couldn’t shift the blame to anyone else, nor could he get him off on a technicality. Ashley Clarke watched his every step as he left the room. Rafi was the first to speak.
“Mr Graham tries to pretend he’s helping us when we’re in trouble. Sends in the big lawyer, flash suit, Armani briefcase, and money no object. And it dawned on me during the first interview with Matthewson. He isn’t interested in saving our backsides, just saving Billy Graham’s. Why not? He pays the bills after all. The lawyer comes in, paints a bleak picture and tells us Billy Graham will move heaven and earth to help us.”
Ashley stood up, walked around the table.”I’ve seen it a million times before, Rafi, but what I want to know is how you ended up dealing crack to kids.”
The remark brought the youngster back to reality. His two-minute tirade had left him feeling sorry for himself and now Ashley Clarke had brought back the guilt trip. A full minute elapsed in which Ashley stood in a forced silence. He would speak, Ash knew; just stay quiet.
“Father contacted him again. Within the hour, Graham was in father’s office. Father said he seemed sympathetic, understood that retail profits were being squeezed. Graham announced a six-month payment holiday. And again the trouble stopped. Father turned the shops round yet again.”
The youngster fingered the mug of cold tea. Ashley remained quiet.
“Graham didn’t show up again for nearly nine months. Apologised, said he’d been busy. He hit father with a bill for over twenty thousand pounds, the missing monthly payments plus a ridiculously large accrued interest figure.”
Ashley sighed … spoke. “And you had to start working for him to clear the debt.”
Rafi broke down. The tears he’d been fighting since his arrest eventually came and he sobbed like a child.
Chapter 5
Ashley was a little concerned as he walked into Rod dam’s office five minutes after his shift began.
He’d been summoned, as Holy John had called it, almost as soon as he’d walked into the station.
“Take a seat, Ashley.” Roddam smiled as he walked into the Chief’s office. A bad sign, he thought.
Roddam dispensed with any niceties, came straight to the point.
“There’s been an allegation, Ashley; an allegation of racism, I’m afraid.”Ashley’s mouth gaped open. There may have been one or two things that people could have said about Ashley Clarke’s police career since he’d stepped off that train at Kings Cross all those years ago. One or two mistakes he’d made along the way, occasionally he could have been accused of being over physical during an arrest. A couple of times he’d been overly keen when carrying out a dawn raid on a known dealer and occasionally he’d accepted the odd free drink at a public house on his beat. But racism? Definitely not.
Ashley stayed composed; he wanted to jump in and tell Roddam there had been some sort of mistake but he bit his lip and let him continue.
“It was during the visit by Chief Superintendent Harrison last week.”
Ashley shook his head. “I’m not with you, sir, I’ve never met a Chief Superintendent Harrison.”
“You didn’t exactly meet him. He was with me last week prior to the interviews. He’s from West Mercia, working on some new fangled management project. He was in the suit, remember?”
“Yes, sir. I remember now, but what does that have to do with me and where does the racism accusation fit in?”
Roddam pawed at a four- or five-page report on his desk. He adjusted his glasses and read.
“It was at nine fifteen exactly when the officer, later identified as DC Ashley Clarke, made an offensive racist statement directed at the prisoner Rafi Patel.”
Ashley took a step forward.”No, sir, not me; he’s mistaken me for someone else, he’s made a mistake.”
Roddam smiled. A strange smile, maybe even sympathetic and he removed his glasses.
“I’m afraid he wasn’t, Ashley. I was there too. I heard
“Mr Graham tries to pretend he’s helping us when we’re in trouble. Sends in the big lawyer, flash suit, Armani briefcase, and money no object. And it dawned on me during the first interview with Matthewson. He isn’t interested in saving our backsides, just saving Billy Graham’s. Why not? He pays the bills after all. The lawyer comes in, paints a bleak picture and tells us Billy Graham will move heaven and earth to help us.”
Ashley stood up, walked around the table.”I’ve seen it a million times before, Rafi, but what I want to know is how you ended up dealing crack to kids.”
The remark brought the youngster back to reality. His two-minute tirade had left him feeling sorry for himself and now Ashley Clarke had brought back the guilt trip. A full minute elapsed in which Ashley stood in a forced silence. He would speak, Ash knew; just stay quiet.
“Father contacted him again. Within the hour, Graham was in father’s office. Father said he seemed sympathetic, understood that retail profits were being squeezed. Graham announced a six-month payment holiday. And again the trouble stopped. Father turned the shops round yet again.”
The youngster fingered the mug of cold tea. Ashley remained quiet.
“Graham didn’t show up again for nearly nine months. Apologised, said he’d been busy. He hit father with a bill for over twenty thousand pounds, the missing monthly payments plus a ridiculously large accrued interest figure.”
Ashley sighed … spoke. “And you had to start working for him to clear the debt.”
Rafi broke down. The tears he’d been fighting since his arrest eventually came and he sobbed like a child.
Chapter 5
Ashley was a little concerned as he walked into Rod dam’s office five minutes after his shift began.
He’d been summoned, as Holy John had called it, almost as soon as he’d walked into the station.
“Take a seat, Ashley.” Roddam smiled as he walked into the Chief’s office. A bad sign, he thought.
Roddam dispensed with any niceties, came straight to the point.
“There’s been an allegation, Ashley; an allegation of racism, I’m afraid.”Ashley’s mouth gaped open. There may have been one or two things that people could have said about Ashley Clarke’s police career since he’d stepped off that train at Kings Cross all those years ago. One or two mistakes he’d made along the way, occasionally he could have been accused of being over physical during an arrest. A couple of times he’d been overly keen when carrying out a dawn raid on a known dealer and occasionally he’d accepted the odd free drink at a public house on his beat. But racism? Definitely not.
Ashley stayed composed; he wanted to jump in and tell Roddam there had been some sort of mistake but he bit his lip and let him continue.
“It was during the visit by Chief Superintendent Harrison last week.”
Ashley shook his head. “I’m not with you, sir, I’ve never met a Chief Superintendent Harrison.”
“You didn’t exactly meet him. He was with me last week prior to the interviews. He’s from West Mercia, working on some new fangled management project. He was in the suit, remember?”
“Yes, sir. I remember now, but what does that have to do with me and where does the racism accusation fit in?”
Roddam pawed at a four- or five-page report on his desk. He adjusted his glasses and read.
“It was at nine fifteen exactly when the officer, later identified as DC Ashley Clarke, made an offensive racist statement directed at the prisoner Rafi Patel.”
Ashley took a step forward.”No, sir, not me; he’s mistaken me for someone else, he’s made a mistake.”
Roddam smiled. A strange smile, maybe even sympathetic and he removed his glasses.
“I’m afraid he wasn’t, Ashley. I was there too. I heard
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