Footsteps approach, and the huge oak front door opens. There he is, the man himself. What is he? Six six? Huge beard, Foo Fighters t-shirt clinging to a huge torso.
An offered hand, a shake.
‘You must be the Viking?’
‘And you,’ says the Viking, ‘must be Andrew Everton. Let me take you to my library.’
Andrew Everton follows the huge figure through a marble entrance hall, and into a carpeted corridor. Every wall is covered in art, most of it too modern for the Chief Constable’s tastes, but the odd sailing ship or Norman church here and there make up for it. The Viking leads him into a library, a cocoon of dark wood and red leather and soft lighting. Andrew Everton thinks about the sign on his office wall, CRIME DOESN’T PAY. We’ll see about that.
The Viking gestures to the walls, lined from floor to ceiling with books. ‘Are you a reader, Chief Constable?’
‘Love writing books more than reading them, if I’m honest,’ says Andrew Everton, and sits in an armchair indicated by his host. ‘We can probably skip all this chat if you’d rather? It’s a lovely house, it was a pleasant journey, I don’t need the loo, and I’m OK for water.’
The Viking nods. ‘OK.’ He sits on, and nearly fills, a two-seater leather sofa, and switches on a lamp beside him. ‘What do you need from me, Mr Andrew Everton?’
72
Joyce
The lamp is the key to the whole thing.
Once you switch it on, you switch on the cameras and microphones. We’re all in the staff kitchen at the back of the house, quiet as church mice, and now we can see the live images from inside the library. We can’t see Henrik, because he didn’t want to be on camera. Because of his criminal empire, not because he is shy. Although he is also quite shy, I think.
By the way, I checked my crypto account the other day, and it’s now worth fifty-six thousand pounds. So thank you, Henrik.
Andrew Everton looks very sure of himself. Has no idea of what he is walking into. Elizabeth gave him a tip-off – ‘absolutely between us, Andrew’ – about the Viking. The money-launderer who had been trying to kill us. ‘I can get you a meeting, don’t ask me how, and don’t ask me where, just thank me. Perhaps you could pay him a visit?’
And paying him a visit is exactly what Andrew Everton is doing now. Not to gather evidence, not to arrest him, but simply because he is a man in great need of a money-launderer.
Because Andrew Everton was the brains behind the VAT fraud. Andrew Everton killed Bethany Waites and blackmailed Jack Mason and Heather Garbutt into silence.
In his book Given in Evidence, I think I told you about it, the main character is a gangland boss called Big Mick. And Big Mick’s full name?
Michael Gullis.
A silly error very early on in the scam. We all make mistakes.
And in case you’re wondering if it might be a coincidence, the name of the other early payee also crops up in one of Andrew Everton’s books.
I told you Ibrahim cracked ‘Carron Whitehead’。 It was simple really.
It’s an anagram of ‘Catherine Howard’。 The teak-tough detective. Clever Ibrahim.
So our guess was that Andrew Everton, so far unable to unlock any of the proceeds of the fraud, might like to have a private chat with the Viking.
And that ‘private chat’ is what we’re watching right now.
73
‘I’m a police officer,’ says Andrew Everton. ‘You understand that, of course?’
‘I understand,’ says the Viking. ‘So long as you are not filming me or recording me, we are cool.’