Contents (83)
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- Acknowledgements
- OUT NOW IN PAPERBACK
Sarah opened her mouth to respond. To argue her case one last time. The look on Elton’s face told her it would be a waste of breath.
The conversation was over. And so was her deal with Levy.
THIRTY-NINE
Wisdom Penfold sat behind a small wooden table in the cramped interview room. His arms were stretched out ahead of him, joined at the wrist by solid, leather-covered handcuffs.
On Penfold’s left was a lawyer. Peter Hughes, a local solicitor, called in to advise the prisoner and to protect his interests. On his right was a three-deck audio tape-recording machine. An antiquated relic of the 1980s. The last time a government had properly invested in its police force.
Penfold looked at the two empty chairs ahead of him and wondered when his interview would begin. His injuries had been treated – his dislocated arm re-set, his bleeding eye bandaged – but still Penfold was in pain. He felt like he had been hit by a truck and the discomfort was making him impatient.
Let’s just get this over and done with, Penfold thought. I know where I’m going.
Penfold had no faith in God. So he was unsurprised when his ‘prayer’ went unanswered. The door did not open. His interrogators did not appear. The torment of anticipation continued.
Twenty more agonising minutes passed.
The room offered no distractions. Just pale blue walls, painted who knew how long ago. And Peter Hughes, to whom Penfold had no intention of speaking. He had not asked for a lawyer. He had not refused one, either. But that did not mean he intended to engage with the man.
Finally the room’s only door opened and two people walked in. One he recognised: Joelle Levy, the woman in charge. Behind her was another officer. A tall man in his early thirties. Trim and wearing an expensive suit.
The two officers took their seats. At first neither spoke. The man sat closest to the tape machine and so it was for him to press its record button. A high-pitched tone indicated that the tape had begun.
The male officer turned to Penfold.
‘Mr Penfold, we are now commencing your recorded interview under caution, following your arrest this morning. The interview will be taped and that tape will be made available to you or to your legal representatives if you are charged with an offence at the conclusion of the interview, or are charged with the same at a later date. Do you understand this as I have explained it to you?’
Penfold did not respond. Cooperation now would not help him. It would not result in a shorter sentence. Penfold knew that. He had nothing to gain from answering questions, and so he would not.
The male officer waited a moment before he continued.
‘Can I assume from your silence that you do not intend to answer?’
Penfold continued to stare forward, unblinking. He held the officer’s gaze, but he had no intention of responding to these people. The officer seemed unfazed and simply turned to Peter Hughes.