Release: A gripping, fast-paced thriller

by Karen Moore

  “Even the gin is Welsh. It comes from a distillery a few miles away,” said Rhys, as he fetched glasses and started to prepare the drinks. “They do quite a range now. You may want to take some home with you.”

  “Magari! If only,” said Sergio. “But I don’t think bottles of gin in my hand luggage would go down too well with airport security. Shame, though, especially now that Ceri’s taken a liking to it, too.”

  Hanna seemed to remember that gin had always been a favourite tipple of Ceri’s. Had she gone off it at some point that Hanna couldn’t remember? She felt a sudden pang that the distance between them could be affecting their close friendship. A noise distracted her. Eva was trying to drag the suitcase across the floor.

  “Eva, leave that, please!” said Hanna, “Here, let me take it up to Sergio’s room out of the way.”

  “I was only trying to help,” said Eva, looking crestfallen.

  “I know, poppet, but it’s a bit heavy for you.” Hanna took the case off her and disappeared momentarily upstairs. Rhys handed her a tumbler as she returned to the lounge.

  “Cin, cin!” said Sergio, raising his glass in a toast. “Here’s to a successful conclusion of this affair, whatever that may be.”

  “Absolutely,” said Hanna at the same time Rhys said, “We’ll all drink to that.”

  “Can we eat now?” Eva whined. “I’m starving!”

  Hanna laughed. “’Course, we can, sweet pea! I think we all are. Come and give me a hand in the kitchen.”

  ***

  Dinner was a noisy affair that reminded Hanna of her former life in Sicily. The happy days before she’d discovered the truth about Luciano. It was a chance to catch up with the wedding preparations and discuss Rhys’ speech. Little was said about the real reason for Sergio’s visit.

  After they’d finished the smoked mackerel pâté starter, Hanna brought over the pièce de résistance: a platter bearing a leg of roast lamb, still sizzling from the oven, surrounded by crisp roast potatoes, all cooked in garlic and rosemary.

  Eva clapped her hands in delight. “Yummy, yummy! My favourite!”

  Another of her favourites, thought Hanna with a smile.

  “Meraviglioso!” said Sergio, grinning. “If you’re going to feed me like this, I’ll have to go on a diet when I get home, otherwise I won’t fit into my wedding suit!”

  “Get away with you!” replied Hanna, setting the platter on the table. “It’s not only in Sicily where you can eat well, you know. I thought you might appreciate some Welsh lamb.”

  “Obviously!” said Sergio, almost salivating as he watched Rhys set about carving the joint. “But I see that you’ve kept the wine Italian.” He pointed to the bottle of Barbera, opened earlier and left to breathe. “Shall I do the honours?”

  Hanna nodded and went to fetch the vegetables and gravy. Sergio poured the wine and they each helped themselves to the plentiful food. Once their plates were piled high, Rhys raised his glass.

  “A toast,” he said, “to the coming nuptials. May you and Ceri have a fabulous day and a long and happy life together.”

  “I’ll drink to that!” said Sergio, taking a sip of the robust red wine.

  “Hear, hear!” said Hanna, almost simultaneously, while Eva giggled and slurped her apple juice.

  Bryn barked and lurked by the side of the table, hoping for titbits.

  “No,” said Rhys sternly. “You’re not to beg at the table. Go and lie down.”

  The dog slunk off and did what he was told but kept a mindful eye out for any scraps falling to the floor.

  Talk turned again to the big day, the conversation growing louder with each glass of wine. By the time they’d cleared their plates, Eva was starting to get fidgety, a sure sign she was tired.

  “Still got room for pud?” Hanna asked her.

  Eva nodded slowly. “I think so.”

  Rhys gave Hanna a hand to clear the plates, while Sergio chatted to Eva about what she’d been doing in the school holidays. Eva seemed to perk up when the attention was focused on her.

  Pud was Welsh rhubarb cake, served with dollops of cream.

  “This is wonderful!” said Sergio, patting his stomach appreciatively when he’d wolfed his second helping. “Rhubarb is not something we eat very often at home.”

  Hanna couldn’t help noticing that despite a few extra kilos, Sergio seemed to look much the same as when she’d first met him. He must have a great metabolism, she thought, given the amount of food he could put away. But his job probably kept him pretty active, much like Rhys.

  “Coffee, or would you prefer something else?” she asked.

  “I have the perfect solution,” he said, vanishing upstairs and reappearing from his room holding several bags. From one, which bore the logo of the airport shop, he pulled out a bottle. “An amaro, I think. What do you say?”

  Hanna hugged him. “You’re a treasure, you remembered! I’ve always loved Averna and it’s so difficult to find here. Make yourself comfortable in the lounge while I get some glasses.”

  A clatter of chairs sounded against the stone floor as they left the dining table and headed for the lounge.

  “I brought you each a little regalo,” Sergio said, smiling, handing each of them a bag.

  Eva’s eyes lit up, her tiredness disappearing in a flash. Diving into her bag, she pulled out an exquisitely-wrapped present. She tore off the wrapping paper to reveal a box and whooped with joy when she opened it and saw what was inside.

  “Oooh, alcapas! Awesome! Grazie tante, zio Sergio!” she said, climbing onto the sofa and giving him a massive hug. “Thanks so much, Uncle Sergio!”

  “Prego, signorina!” said Sergio, laughing, almost smothered by the little girl’s embrace.

  Hanna’s heart gave a jolt; it was strange hearing Eva speak Italian after so long. Clearly, she hadn’t forgotten it.

  Eva got down and waved her present in the air. “Look, look what Uncle Sergio got me! An alcapa watch! I just love it! It’s the best thing ever! I’ll be able to wear it to the wedding!”

  Hanna shot Sergio a warning glance not to say anything. She’d have to pick the right time to talk to Eva, once it was certain they’d be going without her. She bent down and took a closer look at the pretty blue and pink watch, the strap adorned with llamas in various poses. “Here, let me help you with it,” she said, fastening it around her daughter’s wrist. “There, doesn’t that look good?”

  Eva was so excited by the present that it took some time before she reluctantly agreed to go to bed. Even then, she refused to take off the treasured gift.

  “Well, Sergio, that certainly went down well,” said Hanna, once Eva was safely tucked up. “How did you know she liked alpacas or llamas?”

  “It was Ceri’s idea,” Sergio replied. “You told her about how besotted Eva had become after seeing Nerys’. She saw the watch in a shop and thought it would make an ideal present.” He nodded towards the other bags. “You’d better take a look at your own presents.”

  Hanna delved into hers and pulled out a small box wrapped in gold paper with an elaborate black and gold bow almost bigger than the box itself. She opened it carefully and squealed with delight when she saw the contents: a filigree silver bracelet with a single sea urchin charm.

  “That’s amazing, really beautiful!” she said, slipping it on and holding her arm out to admire it

  “Another of Ceri’s brainwaves!” Sergio smiled wryly.

  Rhys tore into his oddly-shaped present to find a joint of Nebrodi cured ham, one of his favourite Sicilian delicacies. “Wonderful, we’ll really enjoy this! Thanks again, Sergio!”

  “You’re very welcome,” said Sergio. “And now before it gets too late, we need to get down to the serious stuff and the real reason for me being here. Tell me all you know so I don’t waste any time and can get on to it first thing tomorrow.”

  The atmosphere in the cottage changed in an instant. It was as if the temperature had fallen several degrees.

  “Y
es, you’re right,” said Rhys, a little reluctantly, having been mellowed by the food and wine. He levered himself up from the sofa. “I’ll get the footage so we can make a start.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Hanna and Rhys saw little of Sergio over the next few days. He would get up early, even before Rhys, and return late, sometimes in the early hours of the morning. One night he didn’t come back at all. He’d warned Hanna this might happen and not to worry. When they did see him, he was usually tired out, hungry, and monosyllabic. Hanna wondered if he usually worked like this and how Ceri coped, especially in light of the risks he might be facing. She must be used to it by now, Hanna thought, grateful that her own life was much more settled than before.

  He had promised a full update before he left, whenever that would be. Hanna and Rhys were both bursting with curiosity to know what was going on, but decided to leave him to it; he’d tell them soon enough when he was ready. The hardest part was dealing with Eva’s constant questions. She couldn’t understand why Uncle Sergio was staying but not spending any time with them.

  “He’d love to, sweet pea, but he’s working,” Hanna explained patiently. “He’s not on holiday like you.”

  “But what does he do?” the little girl persisted.

  “He’s a journalist and writes articles for a newspaper in Sicily,” explained Hanna.

  “What’s he doing here in Wales, then?”

  “He’s working on a story. I don’t know the details,” Hanna said, keen to avoid any further explanation.

  Eva looked puzzled. “But…” she began, only to be interrupted by Hanna’s mobile ringing.

  It was Ceri, full of news about the wedding, especially the wonderful place out in the countryside they’d booked for the reception where she’d been that day to finalise the arrangements.

  Hanna waited for a lull in her excited chatter, then asked, “And how are things after all the arrests for that agricultural fraud?”

  “Pretty quiet at the moment,” Ceri responded. “It’ll be some time before the case comes to court. Still no news about Luciano. How’s Sergio getting on? Has he said how long he’ll be staying?”

  “Not sure. We’ve not seen much of him, actually,” Hanna replied, surprised that Ceri seemed to have no idea when he’d be returning home.

  “These things take their own course,” said Ceri philosophically. She was evidently used to him disappearing for days at a time, with very little contact.

  “But the wedding is only a couple of weeks away…” said Hanna.

  “I know, I know,” said Ceri, “but all the arrangements are in place and it’s better that he’s not here. He’d only try to interfere, otherwise. This way, he can focus fully on getting all the evidence he needs for the story. It’ll be a massive scoop and will make his name as an investigative journalist.”

  Hanna could hear the pride in her voice as she spoke of him. Proud, but pragmatic too. They’d obviously developed a close understanding over the years.

  “Don’t worry, Sergio’ll let us both know soon enough what he’s up to,” was the last thing Ceri said before hanging up.

  Sure enough, on the Saturday morning Hanna found a note on the dining room table:

  “Sorry I’ve been so busy, and you’ve not seen much of me. I’m on to something – just need the weekend to see things through. Can we talk Monday? Planning to fly back Tuesday morning. Hope that’s OK with you? Sergio xx”

  She wondered what he’d discovered. Not long to wait to find out, she thought.

  ***

  Sergio was gone all weekend. He’d left the cottage early that morning and hadn’t returned by the time they went to bed on Sunday night. He must have got back at some point during the night, and was still in bed when Hanna got up on Monday morning. Rhys was home too, having worked over the weekend. Summer was a busy time for wardens, with the increased number of visitors to the National Park.

  Hanna was clearing up the breakfast dishes when Sergio wandered into the kitchen, heavy-eyed, his dark hair tousled, looking as if he’d just woken up.

  “Sorry,” he said with his customary shrug, “I had a bit of a late night, or rather an early morning.”

  Hanna smiled. “I’ll make you some coffee. Anything to eat? An almond croissant?”

  “That would be great, thanks.”

  “I’ll bring it out into the garden,” said Hanna. She glanced at him expectantly, dying to question him further, but he still looked half-asleep. It would take a few coffees to revive him, especially if he’d had little sleep. She’d have to curb her curiosity a little while longer.

  Sergio wandered out into the garden, his laptop under his arm. Another warm and sunny morning. Through the kitchen window, Hanna could see him strike up a conversation with Rhys but couldn’t make out the words. Further down the garden, she could see a giggling Eva wrapped up in a tug-of-war with Bryn, one that the dog seemed to be winning.

  After popping a couple of croissants in the microwave, she put several heaped spoonfuls of ground coffee in the cafetière, added hot water, then frothed up a jug of milk, enough for three cappuccinos. She carried everything out on a tray to where Sergio and Rhys were deep in conversation, their voices muted, heads lowered and close together, as if sharing a secret. They sprang apart as she approached.

  She set the tray on the table, sat down, and handed round the coffees. Sergio’s face lit up. He looked more awake now, a far cry from a few minutes ago. He smiled, took a sip of his coffee and bit into a croissant.

  “So, Sergio, are you going to tell us what you’ve been able to find out?” Hanna asked, unable to restrain her curiosity any longer.

  “Well,” he said, swallowing a mouthful of pastry. “I can’t say for certain that there’s a definite pattern after only a few days, but it fits with what I’ve seen in other places, and there’s no doubt that it all stems from Sicily.”

  He paused for another sip of coffee and a bite of croissant. Hanna swivelled round to check that Eva was out of earshot.

  “Go on,” Hanna urged. Rhys shot her a glance, warning her to be patient.

  “A bit of background first,” said Sergio. “You probably know that people-trafficking from Africa across the Mediterranean continues to be a problem. You hear less about it in the news, but that doesn’t mean it’s gone away.

  “The infamous trafficking route through Libya and then on by boat can cost each migrant somewhere in the region of 35,000 euros. Migrants pay a fee upfront and agree to pay off the rest by working in their country of destination. Thousands of African women are lured to Europe by the promise of jobs as domestic assistants, nannies, even hairdressers. But all that’s waiting for them at the other end is prostitution and/or drug trafficking.”

  “But why don’t they escape and go to the police?” said Hanna, sensing the answer even as she asked the question.

  “They’re too scared. Many of them are forced to undergo a juju ritual before they leave and take an oath to repay their debt. If they fail, they believe they will die.”

  Hanna went pale. “Oh my God! Can’t the authorities do anything to stop it?”

  “They do their best, but it’s hard to crack these trafficking rings. Often, it’s African gangs working with the local Mafia. From time to time, arrests are made but they’re usually the pesci piccoli – the little fish, the small fry – and the trade continues unabated.”

  Rhys continued to listen intently while a fidgety Hanna sat on the edge of her chair, clearly agitated. “Go on!” she urged again.

  “Eh, pazienza, Hanna! I’m getting there. There’s a growing demand now for underage girls, not only in Sicily and on the mainland, but also in the rest of Europe. That’s what I’ve been investigating, the links between Sicily and Europe. I’ve already got evidence from Germany and France.”

  “And now you think Wales is involved too?” asked Rhys.

  Sergio nodded.

  “Esatto. Increasingly, the trafficking rings have been looking for new marke
ts, quieter routes, smaller cities. That’s what I think we have here.”

  Hanna was dying to ask whether he thought Luciano might be involved. Rhys must have sensed her growing impatience and shot her another warning glance. Sergio was talking quickly now, warming to his subject, his voice animated. Hanna looked at him expectantly, hoping to spur him on.

  “Just let me finish my breakfast and I’ll tell you what I’ve discovered,” he said, reaching for a second croissant.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sergio wiped the last crumbs from his mouth, drained his coffee cup, and launched into his account of the last few days.

  “Allora, it was Tuesday when I got here. You saw the white transit van coming over from Dublin the day before, with a group of young black girls and the older woman on board. You didn’t see them leave Holyhead, but they must have headed for Hanna’s old cottage at some point. I can only assume these girls had only just arrived in the country. By the time I turned up there on Wednesday morning, there was no sign of the van or the men, but I could see the woman and the girls quite clearly through the windows. Every now and again the girls would venture outside, but this seemed to annoy the older women who would chase them in again.

  “The girls seemed very young, no more than fourteen, fifteen at most. Difficult to say precisely how many of them there were – my guess would be between eight and ten.

  “The van returned early evening, with the two men. I managed to get some shots of them,” he said, turning to his laptop and angling it so that Hanna and Rhys could see. “You might recognise them.”

  Hanna and Rhys peered at the photos on the screen.

  “That’s definitely Angelo, Luciano’s cousin,” said Hanna, with a shiver, pointing to a man with an olive complexion and dark hair, cropped short and peppered with grey. “And the other one is Ottavio’s father.”

  Rhys nodded. “I’ve definitely seen them on previous footage from the surveillance camera. And they were both there the night I followed them into Holyhead.”