But he worked hard for his money. He was in charge of creating situations where illegal behaviour could occur, and making sure it was recorded when it did. He taped a lot of it himself on his mobile phone and with a secret body-worn camera in his lapel, and he copied footage from other sources. According to him he didn’t personally blackmail anyone with the information he recorded but it would not shock me if he had a side hustle that he won’t admit, especially having watched what you’re about to see.
‘Now, he’s no Spielberg, but this is a rough cut of the events that took place at the Chiron Club two years ago, and at the after-party. The first part of the tape is footage from the club.’
I pressed play and Derwent hit the lights as the big TV on the wall flashed into life. The footage was amateurishly shaky but organised, starting with a long shot of the big, brass-mounted calendar in the hall showing it was the twenty-second of July. The recording cut out, to be replaced by a shot of three men huddled together, snorting coke off the back of their hands. The camera panned over their faces and then swung away to face the floor.
‘Do we know who they are?’ Burt asked.
‘I don’t recognise them,’ I said, ‘but I’m sure Hooper knows exactly who he was filming.’
The next few minutes consisted of jumpy, poorly filmed incidents – a fist fight, a man groping a waitress, another forcing his dining companion’s head down towards his crotch while she fought to free herself and the other men at the table roared. He had filmed Antoinette’s conversation with Peter Ashington and his companion through a doorway. They walked out of view, Peter turning to grin knowingly at the other man whose face was still hidden. I felt sick as I watched her disappear to her fate, knowing what awaited her.
‘That’s the girl who was raped in the cloakroom,’ I explained for the benefit of the others. ‘Here’s footage of Hooper getting the funds to pay her off. That’s one of the administrative staff at the club. We don’t know if she knew what the money was for, but as you can see, she doesn’t seem surprised to be asked for it.’
The angle was off, the woman appearing diagonally as she counted out the money, licking her finger to speed up the process. She looked bored, as if this was routine. Hooper filmed the stack of money disappearing into the envelope. Then a jump to Antoinette, her mascara smudged under her eyes, sobbing as a grey suit helped her into a car.
‘This all corroborates Antoinette’s story,’ I said. ‘If we want to charge Peter Ashington with rape, this is going to be useful.’
‘Why wouldn’t we charge him?’ Colin Vale asked.
‘I need Antoinette’s cooperation to take it further, and the CPS may not approve a charge if they feel there’s no chance of getting a conviction. He says she knew what was going to happen and pretended to put up a fight so they had the thrill of forcing her. She took the money afterwards, which helps his case. And he’s plausible. I actually think he believes that story even though I know Antoinette was telling me the truth. But who’s going to get the benefit of the doubt?’ I pulled a face. ‘I don’t know if I’d give evidence in her shoes. It wouldn’t be fun.’
‘It’s not meant to be fun. It might stop him from doing it to someone else,’ Derwent snapped. ‘Don’t you think she has a duty to other women to try and have him locked up?’
I looked at him in the half-light from the TV, surprised at his tone. ‘I think it’s up to her to decide what’s best for her recovery.’
‘What happens next?’ Una Burt asked.
‘Then we get some footage of Sir Marcus making his acceptance speech. Hooper filmed this properly, with his camera the right way up. Presumably no one minded him filming it.’
The screen filled with Sir Marcus bowing and laughing as he prepared to cut an enormous cake with a long sword. Two of the men grabbed one of the girls and bent her over so he could pretend to cut off her head. Then he drew up her skirt and smacked her bottom with the flat of the sword. A roar of approving laughter went up from the throng. When the men released her, she stumbled away, clearly upset.
‘Those bastards,’