revenge, that he wanted those responsible for sending him to prison to suffer. This happened barely six months after he was released. Then in December, Anton Liebig is killed in a supposed car accident and finally Reggie Williamson is stabbed to death on Middlesbury Common. It’s too much of a coincidence.”
It wasn’t enough. Warren knew, but he couldn’t dismiss it. “So who was feeding the information to Obsanjo? You said that you thought it was authentic, that somebody had been passing material on.”
Sheehy shrugged. “I don’t know. You know how big these sorts of operations are. Middlesbury was taking point because of our local knowledge and connections but there was a huge team behind this down at Welwyn. It could have been any one of them. Vinny Delmarno’s got deep pockets; he could definitely afford to pay somebody.”
Warren chewed his lip, thinking hard. The idea that there were other corrupt officers beyond Sheehy—maybe even officers he knew and worked with—left a sour taste in his mouth. “What about Tony?”
Sheehy grimaced. “What they did to him was spite, pure and simple. There was no reason to suspect him, other than his friendship with me. They humiliated him, dragging him into this. Poor bloke didn’t even know what it was about.”
“You know that he’s been summonsed?”
Sheehy nodded and sighed. “I’m innocent, but I’m a detective—I can put myself in their shoes. I can see why they arrested me and why they are confident of a conviction. But there’s no need to drag Tony into this. What’s he going to say? That I sometimes used my mobile phone or that I wasn’t always available?
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