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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 a
nd 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.
