There’s a misconception that chess grandmasters calculate many more moves ahead than average players. But they don’t; in fact they might consider fewer moves than a lesser player because of their experience. They instinctively know that certain variations are simply not worth taking into account and can be dismissed, whereas others deserve more analysis. Weaker players have to spend time looking at every option because they haven’t got that experience.
I couldn’t honestly pretend that I’d taken those photos with a specific purpose in mind, but experience told me that it was a better move than not taking them. I’m not saying that I’m a grandmaster of investigative work or anything but it slowly dawned on me how I could use the photos for a positive purpose, namely to help Aurora.
37
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” WAS KRISTINA’S RESPONSE THROUGH the intercom on the gate when I turned up at The Willows unannounced.
“I need to talk to you,” I said.
“About what?”
“About Aurora.”
There was a moment’s silence before the gate started to open.
Her eyes didn’t light up nor did she break into a big grin when she opened the door – quite the opposite. She was makeup-free and barefoot in jeans and T-shirt and her hair was up in an untidy bun. I cleverly deduced that the company she’d had last night had left and she wasn’t expecting anyone else, least of all me. Little Misha wasn’t pleased to see me either, and ran around her feet yapping, perhaps having an animal sense of why I was here. A quick kick might have taught it some manners but one of my basic rules is not to kick children or animals, however annoying they might be.
She glanced at the envelope in my hand and tried to read my face.
“There’s something I need to ask you,” I said. Displeasure marked her face as I followed her up the stairs. The place was beginning to feel like home. Jazz fusion came from a record spinning on the turntable and the flowers I’d seen arriving yesterday were in a white vase on the kitchen counter. She turned the music down and pointed to an armchair. She sat on the sofa, legs tucked under her, and picked up a glass of something hot with mint leaves in it. Misha joined her and watched me, a protective look in his beady eyes, seemingly unaware that I was thirty times his size and could easily squash him. I put that from my mind and tried to concentrate on Kristina – this wasn’t a conversation I was looking forward to.
“Remember I mentioned Aurora yesterday?” I asked, just to ease us into it.
“Yes, what of her?”
“She didn’t actually leave the country after all.” I studied her reaction but she just looked confused.
“So why did you tell me she had?”
“I wasn’t sure what you knew or didn’t know about her whereabouts.”
“What?”
“I asked you about Iskender Badem yesterday and you said you didn’t know him that well, which is not what he’s led me to believe.”
She clearly didn’t like that but said nothing so I carried on.
“She was prevented from leaving the UK by one of his men.”
“So she’s still in the country?”
“Badem probably has her stashed somewhere along with other illegals he provides to unscrupulous employers.” I let that sink in a second then said, “I’m particularly interested in your business relationship with him.”
She smiled unpleasantly. “On whose behalf are you here?”
“Aurora’s,” I said without thinking. She laughed and it was as belittling and dismissive as the smile. Misha looked up at her in alarm.
“You are a funny man. Is she paying you?”
“Do you want to know why I’m here or not?”
“I’m dying to know. Please tell me.”
“Badem has Aurora here. He also has her passport. I would like her and her passport back.”
“OK. And you’re telling me this because…?”
“Because I need you to get her and her passport for me. As soon as possible. Now in fact.”
She looked suitably astonished, then, slowly putting her tea down she untucked her legs and made a steeple of her fingers, perhaps in the hope that it gave her composure.
“What makes you think I have a business relationship with Iskender?”
“Because he was quite open about your staffing arrangements.” A flicker in the eyes told me I’d hit home. Her fingers parted and she reached for Misha, looking down at the mutt as he rolled over and she scratched his tummy. I idly wondered who was cleaning up his little shits since Aurora had left.
“All my employees are here legally,” she said. Which was interesting, because I hadn’t said they weren’t.
“Maybe they look legal. But what if Immigration were persuaded to conduct a proper scrutiny of your employees’ documents? Would you survive a second charge of employing people illegally?”
“I can get rid of those women with a phone call,” she said, snapping her fingers. At least she wasn’t denying anything.
“I’m not sure how Badem would like you cutting off his income stream like that. He doesn’t strike me as an understanding type of fellow.”
She studied me to see how serious I was. I guess I must have looked pretty serious.
“Even if I agreed to talk to him what makes you think he’ll hand her over? He’ll probably just laugh at me and deal with you himself. Do you understand what I mean?”
I pointed at my bruised face. “I understand perfectly – it’s his modus operandi. If that is what he says, and it’s likely it will be, you’ll have to convince him that it’s in his interest.”
“Just like that.”
“Look, he won’t want the authorities looking into him as a possible people-trafficker. Explain to him that he’s giving up one woman in order to keep many.”
“Wow. She means this much to you, Aurora?” She forced a laugh. “Are you going to keep her for yourself?”
“Do you really care what happens to her?”
She shrugged. “I need time to think about it.”
“There isn’t time to think about it. He might move her, if he hasn’t already.”
“Go and see him yourself then,” she said, dismissing me with an impatient wave. “Why should I do it for you?”
I pointed to my face again. “He won’t do this to you.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do it,” she said, adamant.
I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.
I opened the envelope and took out the printout with the four photos of her and her silver-fox lover embraced. There was a particularly good one of her dress pulled up and his hands cupping her lacy-knickered buttocks. I held it up so she could see it. She leaned forward to have a look. Her face drained of blood then set like concrete and she muttered something in Russian.
“Do you know who that is?” she whispered, pointing at the sheet.
“Someone who wouldn’t want this made public any more than you would, I’m guessing.” She got up and walked about the room, thinking, watched by me and Misha. I gave her a bit of time, listening to the music before saying, “You can even tell him that he can come after me once I have put Aurora on a plane. That might satisfy his warped sense of honour. But this…” I wiggled the sheet, “…this is your motivation to be really convincing. I’m guessing this revelation would be embarrassing to you and the other party, not to mention damaging to your husband’s career if it were sent to a tabloid.”
She stopped pacing and leant against the kitchen counter. She couldn’t look at me but gave a curt nod, which I took as acquiescence that she would do it.
“Call him now,” I said.
“He’ll want to meet; he doesn’t talk business on the phone.”
“Fine, I want to hear you call him and arrange to meet.”
She looked at me with disgust, got a small glass from a cupboard and filled it from the tap. She picked up her phone and sipped the water before dialling.
“It’s me,” she said. “I need to speak to you. I have
that Armenian detective with me.” She looked at me, expressionless, as she listened. “It’s about the woman who worked at the house,” she said. Then, “No, as soon as possible. I’ll explain when we meet – without the detective.” She hung up.
I stood up. “Good. Call me after you’ve met.”
Her face darkened and her eyes went an odd shade of black. “What a seedy little Armenian you are.”
I held up the photos. “Do you want to keep this copy, as motivation?”
In one movement she reached for the vase of flowers and hurled it at me. It went high, spewing flowers and water, but I ducked instinctively. Hitting the turntable behind me it fragmented, bringing the music to a crashing end and sending the turntable to the floor in pieces. Misha shot from the sofa and disappeared into the study. Yellow petals strewn on the floor were a colourful contrast to the clinical decor.
“I’ll take that as a no,” I said, putting the sheet back in the envelope. I made it to the stairs without anything hitting the back of my head.
I waited in my car down the road, pointing towards Cambridge. I waited with an unpleasant whiff of self-disgust in the car. I had no desire to ruin Kristina’s marriage, whatever I might think of her. Despite my job, I happen to believe that what people get up to as consenting adults is their own business. I justified my actions by thinking of her association with Badem, and of Aurora’s plight. I felt a certain responsibility for what had happened to her, and needed to rectify it, even if it did mean putting up with my own bad smell.
About fifteen minutes later her Range Rover emerged from The Willows and headed in the opposite direction, away from Cambridge. I did a quick U-turn and followed.
38
PARKED IN THE TYRE INFLATION AREA OUTSIDE A SERVICE station with an American-style diner attached, I watched Derin in the distance leaning against the back of Badem’s Bentley, which was parked outside the diner. He was digging inside his nostril with his little finger. Large clouds of blue smoke emanated from a gap in the rear window – I could almost smell the cigar. Kristina had parked nearby and was inside the Bentley. A cigar was tossed out before the window slid closed. I would have given anything to overhear the conversation and had Derin not been outside might have risked approaching the back of the car, although a sound-proofed Bentley doesn’t yield its occupants’ secrets easily. About five minutes later Kristina got out and spoke to Derin, who went to the open door and stuck his head inside. Kristina dialled a number and put the phone to her ear. My phone rang.
“I’ve spoken to Badem,” she said, her Russian drawl more pronounced than usual. “He will bring Aurora to you this evening.”
“So you managed to convince him?”
“Of course.”
“You told him about your problem?”
“No, of course not,” she said, then her voice softened. “So will you destroy the photos now?”
“When I have Aurora. Where and when will he deliver her?”
“To your house. Later. He has to pick her up.”
“We’ll talk soon,” I said, hanging up – let her sweat for a while.
I watched her hang up, go back and say something to Badem whilst wagging her finger, then get in her car and drive off.
I stuck with Badem, for the simple reason that I didn’t believe anything she might have said to Badem or to me. She might have told him that I was being a nuisance and asked him to deal with me. I needed to anticipate the worst. The Bentley, however, didn’t move. Instead, Badem was helped out and made his way into the aluminium-clad diner. He squeezed into a booth and a waitress in a red apron and cap took his order. Derin remained with the Bentley, lighting up a cigarette as he checked his phone, possibly for Facebook likes. As I watched Badem scoff a burger he didn’t need, Leonard turned up in the Ford Focus. Derin waved to him and he pulled up alongside. Leonard got out and handed Derin something he pulled from his jacket. From my vantage point near the petrol station I couldn’t see what it was apart from something he could hold in his hand. I was on view to people filling up with petrol but I got out the small pair of binos I keep in the glove compartment and had a quick look – it was a passport. Maybe he was going to do as I’d asked. Badem came out and had a conflab with Leonard and Derin. There seemed to be some sort of discussion as to what they were wearing. Derin was in trackies and weightlifting tank-top to show off his chest and arms. Leonard was in a jacket and jeans. Derin sulkily gave Leonard back the passport. Badem got into the back of his Bentley again and Derin into the driving seat. Leonard settled into the Ford Focus and I decided that he was the one to follow.
I tailed Leonard north of Cambridge, crossing the A14 into Fenland territory where the horizon stretches three hundred and sixty degrees and produces the type of melancholic washed-out landscape favoured by artists yearning for actual scenery. He was a cautious driver, and the advantage of the flat terrain was that I could keep my distance since his car was easy to spot. The roads got narrower and the houses more infrequent and eventually he turned onto a potholed muddy track that led to a farmhouse. I parked just beyond the entrance on a grassy verge behind a hedge, finding the small pair of binos in the glove compartment – there was no problem using them out here. I had to get out for a better vantage point. The farmhouse was dilapidated, the rendering falling from the walls and the windows obscured by ivy. Run-down wooden outbuildings completed the picture. Leonard removed some bags of shopping from the back of the car, then let himself into the house with a key. There were no other vehicles visible and I was torn between getting closer or waiting. The decision was made for me as Leonard emerged from the house with an anxious-looking Aurora in tow. He closed and locked the front door behind him while she waited, then ushered her into the back of the Focus.
I was obviously relieved to see Aurora, but her appearance made obvious my lack of a plan beyond locating her. For all I knew Leonard was going to deliver her to my house along with her passport, but I had doubts. What I did have on my side was the element of surprise – I could block his exit now and try to overpower him, although I felt a little vulnerable, especially in my already battered state. Plus he was likely to have a Taser on him. The Ford was making its careful way down the uneven track towards the main road. I got in my car and prayed he’d be heading back in the direction he’d come from. I quickly drove on and reversed into the entrance to a field further down the road. I ducked down as he pulled up to the road. He drove away from me, the way he’d come.
To my surprise Leonard drove into Cambridge, even heading towards my part of town north of the river and then approaching my road. Maybe they were actually bringing Aurora to me. But he passed it and parked on a broad tree-lined road four blocks down. The houses here were large semi-detached affairs with an art deco feel set well back from the road. It was near the river, just a five-minute walk from the centre of town and a prime location for families. Rich families. Leonard and Aurora got out of the Focus and he led her up a drive, his hand on her upper arm. From my position nearby I could make them out as he rang the bell. He tried to adjust her hair but she batted his hand away. Before he could admonish her the door opened and he smiled and they both went inside.
Five minutes later he came out of the house, and, from behind a tree, I watched him get in his car and drive off. I went to the Golf and flicked through a business card holder I kept there. I collected any business cards I came across – they could be as convincing as a driving licence for a brief enough period, given the right patter. I found one from someone at the Department for Work and Pensions; I’d done occasional work for them investigating claimants. It would have to do. I went up to the house Leonard had come out of and pressed the doorbell. A pale-skinned auburn-haired woman in a dressing-gown and slippers with the misleadingly older face of a long-term drinker opened the door, releasing the sound of shouting children. Suitcases and cardboard boxes lined the hall. They were either leaving or had just arrived – I suspected the latter; it would be Badem’s way of getting her out of the
way and making some money at the same time. The woman held Aurora’s passport in her hand.
“Yes?”
I flashed the business card. “I’m from the Department for Work and Pensions,” I said, mustering some officiousness. “We’re investigating reports of illegal workers in this area.”
Her face reddened as I looked meaningfully at the passport.
“I’m looking for one Aurora de la Cruz,” I said, reaching out. “Is that her passport?” She recovered her composure, pulling it to her chest.
“Do you have some identification?”
“We can involve the police if you prefer?” I took out my mobile. “I know she’s here. If you check her passport you’ll see her visa ran out some time ago.”
A child, a preteen girl, emerged from a doorway behind her. She was clutching Aurora’s hand, pulling her into the hallway. Aurora looked appropriately staggered to see me.
“Mummy, is she coming to Scotland with us?” the girl said in a wheedling voice.
I reached out and grabbed the passport where it was exposed and we had a slight tug of war. I gestured to Aurora to come forward. She untwined her hand from the girl’s grasp and stepped towards me uncertainly. As she reached the door the woman put her free hand out to stop her progress. Aurora tried to push past but the woman grabbed her arm. I teased the passport free while she was distracted. She reached out for it, letting go of Aurora.
“I paid good money for her,” the woman said.
“That in itself is an admission,” I said, as Aurora emerged from the house and stood slightly behind me. “You may want to consult a lawyer proficient in human-trafficking law before saying anything else.”
“We didn’t know—”
“Ignorance is not an excuse in the eyes of the law. Someone will be round to take a statement,” I said. I made a contrite face to the woman and leant forward conspiratorially, getting a whiff of stale gin. “Look, I shouldn’t really be telling you this but it’s probably best not to contact the people you got her from; you’ll only implicate yourself further.” We walked off and once we were out of sight I gave a bewildered-looking Aurora her passport.
The Surgeon's Case Page 19