Traitors Gate by Jeffrey Archer

Author:Jeffrey Archer [Archer, Jeffrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2023-06-19T17:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

WHEN THE PHONE RANG AT eight o’clock that morning, Miles picked it up, knowing who would be on the other end of the line.

‘I thought you’d want to know that Hogan has recently been giving evidence in a drugs case at Southwark Crown Court,’ was Lamont’s opening line.

‘So what?’ said Faulkner.

‘A court official, a mate of mine, left the building at the same time as he did.’

‘So what?’ repeated Faulkner.

‘He saw Hogan talking to a member of the jury and took a photo of him with the woman.’

‘And how’s that going to help?’ said Faulkner, beginning to sound exasperated.

‘The trial was still in progress,’ said Lamont, who paused for a moment before he added, ‘and under the 1994 Criminal Justice & Public Order Act, that could amount to evidence of jury tampering, or possibly the even more serious offence of attempting to bribe a juror. And what’s more, although the dealer was convicted, it was a close-run thing – just the kind of case where a quiet intervention could have swung the whole verdict.’

‘What would be the likely sentence if Hogan was found guilty of attempting to influence an impressionable juror?’ asked Faulkner, suddenly more interested.

‘Two years minimum. But as he’s a police officer, it could be a lot longer.’

‘How much longer?’ pressed Miles.

‘Six years, possibly even ten.’

‘Ten would be satisfactory. But what do we know about the juror?’ was Miles’s next question.

‘A Mrs Kay Dawson. She’s a shop assistant at M and S, and appears to enjoy the good things in life. Unfortunately, her husband’s just been laid off so he won’t be able to provide them.’

‘Then I’ll leave it to you, Bruce, to make sure she continues to enjoy the good things in life, and I’ll add a little incentive.’

‘What did you have in mind?’ asked Lamont, licking his lips.

‘How about an extra ten grand for every year Hogan gets?’

• • •

A taxi dropped Christina outside Spink & Son in Bloomsbury, founded 1666. A quaint, old-fashioned bell tinkled above her as she opened the door.

An elderly man was standing behind the counter, looking more like a retired schoolmaster than a shop assistant. ‘How may I assist you, madam?’ he asked, sounding like a retired schoolmaster.

‘I wonder if you’d be able to tell me if this coin is authentic?’ asked Christina, handing him the 1971 silver two-pence piece Percy had given her.

The dealer picked up his loupe and studied the coin for some time before he offered an opinion.

‘An error coin, as we describe it in the trade,’ he said, ‘and much sought after by serious collectors.’

‘And how much would you be willing to pay for it?’

The dealer studied the coin more closely. ‘A thousand pounds would be my best offer,’ he eventually managed. ‘And be assured, madam, you won’t get a better price from any other dealer.’

‘Cash?’ queried Christina, leaving the coin on the counter.

The dealer peered at the customer over his half-moon spectacles. ‘I’ll need to check how much I have in the safe.’ He left her and disappeared into a back room, returning a few minutes later with £935 in used notes.

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