The Landlord's Protégé

All sexual activity in this story is between adults over eighteen years.

Chapter Twelve

It was Wednesday morning when Victor's world changed. He was woken at five in the morning by a hammering on the door and the shout.

"Police, open this door now!"

He pulled on a dressing gown and opened the door, only to be knocked off his feet by five large policemen who pinned him to the ground and handcuffed him. Then they stood him up, led him to the living room and sat him down on the sofa.

He was so shocked he hardly heard the inspector telling him that they had a search warrant in respect of child pornography. He watched as the team tore the flat apart. They retrieved some photographs which had been secreted at the back of the guest bedroom wardrobe. They had been clearly printed off a computer,

They disconnected the computer and took it away and then formally arrested him for possession of child pornography. He was already handcuffed and was led down the stairs and taken to the police station where he was processed and taken to an interview room.

Outside the flats there had been a number of photographers and the flashes of their cameras lit up the area like strobe lighting. It caused Victor to wonder how they knew this would occur.

By now he had begun to comprehend what was happening to him. They left him in the room with a constable to guard him for about an hour, bringing him a cup of tea after half an hour. Then the detective inspector arrived with a detective sergeant. They started the interview recorder and provided the usual information: who was in the room, the time etc.

They sat down with a folder in front of them and stared at him. He stared back. He'd been used to intimidation in his army training and these two were amateurs by comparison with his army trainers and were not going to worry him.

The inspector delved in the file and produced a few photographs.

"These were found in your possession -- hidden in your flat. Can you explain why you have such items?"

Victor knew better than to protest his innocence. That might come later, but it was clear that they had evidence and would not believe him.

"No," he said.

"They are yours?"

"No," he said.

"Come on, they were in your flat. How did they get there if they're not yours?"

"I don't know."

"Who has a key to your flat?"

"I do. The woman on the ground floor cleans my flat. She's still got a key. The managing agent, who's a friend of mine."

"Anyone else?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"We have your computer. I think we'll find plenty of stuff you've downloaded. It doesn't matter how carefully you've hidden it, we'll find it."

"Are you going to charge me?"

"I think that's inevitable. Why don't you come clean and admit it. It'll help you in court."

"I want my solicitor."

"All in good time. When did you start downloading this stuff?"

"I am being held for questioning," Victor insisted. "I want my solicitor. Are you denying me that right?"

"No."

"Then I'll wait until he arrives."

"You're not helping yourself, you know."

"You are accusing me of what I consider to be a terrible crime. Offences against children are the worst kind. Either get my solicitor or let me go. I'm not answering any more questions until he arrives."

The two policemen continued to ask questions but Victor kept silence, staring at them with a bored expression. Eventually they gave up and asked him for his solicitor's name. When they heard it was Gordon Collins they were not happy -- he was the best in the area. He also happened to be a personal friend of Victor, who knew he would drop everything to come to him.

Victor was taken to a cell, where he relaxed himself and thought through the events that had happened. Then Gordon arrived. Victor told him of the events that had befallen him.

"I have to ask, Victor," Gordon said, almost apologetically. "Did you download the stuff?"

Victor just looked at him.

"OK, I didn't think so," Gordon went on. "So how did whoever did this get into your flat, and if this filth is on your computer, how did they get there?"

"I've been away for quite a long time, so no one could have got access unless they got the key from Susan. George is the only other person with a key to my flat."

"Any sign of a break-in?"

"No."

"Keys?"

"As I said, keys to the flat: George, me and Susan downstairs."

"Do you think she's been careless with her keys?"

"She's extremely efficient, Gordon. I don't think so."

"It's time to speak to the inspector." He knocked on the door and left the cell.

Half an hour passed and then he returned.

"I asked some questions about the raid, and about forensic evidence of any intruders. Got some evasive replies. Same with regard to the computer -- I asked if they had got any prints from the machine. They hadn't taken any! So I told them that when I brought that up in court their case would start to look thin if they hadn't done the forensics properly.

"And I did point out that if there were someone else's prints or DNA in the flat, the case against you would look weak, and should they not have done a proper examination of the computer and the premises it would look as if they were withholding evidence to secure a conviction. They didn't like it, but I think they'll work a little harder now.

"Anyway, the upshot is that you're being released on police bail while they investigate further. You won't be able to go back to the flat -- it's sealed off."

"I'll go to the house."

"I'll give them the address, Victor," Gordon said grimly. "Don't disappear on me. Oh, and they'll probably want to search the house as well."

Victor shrugged. "As long as they let me live there afterwards." He muttered. Then he stopped short.

"Come to think about it, Susan said she thought someone had been in the flat while I was on holiday. She cleans regularly and notices when things have been even slightly moved. I was going to ask George about it. I thought he might have had to go in there. Slipped my mind to ask him."

"I'll get on to that," said Gordon, "and I'll keep in regular touch."

Victor was processed and left the building with Gordon. Once again there were photographers and a TV crew to chronicle their departure. Gordon picked up his car and he drove Victor to the house.

As soon as Victor got inside he set the surveillance to audio/visual. It was remotely activated and the remote was in his pocket. He expected the police would come searching the house and having seen what they did to the flat, he wanted evidence to gain compensation.

He also wanted a full record of what was said and done. He turned on the TV for the News and saw a report from outside the police station about his arrest and release on bail for child pornography. The reporter, though keeping well within the law, managed to convey his guilt quite effectively, largely through innuendo.

He was right about the police search. It was only half an hour after he had arrived when the police arrived. There were four officers led by a detective sergeant.

"We have a warrant to search the premises," said the sergeant, pushing past him.

Victor had his hand in his pocket, and pressed the remote to activate the micro-cameras and microphones in each room.

"I trust you'll leave the place as you find it," said Victor.

"Listen, you dirty little toe-rag," the sergeant growled, turning towards him, "by the time we've finished you'll have nowhere to sit and nowhere to sleep. I hate you child molesters. You need a good seeing to, so keep your mouth shut or my mates here will give you a lesson in manners."

"I think you'll regret that remark," he said to the sergeant's back.

"You what?"

"You heard."

"Charlie," he shouted, "teach this runt a few manners."

Charlie came back to the hall. He swung a punch at Victor' midriff, who rolled with it and held the policeman's arm as it past his stomach. His grip on the pressure point rendered the man helpless.

"Not a good idea, constable," whispered Victor. "You never know who might be watching."

Victor was pinioned by two sets of arms and given a good going over. Then he was arrested and taken back to the police station, where he was charged with assaulting a police officer.

Once again he called Gordon. Once in the cell together he spoke quietly.

"Go to the house, Gordon. Get photos of the damage. I also want photos of my face. You know where the recorders are -- you know the ones I mean?"

"You crafty bugger -- you recorded the whole thing?"

Victor smiled. Gordon left. Victor spent the night in the cells. It did not bother him. He'd often had to sleep in worse accommodation while on a mission.

---

Next morning Gordon was in the magistrates' court having spoken with Victor in the cells earlier. He had a malicious grin on his face. The police had not found the recorders -- they were well hidden. It seemed that the search had been superficial though Victor's computer was taken and only his study, living room and bedroom ransacked.

Victor gave his name and address. Then the charge was read that he gave verbal abuse to one of the officers and later attacked another officer.

"How to you plead?" asked the chair of the magistrates, a severe looking woman.

"Not guilty."

The magistrate sighed and glanced despairingly at her two fellow magistrates. The sergeant was called. He read from his notebook that Victor had abused his officer and when told to keep quiet had launched an unprovoked attack on a constable. It had required two more officers to restrain Victor, who was then arrested and brought to the station. Victor had made no comment from then on.

Gordon then stood and faced the policeman.

"You are aware you are under oath?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you are aware of the punishment for perjury and perverting the course of justice?"

"Yes, sir," said the policeman, shooting a look of boredom at the magistrates.

"Mr. Collins," said the Chair, testily, "is there some point to this?"

"Oh, yes, your honour," said Gordon, "there is indeed!"

"Go on," she said in a bored tone.

"Knowing this," said Gordon, once again addressing the policeman, "do you wish to change your evidence in any way?"

"No, sir, that is what happened."

Gordon turned to the bench.

"I have submitted evidence of an audio and visual nature to the Police Complaints Commission this morning. Mr Freeman has video and audio surveillance at the house, and it recorded what went on. I submit an audio copy of the conversations which took place."

He gave a CD to the clerk.

"And I have a series of still photographs taken from that video evidence."

He passed them also to the clerk.

"Play the CD," said the Chair, "and show the photographs."

As the conversation played, Sergeant Buckley at first looked puzzled and then paled. The sound was clear and the photos were graphic.

"You see, your honour, the constable throwing a punch at my client, then my client holding him still, then the other two constables attacking my client. Nowhere is there any sign of a struggle on my client's part. The audio speaks for itself." He allowed himself a little smirk at the truism.

"Why was this not presented earlier?" asked the Chair.

"I could not gain access to the house until this morning, and after what my client told me of the police attitude I did not deem it sensible to give the evidence over to them directly, before informing the IPCC. I think the fabrication put forward by Sergeant Buckley bears out my fears."

The case was dismissed. There was comment from the bench that the Independent Police Complaints Commission and that the Crown Prosecution Service would be taking a keen interest in the evidence presented by the police.

Outside the court once again the cameras flashed and a TV reporter walked alongside him while a cameraman walked backwards in front of him. She shouted questions at him as he walked away with Gordon. He ignored the woman and they reached the peace of the car.

"I always suspected that Buckley was bent," said Gordon as he drove Victor back to the house. "I think you may still be in some danger. Can you protect yourself?"

"I think so," said Victor. "I have friends."

"Good. Don't delay."

When they arrived at the house, there was already a clean-up squad hard at work. It had been initiated by Gordon. When the squad left, the house was almost back to normal. Then and only then did Gordon leave.

Victor made some phone calls and by evening two men and two women had arrived, men and women with whom he had served in the army special forces. They were prepared to stay for a prolonged stay. One of the men, Gary, was married to one of the women, Judy, and the other two, Jeanette and Terry, were divorced, though not from each other.

Victor had outlined the whole thing to them. They knew something of the matter, since there had been a couple of light news days and his story had made the national news.

They knew he could not be guilty; they had experienced his views on abuse from the time in the field dealing with civilians after soldiers had been shot. While there were other units that raped and abused, no one in Victor's unit dared so much to touch the innocent; revenge was out.

There were the inevitable abusive calls which the team fielded to relieve Victor of further distress.

On Friday he decided to try to contact Susan, but only reached her answer-phone. He asked her to call him but there was no response over the next days.

On Saturday, Gordon arrived. He did not look happy. As he was admitted by Jeanette, he saw the silent men and the other woman and he looked relieved.

He did not ask who they were; he could see they were effective. Instead he got down to business.

"It's a mixture of good and bad, Victor. The police are taking the forensics a lot more seriously, especially after the search here. That will take time. What they can do is date when the stuff was downloaded from the internet.

"Whoever did this was not all that clever. The printouts they found in the spare room also had the date they were printed in the corner. That coincides with the middle of your holiday in Scotland. I don't feel like being all that helpful to the police. We'll wait till they ask you where you were.

"I think this is an attack on you personally. Someone hates you, Victor"

----

Chapter Thirteen

Susan did not see Victor after the Sunday they were at the park together. Seth did not visit either. On Wednesday just before five in the morning, she was wakened by her entry phone ringing. She struggled to the office and opened up, seeing the police at the door at the same time as they appeared on the screen. She left the office to open the door to them.

"Thanks darllin'" said the officer in charge.

"What is it?" she asked.

"We're arresting someone. We need to surprise them."

"Who?"

"Sorry darlin'. Can't tell you."

And with that they crammed themselves into the lift and the door shut. She watched the numbers as it rose and was surprised they went to the top floor. She heard the hammering on the door and the shouting, then there was silence. She went back into her flat and locked up.

She couldn't understand it. Victor was obviously rich, but seemed to have strong morals; how could he be guilty of crimes? She finally convinced herself that it must have been a mistake on their part, and went back to bed.

The morning was wet, cold and windy, and Susan was pre-occupied with getting Gail off to nursery. Amy arrived at ten and Susan decided to go and clean Victor's flat. When she arrived at the top floor, she was surprised to see the flat taped off as a crime scene, and a policeman standing outside. He smiled at her.

"What's going on?" she asked, "I'm supposed to be cleaning this flat."

"No chance of that, Miss," he smiled. "SOCO are going over the place."

"SOCO?" she queried.

"Scene of Crime Officers," he answered. "CSI if you watch TV," and he laughed.

"What's he supposed to have done?"

"Can't tell you that Miss."

So she turned away and went back to her office.

Mid-afternoon, she had just returned with Gail. The rain was still falling and she had used the car. The police van had gone but in its place was a small police car. As she approached the door to the block, two policewomen emerged from the car and met her, asking if they could talk with her. She ushered them inside out of the rain.

They asked what she knew about Victor, what sort of relationship they had. What sort of a person was he? Did she feel comfortable with him?

Then they went on to ask about Gail's behaviour since he had become close to them as a family, and she enthused about how happy the little girl was; how she longed for him to visit.

Did she seem more reserved? Did she wet the bed? Susan began to ask where these questions were leading, but they did not answer her; instead they asked more questions.

Did she leave the children alone with him? Did he try to get the children alone? The answer to which was that he greatly preferred her around, but that he baby-sat for her in emergencies, and that he was very good with them.

She tried to get answers but none came and eventually the two women left. She sat and wondered what was going on. Again she assured herself that he could not possibly be a criminal -- he had strong moral values. She shook herself and busied herself with the children, giving them their evening meal and preparing them for bed.

The children were asleep when Seth arrived.

"See?" he began, "I told you he was a pervert."

"Who?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"That pedophile upstairs, that's who."

"Victor?" she laughed, "Don't be ridiculous."

"Why d'you think the police have him, then? They found photographs in his flat. Nasty ones. They've taken away his computer, and I'll bet they find more on there."

"How d'you know that, Seth?" she asked, alarmed, "The police wouldn't tell me anything. How come you know all this?"

"I've a couple of mates in the police. They wanted to warn me to take care of Gail with him around."

"Don't be stupid," she snapped. "I'd know if there was anything like that happening. He's natural and careful with the children. Why, he doesn't like doing anything personal with them if I'm not there with him."

"A smoke screen," asserted Seth, "to make you trust him. I bet he's been at her when he's babysat for you."

"Seth," said Susan patiently, "children behave differently if they've been abused. Her nursery would have noticed a change. Hell,

I

would have noticed."

"Well, perhaps you're too besotted with him to admit anything's wrong. Listen, I don't want him anywhere near the children from now on, or I'll be asking social services to take them off you. In any case, I bet the police will want Gail questioned."

A wisp of fear snaked round her heart. The first misgivings about the man she thought was her most trusted friend began to rise.

"Anyway," Seth said rising to leave, "I've got to get to work. Remember what I said: don't let him near the children."

As it turned out, there was no need for her to keep the children away from anyone, since Victor did not reappear. She wondered if he'd been kept on remand in prison, and what exactly it was for.

She was doing the books on Friday afternoon when Seth arrived again.

"They've really got him now!" he crowed. "The police raided his house outside town. Did you know he had another place? My mate was in charge of the raid. Anyway, Freeman attacked one of the police doing the raid. Bastard got off of course, rich blokes get good briefs and swing it, but they're going to do him for the stuff they found in the flat."

Susan had been standing, but now she sank down onto the sofa. Her mind was in turmoil, emotions tumbling over one another. Fear. Had he managed to get to Gail? Her little daughter didn't seem to be troubled: she was completely natural with him.