and arrange it with them."

Both shrug their shoulders. They must have experienced stranger
scenes.

One of them goes to Garland, whose face still shows traces of blood.
"May I?" he asks, looking uncertainly from him to me and back.

"I head butted him," I comment, "so he may have a broken nose."

The two officers look at each other, shaking their heads. One then
carefully probes around the nose. "No, it isn’t broken, just badly
contused. It will swell up a bit. Take some painkillers if you’re in too
much pain," he says to Garland.

Mrs. Garland has remained in the door. I look at her and say: "Mrs.
Garland, it may be a good idea to get your husband two Paracetamols or
something like that."

She nods and disappears.

One of the ambulance officers points to the window and asks: "What
happened here?"

"A brick to create a distraction," I answer.

"But nobody got through these pointed shards."

"No. Look officer, I realize you’re curious. You stumbled into a rather
bizarre situation, but it’s really a matter for the police and until then, the
less said the better."

"Sure," he replies with a grin and helps his colleague finish cleaning
up Carlo and pack away their things. Then he turns to me. "Miss, since
neither of these two are in serious danger, we’ll now return to base. The
police can bring Mr. Walker to A and E."

"That sounds fine with me."

After they have left, Carlo gets up.

"Carlo, sit down and wait for the arrival of the police."

He hesitates for a moment, then lowers himself carefully back onto the
chair. One of his endearing smiles makes his haggard face look
handsome. "Ceci, you’re not serious. You won’t hand me over to the
police. Not your brother. You’re just trying to frighten me."

"Carlo, I gave you a chance to get out of this." No smile on my face
this time. "You promised to go to mother. I paid for your ticket. You
checked in, even went through security, only to play a dirty trick on me,
and then tried to squeeze Garland. Now it’s too late to get out. I can’t help
you anymore even if I wanted and I’m not sure I want to. You’ll have to
front up to the police and face the consequences. I guess that if you tell
them truthfully your small part in this affair, you might get away with a
suspended sentence."

The smile on his face freezes as I speak. He gets up once more. So do
I, placing the secured gun on the chair. His eyes dart to the door. He
makes a sudden run for it, but I’m prepared. My right foot shoots forward.
He trips, falls forward, and crashes into the door, moaning pitifully,
clutching his injured arm. I help him up and lead him back to his chair.
No word is spoken.

From the corner of my vision I see Garland make a sudden dash for the
desk. I’m on top of him as he leans over its surface to grab the gun,
scattering some of the contents of the safe. I slam his head down. He
screams like a wounded animal, any resistance gone. I twist his right arm
up his back, pull him off the desk and lead him back to the chair. He
slumps into it, moaning.

A few seconds later, Mrs. Garland rushes into the room with a glass of
water and pills, as well as a wet face cloth. When she sees his nose, blood
dripping again from it, she puts the glass and pills on the desk and goes
to him.

"Oh, Fred, what happened? You’re bleeding again." Then she turns
angrily on me. "Why did you have to hurt him again? Wasn’t once
enough?"

"He tried to get the gun, and I had no choice but to prevent him."

"Oh, my poor man. Let me wipe the blood off." She carefully wipes
away the blood without touching the nose. "Fred, what is this all about?
… Tell me."

He doesn’t answer.

"Please, Fred, I need to know."

He pushes the hand wiping his forehead away. "Marjorie, just leave.
Stay with the girls."

She turns to me. "Will you tell me, Miss Walker?"

I hesitate for a second. She has the right to know. "Mr. Garland fed the
police false information that led to my arrest on suspicion of defrauding
one of the firm’s clients of two million pounds. In truth, it was Mr.
Garland who engineered the fraud. The evidence for this is on the desk.
DI Willis, who is investigating the fraud, should be here any minute
now."

"All lies, Marjorie," Garland exclaims, "don’t believe a word this
woman says. She assaulted me. When Willis arrives, they will take her
into custody."

Her eyes turn back to me, pleading.

"I’m sorry, Mrs. Garland, that I have to cause such grief to you and
your two daughters. Why don’t you now give your husband the
painkillers and then it may be best, as your husband says, that you go
back to your daughters."

"Oh, Fred," she murmurs, casting him a worried glance. Two tears run
down her cheeks. Then she rushes out of the office. I hand Garland the
water and the pills. He takes them without thanking.

I rearrange the papers scattered on the desk and pick up the tape
recorder that slid onto the carpet. I turn it off.

Sunday, 8:05 p.m.

The sound of police sirens is rapidly coming closer. Suddenly they stop,
creating a pregnant silence. A short time later, headlights again briefly
cast a flicker into the office. Through the shattered window I see two cars
pull up in front of the house. Willis and Somes emerge from the first, two
policemen from the second. I place the secured gun on a corner of the
desk, closest to the door, again turn on the tape recorder, and then retreat
against the bookshelves. Within a few seconds the office door opens, and
Willis enters, followed by Somes and one of the other officers.