Chapter 54

Chapter 54

He stared at them, dead-eyed and hostile, defiance etched in his sullen features.

‘If you've pulled me in about the Freemantle shooting, you're barking up the wrong tree. I don't know nothing about that.'

Brent Mason scratched at his stubble, staring assertively at the two women opposite him. Charlie could have laughed out loud, his ‘attack is the best form of defence' strategy woefully misguided. Shooting a look at Helen, she turned back to Mason.

‘But you do run with the Main Street crew, right? Dealing, picking up money, making drops …'

‘Never, not once,' the dealer spat back, defiant.

‘Brent, you had a very healthy quantity of cocaine on you when you were picked up earlier, all in neat little bags.'

‘Not mine. I wouldn't touch that kind of shit.'

Mason was scowling at Charlie, openly defiant, so Helen stepped in now, keen to put him at his ease.

‘The good news, Brent, is that you're not here to talk about that or about the Freemantle incident.'

Nodding slowly, Mason sat back slowly in his chair, relief mingling with suspicion. His eyes remained on Helen, so she continued.

‘I understand that you ran into one of our officers three nights ago in the Lordship Road underpass. The same officer who felt your collar this morning, in fact,' Helen continued briskly. ‘Ring any bells?'

‘You'll have to remind me?'

‘PC Beth Beamer spoke to you just after 9 p.m. on Thursday, the ninth of November. She suspected that you were in possession of Class C drugs, potentially with intent to supply, so she patted you down.'

Mason was about to protest, so Helen nipped in first.

‘Brent, we've got the whole encounter on film, thanks to her bodycam. The conversation, your face, the date and time and the baggies she retrieved from your green North Face puffa, so please, can we cut the crap?'

Once again, the dealer looked taken aback, surprised by the level of detail in her accusation, but swiftly affected nonchalance, shrugging as if begrudgingly granting Helen a favour.

‘What more is there to say then? If all this is about a bloody possession charge, you really haven't got enough to do,' he goaded.

‘It's about who else was with you in the tunnel that night,' Charlie interjected. ‘We're not interested in your dealing – unless we feel you're keeping things from us of course. Tell me, do you recognize this girl?'

She slid a photo of Naomi Watson across the table towards the dealer. Reluctantly, Brent Mason picked it up, studying it closely.

‘What is she? Hooker? Junkie? Homeless?' he asked.

‘The latter, but new to the scene.'

‘Don't remember seeing her,' Mason continued, replacing the photo on the table. ‘But there's always a fair few of them down there, so I'm not sure I'd be able to pick out any individuals.'

‘And what about this guy?'

Helen handed him a recent photo of Ryan Marwood. Again, he appeared to scrutinize it closely but Helen could immediately tell from his dilating pupils that the dealer recognized him. Brent was probably already attempting to cobble together a lie to distance himself from this depraved, notorious figure, so Helen jumped in quickly.

‘I can see you know him, but I don't need to know the full history. I just need you to tell me whether you saw him in the Lordship Road underpass on Thursday evening?'

There was a long pause, Brent looking from Helen to Charlie and back again, buying himself valuable seconds. He was obviously weighing up what answer they wanted, what response might get him off the hook.

‘Yeah, he was there. Turned up around 9.15, I think.'

Helen felt the knot in her stomach relax. He was hardly an ideal witness, but at least they had some proof that Marwood was there that night.

‘How can you be sure?'

‘Because I spoke to him.'

Now it was Helen's turn to look surprised.

‘You actually engaged with him, had a conversation?'

‘Sure,' Mason replied cautiously. ‘We … we do business together every once in a while.'

‘Plain English, please, Brent,' Helen insisted. ‘Do you mean you're his dealer?'

‘Guess so,' he responded, sniffing loudly and looking up to the ceiling, as if that would help his confession fly away.

‘How long's this been going on?'

‘Six months, on and off?'

‘Pretty much straight after he was released,' Charlie interjected, doing the maths.

‘And what did he buy from you?' Helen continued, keeping the pressure on.

‘All sorts, weed, uppers, downers. But recently, well, it's just been the hard stuff really.'

‘Specifics?'

‘Heroin.'

Now Mason's gaze was nailed to the floor, but Helen waved away his concerns.

‘Brent, like I said, I'm not interested in how you pay your way in life, but I do want to clarify the circumstances of your encounter with Ryan Marwood that night. So please, tell me, in detail, exactly what happened.'

Relaxing back into his chair, the fidgeting dealer replied:

‘Well, I guess I got there about just before 9 p.m. It's a good spot for me, easy to access, no cameras in the tunnel, customers like it. Anyhow, like I said, around 9.15 I see this van pull up. And Marwood's at the wheel.'

‘Could this have been the van?' Charlie interrupted, slipping Mason a photo of the Renault Movano.

‘Looks about right. It was definitely that colour, and that kind of shape, boxy you know …'

‘Did you see the van enter the tunnel?'

‘Sure, I was looking that way when he drove up.'

‘And what happened during your conversation with him?'

‘The usual. Bit of banter, then he asked for the gear. He had the cash on him, so I nodded to a pal, who brought it over.'

‘And then?' Helen queried, trying to conceal her anxiety.

‘Then nothing. He took off and I hung around for the next punter.'

‘He drove off.'

‘Sure. He wanted to get stuck into the gear, I guess. He looked fucking twitchy.'

‘You saw the van leave the tunnel?'

‘Aye,' Mason replied quizzically, confused by the intensity and seriousness of Helen's tone.

‘He didn't stop elsewhere in the tunnel? Talk to anyone? Pick anyone up?'

‘No, he burned off. Left me with a mouth full of fumes.'

‘And he didn't return later? He couldn't have driven back in without you noticing?'

Helen knew this was nigh on impossible, especially as there was no footage of Marwood doing so, but she had to be sure.

‘No way. I was keeping a close eye on every vehicle that drove past. You've got to at the moment, with all the shit going on.'

Helen looked at Charlie, then turned back to the dealer, her expression grave.

‘Honest to God, that's exactly what happened,' Mason protested, clearly weirded out by the mood shift in the room. ‘He drove in, got the gear, drove out, end of story. Now did you want anything else from me or can I go?'

‘Sure you can,' Helen confirmed, rising, before adding, ‘First thing in the morning.'

‘What?' the dealer shot back, aghast. ‘I ain't spending a night in no custody cell.'

‘Oh, I think you are, Brent,' Helen countered swiftly. ‘You don't get picked up with that amount of cocaine on you and expect to waltz straight out of here …'

‘No, no, that wasn't the deal. You said you didn't care how I made my dough …'

The dealer continued to protest, but Helen had already turned away, heading fast for the door, her mind whirring. Though Brent Mason had a relaxing evening in the cells to look forward to, for Helen and Charlie the night was just beginning. Though he had no way of knowing it, the small-time dealer had just cleared Ryan Marwood of any involvement in the abduction of Naomi Watson.