“Call Mr. Collier!” bellowed a policeman standing by the entrance to the court.
Sebastian watched with interest as Mr. Collier entered the room and made his way to the witness box. He was a little over six foot, with thick dark hair and a beard that gave him the look of a sea captain. He had an open and honest face, and Barry Hammond had written in his report that Collier spent his Sunday mornings refereeing mini rugby. But Barry had dug up something that just might give Mr. Gray the chance to draw first blood. However, that would have to wait, because he was the Crown’s witness, so Mr. Carman would be called to examine him first.
When Mr. Collier delivered the oath, he didn’t need to read the card held up by the clerk of the court. His voice was firm and confident, with no suggestion of nerves. The jury were already looking at him with respect.
Mr. Carman rose slowly from his place, opened a red file in front of him and began his examination. “Would you please state your name for the record?”
“David Collier.”
“And your occupation?”
“I’m a senior customs officer, currently working out of Heathrow.”
“How long have you been a customs officer, Mr. Collier?”
“Twenty-seven years.”
“So it would be fair to say that you are a man who has reached the top of his chosen profession?”
“I would like to think so.”
“Let me go further, Mr. Collier, and suggest—”
“You needn’t go any further,” interjected Mr. Justice Urquhart, glaring down from the bench at senior counsel. “You have established Mr. Collier’s credentials, so I suggest you move on.”
“I’m most grateful, my lord,” said Carman, “for your confirmation of Mr. Collier’s undoubted qualifications as an expert witness.” The judge frowned, but made no further comment. “Mr. Collier, can I confirm that you were the senior customs officer on duty on the morning the defendant, Mr. Bishara, was arrested and taken into custody.”
“Yes I was, sir.”
“When Mr. Bishara entered the green channel, indicating that he had nothing to declare, did you stop him and ask to inspect his baggage?”
“Yes I did, sir.”
“How much luggage was he carrying?”
“Just an overnight bag, nothing else.”
“And was this simply a random check?”
“No, sir. We had received a tip-off that a passenger on flight 207 from Lagos would be attempting to smuggle a consignment of heroin into the country.”
“How was this tip-off made?”
“By phone, sir. About thirty minutes before the plane landed.”
“Did the informant give you his name?”
“No, sir, but that’s not unusual because informants in cases of this kind are often drug dealers themselves. They may want a rival removed or punished for not having paid for a previous consignment.”
“Was the conversation with the informant recorded?”
“All such conversations are taped, Mr. Carman, in case they are needed as evidence in a trial at a later date.”
“Might I suggest, my lord,” said Carman, looking up at the bench, “that this would be an appropriate moment for the jury to hear the tape?”
The judge nodded, and the clerk of the court walked over to a table in the center of the room where a Grundig tape recorder had been set up. He looked toward the judge, who nodded once again, and pressed the Play button.
“Customs office, Heathrow,” said a female voice.
“Put me through to the senior customs officer.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“No, you may not.”
“I’ll see if he’s available.” The hum of the whirring tape continued for some time before another voice came on the line. “SCO Collier. How can I help you?”
“If you’re interested, I can tell you about some drugs that a passenger will be trying to smuggle in today.”
Sebastian noticed that Mr. Gray was making copious notes on his yellow pad.
“Yes, I’m interested,” said Collier. “But first, would you tell me your name?”
“The passenger’s name is Hakim Bishara. He’s well known in the trade and is traveling on flight 207 from Lagos. He has thirteen ounces of heroin in his overnight bag.” Click, burr.
“What did you do next, Mr. Collier?”
“I contacted a colleague in passport control and asked him to inform me the moment Mr. Bishara had been cleared.”
“And he did so?”
“Yes. When Mr. Bishara entered the green channel a few minutes later, I stopped him and inspected his overnight bag, the one piece of luggage in his possession.”
“And did you find anything unusual?”
“A cellophane package secreted in a side pocket of the bag containing thirteen ounces of heroin.”
“How did Mr. Bishara react when you found this package?”
“He looked surprised and claimed he had never seen it before.”
“Is that unusual, Mr. Collier?”
“I’ve never known a dealer admit to smuggling drugs. They always look surprised and behave impeccably. It’s their only defense should the case come to court.”