Fogarty: A City of London Thriller by J Jackson Bentley Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J Jackson Bentley
footage. We also have his clothing, which is being processed for the WPC’s blood and DNA, which we believe will seal the matter.”
“Can I see something, then, Mr Thomson? Anything will do.”
“I appear to have mislaid it, sir. It has been rather a torrid day,” the CPS lawy er blurted out somewhat lamely.
“For us all, Mr Thomson, for us all. Now, when do you think you can have this information ready f or me?” the magistrate pressed.
“Tuesday morning, sir. I bel ieve that is our next window.”
“Tuesday it is, then.” The magistrate was about to remand Grierson when Pend erley shot to his feet, fuming.
“Sir, this is an outrage! This case screams injustice. My client is being held with no evidence whatsoever. He should be released on his own cognisance this very moment,” he stated, his red face burning with indignation.
“Sit down, Mr Penderley, and please try to be sensible. Let me have a word.” The magistrate leaned over and spoke to the cl erk before making his decision.
“Mr Grierson, the charges you face are serious and carry the prospect of a long term of incarceration. However, we have insufficient information to justify holding you until Tuesday, and so I will grant bail and order that you are electronically tagged, at least until the next remand hearing. The charges against you are of such seriousness that you will be delivered to your home, where you will be confined until Tuesday. I understand that if you stray more than a few yards from the agreed address, an alarm will sound and you will be apprehended and arrested again. If that should happen, you will be remanded until your trial without the possibility of bail. Is that clear?” The magistrate paused before continuing. “Mr Penderley, are these terms acceptable to your client?”
Penderley looked at Dennis Grierson, who couldn’t believe his luck . He nodded vigorously.
“Sir, my client is unhappy about the restrictions on his movement, as any innocent man would be, but he appreciates the difficulties you are w orking under and so he agrees.”
By eleven o’clock that night, Dennis Grierson was ankle tagged and back in the Trafalgar House Flats, planning to run.
Chapter 8
St Ermin’s Hotel, Caxton St, London, UK.
Sunday 14th August 2011; 9pm
After a busy day Ben was ready for his bed, even though it was only nine o’clock, but before he could make a move towards his bedroom the phone rang. It was DC Fellowes and he was ranting about the Crown Prosecution Service and the courts and society in general, but the main purpose of the call was to inform Ben that Dennis Grierson was out on bail and electronically tagged. Despite the DC’s complaints about a suspect facing a charge of attempted murder on a police officer, he was not too worried. Dennis Grierson was locked in one place or another, and on Tuesday Fellowes and Scott would hand deliver the files.
Ben listened, and replied where expected. He saw advantages in both forms of containment. Out in the community Grierson was free, but he was also vulnerable, and Ben might just be able to take advantage of that vulnerability. He had barely replaced the receiver when the phone rang again. It was his father, calling from the Ranch in New Zealand. Patrick was an early riser but it was still only eight in the morning on Sunday in Masterton.
“Ben, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Ihaka died peacefully in his sleep last night.” A lot more was said before and after that sentence was uttered, but that was the only sentence that Ben remembe red once he put the phone down.
Ben lay down on the bed, tears welling in his eyes, and tried to remember the first time he had met the old Maori Elder.
Chapter 9
Homebush Ra nch, Masterton, Near Wellington, NZ.
Friday 19 th June 1991; Twenty Years Ago.
An eleven year-old Ambrose Benjamin Fogarty waved goodbye to Danielle Morgan, a cousin he didn’t know he’d had until recently, as she left the ranch to
“Can I see something, then, Mr Thomson? Anything will do.”
“I appear to have mislaid it, sir. It has been rather a torrid day,” the CPS lawy er blurted out somewhat lamely.
“For us all, Mr Thomson, for us all. Now, when do you think you can have this information ready f or me?” the magistrate pressed.
“Tuesday morning, sir. I bel ieve that is our next window.”
“Tuesday it is, then.” The magistrate was about to remand Grierson when Pend erley shot to his feet, fuming.
“Sir, this is an outrage! This case screams injustice. My client is being held with no evidence whatsoever. He should be released on his own cognisance this very moment,” he stated, his red face burning with indignation.
“Sit down, Mr Penderley, and please try to be sensible. Let me have a word.” The magistrate leaned over and spoke to the cl erk before making his decision.
“Mr Grierson, the charges you face are serious and carry the prospect of a long term of incarceration. However, we have insufficient information to justify holding you until Tuesday, and so I will grant bail and order that you are electronically tagged, at least until the next remand hearing. The charges against you are of such seriousness that you will be delivered to your home, where you will be confined until Tuesday. I understand that if you stray more than a few yards from the agreed address, an alarm will sound and you will be apprehended and arrested again. If that should happen, you will be remanded until your trial without the possibility of bail. Is that clear?” The magistrate paused before continuing. “Mr Penderley, are these terms acceptable to your client?”
Penderley looked at Dennis Grierson, who couldn’t believe his luck . He nodded vigorously.
“Sir, my client is unhappy about the restrictions on his movement, as any innocent man would be, but he appreciates the difficulties you are w orking under and so he agrees.”
By eleven o’clock that night, Dennis Grierson was ankle tagged and back in the Trafalgar House Flats, planning to run.
Chapter 8
St Ermin’s Hotel, Caxton St, London, UK.
Sunday 14th August 2011; 9pm
After a busy day Ben was ready for his bed, even though it was only nine o’clock, but before he could make a move towards his bedroom the phone rang. It was DC Fellowes and he was ranting about the Crown Prosecution Service and the courts and society in general, but the main purpose of the call was to inform Ben that Dennis Grierson was out on bail and electronically tagged. Despite the DC’s complaints about a suspect facing a charge of attempted murder on a police officer, he was not too worried. Dennis Grierson was locked in one place or another, and on Tuesday Fellowes and Scott would hand deliver the files.
Ben listened, and replied where expected. He saw advantages in both forms of containment. Out in the community Grierson was free, but he was also vulnerable, and Ben might just be able to take advantage of that vulnerability. He had barely replaced the receiver when the phone rang again. It was his father, calling from the Ranch in New Zealand. Patrick was an early riser but it was still only eight in the morning on Sunday in Masterton.
“Ben, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Ihaka died peacefully in his sleep last night.” A lot more was said before and after that sentence was uttered, but that was the only sentence that Ben remembe red once he put the phone down.
Ben lay down on the bed, tears welling in his eyes, and tried to remember the first time he had met the old Maori Elder.
Chapter 9
Homebush Ra nch, Masterton, Near Wellington, NZ.
Friday 19 th June 1991; Twenty Years Ago.
An eleven year-old Ambrose Benjamin Fogarty waved goodbye to Danielle Morgan, a cousin he didn’t know he’d had until recently, as she left the ranch to
Similar Books
When Harry Met Sally
Nora Ephron
Black Knight in Red Square
Stuart M. Kaminsky
The Night People
Edward D. Hoch
REAPER'S KISS
Jaxson Kidman
The Wicked Girls
Alex Marwood
Southland
Nina Revoyr
Strike Back
Chris Ryan
Autumn Calling
T. Lynne Tolles
1 Breakfast at Madeline's
Matt Witten
The Greek Tycoon's Secret Heir
Katherine Garbera