Dead at First Sight, page 25
He continued, ‘This evidence together with the crime scene assessment and the postmortem result on Suzy Driver indicates she was murdered and did not commit suicide. I believe they panicked that their real identities would be disclosed, which is why they killed these women. We know, normally, that these types of fraudsters don’t meet up with their victims.’
‘They’re not really that smart, are they, boss?’ Simon Snape said.
‘Copeland’s smarter than his colleague who we’re holding in custody at the moment,’ Grace replied. ‘Kofi Okonjo, also known as Dunstan Ogwang, also known as Donald Duck.’ Again he pointed at the whiteboard, which showed photos lifted from the Munich CCTV, the man’s Brighton and Hove Custody photograph and the two passport photo pages.
‘Doesn’t look much like the Donald Duck I remember from my childhood,’ DC Boutwood said.
‘I’m sure he’ll quack up after a few days in a cell,’ Norman Potting said.
There were several groans. As he always did after one of his jokes, Potting looked around for approval. He didn’t see any.
‘Any more gems where that came from, Norman?’ Grace asked.
‘There’s probably one about the Old Bill in there somewhere, chief, but it’s eluding me.’
‘Luckily for all of us,’ Snape murmured.
‘Jack Alexander’s Outside Enquiry Team has obtained two separate CCTV images of Copeland hurrying through Brighton, in the vicinity of North Gardens, straight after the attack – the timing fits. We have two prime suspects, who as we now know are the subjects of international arrest warrants for atrocities committed in the Sierra Leone war for independence at the start of this century.’
He turned to Glenn Branson. ‘I’m holding a press conference later today at which I will be issuing the photographs we have of Tunde Oganjimi, alias Jules de Copeland, who is currently at large, appealing to the public for any sightings of him or for anyone who may know his whereabouts.’
He paused to drain his coffee cup before continuing. ‘Our man in custody has gone “no comment” on us and is frankly pratting about. As soon as we get back the DNA analysis from Forensics, which I’m hoping will confirm the blood on the machete is a match with Seward, I intend that we charge him for the offence of Grievous Bodily Harm with Intent.’
‘What name are you going to charge him under, chief?’ Potting asked. ‘Donald Duck?’
‘I’m suggesting we charge him under the name he first used to come into this country, Kofi Okonjo. We can explain to the court that he is using at least two other names and I’ll apply for him to be remanded in custody as a flight risk. With the international warrant out for him as well, I don’t think we’ll have a problem. Hopefully he’ll be remanded to Lewes, which will make it logistically easy for interviewing him further regarding the murder of Suzy Driver – and, of course, the German police might want to speak to him in connection with their investigation into the death of Lena Welch. But it’s possible in view of the international warrant he’ll be moved to a high-security category-A prison – probably Belmarsh.’
Grace paused again to check his notes. ‘Thanks to Haydn Kelly, we have something further to add to – and complicate – the mix. I’m sure you will all remember our very dear friend Mr Tooth? A gentleman as slippery as the saw-scale viper snake that bit him some months ago?’
There were several nods.
‘He’s done his best to mask his identity, but Haydn is one hundred per cent certain from his forensic gait analysis that this is the same man. Would any of you like to speculate on what he was doing in Withdean Road last night, close to our prime suspect’s residence, risking instant arrest and life imprisonment on a string of charges?’
No one responded.
‘Me neither,’ Grace said, ‘but he was.’ He paused. ‘This is a professional hitman. A former US military sniper who survived the war in Afghanistan. This man is a survivor. I can safely say he wasn’t prowling around Withdean Road late last night for any good reason and I’m guessing it wasn’t a late-night stroll for his health. My hypothesis is that he is linked in some manner with our man in custody and Jules de Copeland. He must know the risks of being here. What’s made it worthwhile for him?’
‘Because he’s all heart, gov?’ Potting said.
‘Yep, well since he nearly blew you to pieces with a car bomb, that’s very generous of you, Norman.’
‘That’s cos I’m all heart, too, gov.’
‘And if he’d had his way,’ said Grace, ‘you’d be liver, intestines and kidneys as well, all scattered around the road and pavement.’
‘But not too much in the way of brains,’ Glenn Branson chipped in. ‘Would have needed the old Specialist Search Unit to find any trace of them.’
The whole team laughed.
‘Right, this is what we have so far,’ Grace said. ‘A short time after Donald Duck or Kofi Okonjo or Dunstan Ogwang’s arrest – let’s go with Kofi Okonjo – a call comes into his phone, which is answered by Aiden Gilbert at Digital Forensics. The caller hangs up. Under RIPA powers, Gilbert requests from the phone provider, O2, a trace on the call. O2 reported that triangulation put the phone in the vicinity of Withdean Place in Withdean Road.’
‘Could the caller have been Tooth, sir?’ Simon Snape asked.
‘Possibly, Simon,’ Grace replied. ‘Or someone inside the house. O2 have put a marker on the phone number and, from an update a short while ago, it has not transmitted any further signals since the time of that call, 21.33 p.m. That means it’s been switched off or otherwise disabled. We have eliminated the immediate neighbouring houses from our enquiries as well as the ones on the other side of the road. We also have a confirmed sighting of Mr Tooth in the vicinity of Withdean Place, so yes, it is possible he made that call.’ He turned to DC Davies. ‘Alec, do you have anything new to report on the Polo?’
‘Yes, sir, I do. Last night I asked Oscar-1 to put out an alert on its index. A response car spotted the vehicle on the forecourt of a house in Onslow Road, Hove, some while later. Turns out to be the home of a judge, His Honour Anthony Northcliffe, who wasn’t too impressed about being woken at 3 a.m.’
‘That bastard!’ grumbled Potting. ‘Serves him right, he gave me a right bollocking in Lewes Crown Court over my evidence a few years ago!’
‘Norman!’ Grace said. ‘Is that comment helpful?’
Potting mumbled an apology.
Continuing, Alec Davies said, ‘It looks like Tooth may have switched number plates with His Honour’s wife’s car. We requested an ANPR plot on that index and interestingly we got a similar route to the one taken by the Polo earlier. There were no further cameras pinged in any direction, which means he stopped pretty much within a mile or so of the Marine Parade camera and parked up – either outside or in a garage.’
‘Back to the same area both times? Late at night?’ Grace said, pensively. ‘I’d say that indicates he might be staying somewhere in that area. Alec, we need the house-to-house team to check with all hotels and boarding houses in that locale to see if there is any guest fitting his description.’
‘There are hundreds, sir. Small hotels, bed-and-breakfasts, it will take days.’
‘Make a start on it. Draft in some Specials if you need to.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘OK,’ Roy Grace said. ‘So what we have so far is an address in Withdean Road that is linked to our suspects for three offences. And it is also linked to a person, Mr Tooth, who is pretty much at the top of our wanted person list. All the victims so far are connected to internet romance fraud. Are these suspects lining up another victim – or victims? We need to take an urgent look at this property.’ He turned to Branson. ‘Glenn, I’m putting you in charge of the raid.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘DS Alexander will assist you. I’m tasking you with getting a warrant and putting together a plan for going in. We’re going to need a Firearms Unit because of the potential for serious violence, the Local Support Team, Digital Forensics, a Police Search Advisor and search team. Surveillance is already in place. Something’s up there that we need to know about, urgently. OK?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Do it in fast time. I want everyone ready in three hours. I’ll speak to Gold to get someone appointed to lead the search for Tooth, working alongside our team.’
‘Understood, sir.’
‘Meantime, I’ll handle our suspect. I want to speak to him myself.’
76
Wednesday 10 October
‘Third interview with Dunstan Ogwang, in the presence of his solicitor, Alison Watts, Detective Superintendent Grace and Detective Sergeant Potting,’ Roy Grace said to the camera. Then he addressed the suspect. ‘Mr Ogwang, so far in your previous interviews you have remained silent, which you are entitled to do. I’ll remind you that you are under caution. You have been arrested on suspicion of causing Grievous Bodily Harm with Intent. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Is that clear?’
Ogwang faced him off in sullen silence.
His solicitor said, ‘Detective Superintendent, my client has told me that he will not answer any questions.’
‘Understood, but I’m going to give your client one more chance to change his mind.’ He turned back to Ogwang. ‘When you were arrested last night, according to the arresting officer you had in your possession a machete. There was what appeared to be fresh blood on the blade. Would you like to say anything about that? Any explanation?’
‘No comment.’
‘I have just received from the Surrey and Sussex Police’s Forensic department the DNA analysis of the blood on your knife. It is an exact match with the blood of a gentleman who was attacked in his home a short while – in fact just minutes – before you were arrested. In this attack his hand was first pinned to a chopping board by a kitchen knife and subsequently it was severed by a machete. Are you following me?’
Again Ogwang faced him off.
‘The victim has identified you. Is there anything you would like to tell me?’
Alison Watts said, sharply, ‘I’ve already told you my client is not prepared to answer any questions.’
‘I did hear you,’ Grace said. ‘I’m still entitled to ask him questions from which inferences may be drawn. Is your client aware of the gravity of this offence? That Grievous Bodily Harm with Intent carries a potentially similar sentence to murder? That he could be looking at twenty years or more in prison?’
‘I will explain this to my client.’
‘Ms Watts, just so we are under no illusions here about the situation, as has already been mentioned by my colleague Detective Inspector Branson in an earlier interview, Kofi Okonjo is the subject of an international arrest warrant issued by the International Criminal Court in The Hague for atrocities committed in the Sierra Leone war for independence at the start of this century. We have seen the photograph they have of him and I can confirm it is your client.’
Grace was enjoying the solicitor’s clear discomfort. To her credit she remained poker-faced.
‘I’m not prepared to disclose any confidential discussions I have had with my client,’ she said.
Grace turned back to Ogwang. ‘We believe you are working with a colleague or an accomplice. We also believe that the pair of you are not working alone. I cannot promise you any kind of immunity or special treatment, but if you were willing to cooperate and give us information, I can tell you that a judge would take that into consideration in any future sentence you might receive if found guilty of this offence. Have a think, there’s no rush.’ He turned to Watts. ‘Would you like to consider this? If you need further time with your client, we can suspend this interview.’
Ogwang glanced at his solicitor.
‘As I’ve already made clear, my client will not answer any questions. Do what you need to do, which I presume will be to charge my client,’ she said.
Grace looked once more at the big, round, dead eyes of Ogwang. Then he glanced at the clock and addressed the camera above them. ‘Interview with Dunstan Ogwang terminated at 12.09 p.m.’
77
Wednesday 10 October
After the abortive interview with Dunstan Ogwang, Grace went down to the privacy of his ground-floor cubicle of an office. He first called Cassian Pewe, who had left a message wanting an update and insisting he attend the press conference himself. Determined, of course, to steal the limelight – and any future glory.
Ending the call to the ACC, he pondered on his lunch tomorrow in London with Alison Vosper. What did she have in mind for him? An escape from that plonker on the first floor of the building housing the brass?
He turned his attention to the reports he needed to read through before his meeting in London, tomorrow afternoon, with Emily Denyer and the prosecuting counsel on the so-called ‘Black Widow’, Jodie Bentley – one of the nastiest and most devious human beings he had ever had the dubious privilege to arrest. Responsible for the deaths of at least three rich lovers – and very nearly for the death of Norman Potting – Bentley deserved to be behind bars for the rest of her natural life. But, of course, thanks to the skewed justice system, that would never happen, he thought, gloomily.
There was a rat-a-tat-tat on his door, then Norman Potting blundered in, beaming. ‘I’ve spoken to CPS, chief, and run through the evidence with them. They’re happy for us to charge him with GBH with Intent.’
‘Good – did you discuss with them his selection of names and which to charge him under?’
‘Since he first came into this country as Kofi Okonjo, and that’s the name on the international arrest warrant, they think that’s the one we should use. Do you agree?’
‘Yes. You can explain it to the magistrate in court when he appears, with luck this afternoon. I’ve checked and it’s Juliet Smith who is the senior one on today. I doubt she’ll be sympathetic towards him.’
Grace had a soft spot for her, because of all the magistrates he’d ever been in front of she was the most supportive towards the police, but always fair in her decisions.
‘Do you want to do the honours, chief?’
‘No, I have a ton of stuff to prepare for a meeting with counsel in London tomorrow, so the pleasure is all yours, Norman. With the severity of the charges and Okonjo clearly a flight risk, there shouldn’t be any problem in getting the magistrate to agree to denying any bail application and remanding him in custody. So fill your boots.’
78
Wednesday 10 October
‘Deputy Sheriff Sorokin,’ Matt said, answering the phone in his freezing-cold office. ‘How may I help you, ma’am?’
‘I’m real worried,’ the woman at the other end said. ‘I haven’t seen my Jean-Pierre in over four days. This is not like him, I’ve a real bad feeling about this.’
He clicked the keypad to open a file. ‘OK, bear with me one second. May I have your full name, please.’
‘Kathleen Jordan Martis.’
‘And your address?’
He tapped it in as she recited it.
‘And your relationship with Jean-Pierre – can you give me his last name?’
‘He’s a cat,’ she said, indignantly. ‘Don’t have no last name.’
‘Ma’am, with all due respect, you’ve called the homicide investigations number of the Sheriff’s Department of the Hernando County Police. I’ll give you another number to call.’
As he hung up, his phone rang again. It was Johnny Fordwater. ‘Hey, pal, how you doing?’ Sorokin said.
‘Not great, but thanks for asking, Matt. I have some information you may be able to use. I’ve found a private investigator over here who has been specializing in so-called romance fraud. I just had a call from him, giving the possible name of the mastermind behind the scams that caught us both.’
Sorokin sat up straight. ‘OK?’
‘He thinks he’s a British criminal, known to the police here, who is involved in a wide number of internet scam operations and works with a Sakawa group from Ghana. His contacts within the police – don’t ask – have told him that Barrey may have relocated to Jersey, in the Channel Islands. I wondered if your FBI connections might be able to take a look at this character?’
‘Screw the Feds! If this is our man, I want to be the first in the line to bust his nose.’
‘So long as I can be the second.’
‘I like your style, pal. Leave it with me.’
79
Wednesday 10 October
Tooth was drenched in perspiration. His head seemed as if it was filled with water slopping around. He kept having to move the car, because of a son-of-a-bitch traffic warden on the prowl. He’d lost sight of the entrance/exit to the apartment block for several minutes on two occasions, but the blue dot on his phone remained reassuringly stationary.
There was very little activity – few cars driving in and out of the building and even fewer people coming out of the front door. A couple of food delivery drivers, an Amazon delivery from a white van and an Ocado delivery van some while ago. Now, with the overcast day, the light was beginning to fail. A bleached-haired man in a fur-collared overcoat, with a dog the size of a rat, appeared and headed off. They only got a few yards before the dog pooped. Wrinkling his face, and looking mostly the other way, he scooped it up with a plastic bag and knotted it deftly before setting off again, holding it daintily some distance from him.
A short while later a taxi pulled up, and Tooth watched with interest in case his mark was trying another route. But an elderly lady emerged with a wheeled shopping trolley, which the cabbie put in the trunk before holding the rear door for her.
