The Walking Dead

Through the gates, past the dense rhododendrons, the grounds opened out, and beyond the flat grasslands — big enough for half a dozen soccer pitches — was the old edifice of the building. David Banks, detective constable, barely noticed the brick and stone façade, or the folly towers high over the main entrance. He hadn't seen the lake, the ducks and geese on the water. He was in no mood for sightseeing, no mood for a bloody tourist expedition to Snaresbrook Crown Court. He parked in a bay that was supposedly restricted to the disabled.

'Don't blame me, Banksy. You've made a rod for your own back…Yes, I did approach both Golf and Kilo, but a bad word is like a bad smell. It spreads, got me? Neither of them wanted you. I'm sorry, but I've done what I can for you. Maybe in the next few days you should reflect on where you've put yourself, then sort yourself out…In the situation we have in London right now, I don't have any more time to devote to your personal situation, Banksy. My final word on all this is that the guys you should be working with have lost confidence in you. As Protection Officers, at a time of maximum threat, they have the right to expect total loyalty from all members of their teams. Sadly, they've got it in their heads that if push comes to shove you'll blink and won't pull the trigger. Don't worry, you won't be sitting around twiddling your thumbs, your feet up, while the guys are doing their stuff. No, in answer to a request for manpower, you're going to leafy Snaresbrook to do valuable work in the field of jury protection. You made your own bed, Banksy, so go and lie on it.'

He'd left his inspector's door open behind him, had heard the REMF's shout for him to close it. Had ignored him and kept on walking.

Down in the basement armoury, he had drawn his Glock, ammunition, a ballistic blanket, a sack of gas canisters and stun grenades, and a first-aid box. For once, Daff had not helped. The armourer had told him cheerfully that every man and woman authorized to carry a firearm was out on the streets of London, that his shelves were stripped 'damn near bare'…but had added, with a widening grin, that 'Protecting a jury is pretty important work, don't you know?' He'd rammed the pistol into the belt holster, heaved the rest of the kit into his bag and the final rejoinder from Daff had been, 'And don't shoot the bloody judge, Banksy…' He'd gone to his car, slammed it into gear and driven east of the city where lock-down had settled.

He went into the building, used the main door at the side of the bloody useless and decrepit façade; showed his warrant card and asked for court eighteen. It was years since he had been in a Crown Court. One of the precious few advantages of being a Protection Officer and fawning over Principals was that the days of hanging around court corridors waiting to give evidence were finished. God, and it came back to him fast, the smell of those places. Banks saw the sign and stamped towards it.

Three uniformed men were by the double doors. He did not acknowledge them, strode past them and heaved on the doors' handles. They were locked and he couldn't shift them. He heard a titter — like it was good to see a pompous sod, without the time of day for colleagues, put down.

Banks barked first the statement, then his question. 'I'm with the protection outfit. Where are they?'

An usher was called. He was told he would be taken to the room where the rest of his people were gathered.

The usher, disabled and dragging his foot, led him, and chattered: 'Grand place, isn't it? I suppose it's your first time down here, you not knowing where to go…Biggest Crown Court in the country, does more than two thousand five hundred cases a year in twenty court rooms, a proper mass-production line. Wonderful building. Started off as an orphanage and was completed — money no object — in 1843. The main supply of stone was from Yorkshire, but the facings were from Bath and France. Fell into disrepair and was turned into a court in the middle 1970s, but they had a heck of a problem with the foundations and had to put three thousand tons of concrete under the main building so it didn't collapse. We see it all here…What's going on in court eighteen, anyway?'

'Haven't any idea,' Banks said. 'As you reckoned, it's my first time here.'