by Karen Moore
Sergio nodded and continued. “At about half seven, they all piled into the van: the two guys, the woman and the girls, hardly recognisable now, all dressed up, their faces plastered with makeup, like dolls or mannequins. No prizes for guessing where they were heading.”
“The docks at Holyhead,” said Rhys, grimly. “Just like the other night.”
“Esatto. The van pulled up by the container terminal and the woman and most of the girls got out. It was pretty deserted at that hour. Then it drove away. That first night I stayed with the main group. I parked up and managed to get quite close to them but stayed out of sight. Once it got dark, there was a steady flow of male visitors, some arriving on foot, others by car. Some of them seemed to be lorry drivers.
“The girls were obviously being made to offer sex, but I could tell from the expressions on their faces that they weren’t happy about it. The woman was doing all the negotiating, obviously acting as the madam. From what I could tell, the transactions were carried out behind the containers. All very sleazy. This carried on until the early hours, when the van returned to pick them up and take them home.
“The second night, I followed the van into the town centre. It parked up and four of the girls got out, two with each guy. The guys seemed to be showing the girls the ropes. This time, it was pushing drugs, not themselves. Some of the business was done on the street, sometimes they’d disappear into a pub or club for a while. It all seemed to be a well-rehearsed ritual.”
Hanna’s eyes widened with astonishment. “Oh my God! Was no one bothered that they were so young? How can they get away with this? Were there no police around?”
Sergio smiled sadly at her naïvety. “Unfortunately, it’s a specialist market with growing demand. The appeal is that the girls are underage, I’m afraid. It’s happening all over Europe. As I said before, the problem is nailing the big boys and trying to stop it happening. If I can get enough evidence – and I’m sure I can – that the roots are in Sicily, we’ll be able to get the bastards behind it once and for all.”
“But why North Wales?” asked Rhys, with a puzzled expression.
“Aspetta, hang on, I’ll explain,” replied Sergio. “So, the same thing happened the following day and the day after. The girls stayed at the cottage during the day, then ventured into Holyhead at night to do business.
“But on the Saturday, the pattern was different. The van arrived at lunchtime and they all piled in, this time carrying bags. I wondered if they were leaving for good. Again, I followed them and ended up in a scruffy backstreet in Manchester. The van parked up and they all disappeared into a shabby terrace. Hours later, it became apparent why. Again, a constant stream of men passed through the house from early evening onwards. It only quietened off towards early Sunday morning. Same thing happened again on Sunday night, although things didn’t go on quite so late. Then they got into the van and came back to the cottage.”
Tears sprang to Hanna’s eyes. “Those poor girls. Can’t we do anything to help them?”
Sergio shrugged. “If we do anything rash, we might help this group of girls but there’ll be plenty of others. We need to… dobbiamo stoncarlo sul nascere once and for all.”
Rhys looked mystified.
“Nip it in the bud,” Hanna translated mechanically.
“Get those running the trafficking network,” Sergio concluded, pausing for breath.
“So, where do you think Wales fits in?” asked Rhys.
“As I said earlier, the traffickers seem to be using less well-known routes to escape detection. Coming into the UK via Ireland is a new one to me. North Wales could be a testing or training ground for new girls. Once they’re ‘trained’, they’re moved on to cities where there’s a bigger market and more money to be made. Then new girls arrive…”
Hanna shuddered at the thought, wondering how many young girls were caught up in this plight across Europe.
“And how can you be sure that it all stems back to Sicily?” she asked.
“Well, we know that Luciano’s cousin, Angelo, is involved. But there’s one important thing I’ve not told you.” Sergio hesitated for a moment. “A third man turned up on Saturday morning and accompanied the group to Manchester but didn’t return with them. Proof without doubt of the Sicilian connection.”
Hanna felt her stomach lurch, anticipating Sergio’s answer.
“Luciano.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hanna felt sick. Her head began to spin. She tried to speak but nothing came out. An increasing feeling of nausea and light-headedness washed over her, and she grabbed the arms of the chair to steady herself
Rhys hurried over and put a tentative arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay, cariad?”
She nodded, but the slight movement made her feel worse. She jumped up and dashed inside to the bathroom where she retched into the basin. A few minutes later, Rhys appeared in the doorway.
“Better?”
Hanna nodded again, almost imperceptibly. She straightened up and let him help her into the lounge where she sank heavily onto the sofa. Sergio brought a glass of water in from the kitchen. She sipped at it slowly at first, then gulped down the rest. The two men watched her in concern, obviously at a loss to know what to say.
Gradually, the dizziness passed, and she began to feel a little better. Thoughts whirled through her mind. She shook her head. “I just knew he’d have something to do with it,” she said eventually. “But what was he doing here? D’you think he was trying to track us down?”
Rhys and Sergio looked thoughtful, as if considering the question and how best to respond. Rhys was first to break the silence.
“Well, there’s no evidence that Luciano ever knew you’d come here when you left Sicily. When Eva was kidnapped, he wasn’t responsible, it was the rival clan. But the fact that Ottavio’s father is involved in this trafficking could potentially lead Luciano back to you.”
“Problem is we don’t know Luciano’s state of mind, whether he’s harbouring a grudge thinking you turned him into the authorities, or whether he’s moved on,” said Sergio.
Rhys frowned and turned to face Hanna. “But why would he come after you now? You’re no longer a threat to him and his operations.”
Hanna sighed. “We’ve talked about this before. As Sergio said, he might be trying to get his own back on me if he thinks I gave him in to the police.”
“Even after all this time?” Rhys looked sceptical.
“Unfortunately, time doesn’t matter when it comes to payback for these people,” said Sergio. “But I get the feeling that this is purely business, that for some reason he’s come over here not to get back at you, but to check up on this part of the set-up.”
Hanna stared at Sergio, wondering whether he was serious or merely trying to reassure her. He returned her gaze, looking her straight in the eyes. He seemed sincere enough, and she’d known him long enough to know that he wouldn’t try to fob her off with empty words.
“But how can we be sure?” she asked.
Sergio shook his head and shrugged. “We can’t be. But the fact that he hasn’t returned suggests that he was only here temporarily and has probably gone back to Sicily.”
Hanna wondered whether Luciano’s fleeting presence was no more than that, a business transaction, a mere coincidence that all this was happening so close to home. Was this too much to hope for?
“And there’s no evidence that he’s tried to track you down or get in touch, is there?” Sergio continued.
Hanna thought back to the boot print outside the kitchen window. Had that simply been a lost hiker, or could it have been Luciano trying to see Eva with him being so nearby?
Rhys looked at Hanna questioningly.
“No, not really,” she said, hesitantly.
“Are you sure?” Sergio scoured her face for a reaction.
“A few days ago, Hanna felt she was being watched through the kitchen window,” explained Rhys, as if reading her mind. “We found a footprin
t, but I’m pretty sure it was someone who’d strayed off the right of way and nothing more. Nothing else has happened since then, has it?”
She shook her head. “No, nothing.”
“But someone might have recognised you, Rhys, maybe from the night you were attacked when you followed the group to Holyhead, and made the connection with Hanna,” Sergio said.
Rhys looked alarmed as if he’d not realised his actions could have endangered his new family. Several minutes passed, the atmosphere between them tense, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.
“So, what happens now? What do we do about the trafficking?” asked Rhys finally.
“Well, the Sicilian police have already been investigating this for some time,” Sergio replied. “My dad’s heavily involved. I know from him that the police are determined to close down the trafficking once and for all, but it’s a sensitive operation and they won’t make a move until they have all the evidence they need. With this new proof of the link to other European countries, they may consider they have enough to act on. I’ll speak to Dad about it when I get back.”
He paused. “The fact that underage girls are involved makes the whole business even more abhorrent. Judges are likely to impose harsh sentences. This story will be as big as that massive EU agricultural fraud, if not bigger.”
Hanna frowned. “How long is all that likely to take?”
Sergio shrugged and held up his hands. “If the arrests are confined to Sicily, it could be relatively straightforward as it’ll only involve our own police. But if it involves other countries, who knows? It could take even longer. Depends on the level of co-operation we get.”
Another silence ensued as they contemplated this. The lull was shattered by Eva bounding in, closely followed by an excited Bryn, barking loudly, both demanding food. The shrill ringtone of Sergio’s mobile added to the cacophony, and he disappeared into the garden to answer it. Glad of the distraction, Hanna got up and followed Eva and Bryn into the kitchen.
“What d’you fancy?” she asked the little girl who was rummaging in the cupboard for Bryn’s dog chews.
“Cheese on toast, cheese on toast! My favourite! I love cheese on toast!” Eva jumped up and down, almost singing the words, a dog chew in each hand. Bryn snatched them greedily from her grasp.
Hanna smiled and reached for the multigrain loaf in the bread bin. She cut a chunky slice of bread, grated some cheddar cheese on top, and popped it under the grill. Snatches of Sergio’s conversation floated in from outside, but it was difficult to hear much with Bryn barking and Eva who’d now launched into her own version of the pop song Señorita.
A few minutes later Sergio came rushing in from the garden, his face aglow, almost shaking with excitement.
“Hanna, Sergio, you’ll never guess! A real breakthrough! Ceri thinks we’ve got a witness. Someone who’s been a victim of trafficking and is prepared to go on record as a witness, as long as we can protect her. We’ve really got ourselves a story now!”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The following morning Hanna waited until Rhys had gone to work and Sergio had left for the airport before calling Ceri.
“Sorry I’ve not had chance to speak the last couple of days. It’s been pretty hectic here, what with going to Dublin and then Sergio coming over.”
“So I saw from your messages. Don’t worry, Sergio’s been keeping me updated. Sort of. You know how he is. How are things? Did he get away OK?” Ceri sounded a little tense.
“Yes, everything’s fine.” Hanna glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “He should be at the airport by now.”
“I heard about Luciano turning up in Wales. That must have been a hell of a shock. Did he try to contact you while he was there?”
A knot formed in the pit of Hanna’s stomach at the mention of her husband. “No, Sergio saw him just the once at my old cottage with the girls. He’s not been near here as far as I know.” The footprint outside the window sprang to mind again.
“He may not even know you’re living there. Or he may have moved on, mentally I mean. Getting back at you in some way might not be on his mind.”
Hanna gnawed at her lip. “But Eva’s still his daughter. You’d think he’d want to see her and not give her up completely, whatever’s gone on in the past. I’m worried. I don’t want him snatching her back, or for anything else to happen to her. She’s already been through enough.”
The knot tightened and spasms shot through her stomach. With a groan, she sank into the nearest chair.
“You OK?” asked Ceri, a touch of alarm in her voice.
“Yes, fine.” Hanna forced out the words. “Difficult to know what to think without knowing his state of mind.”
“Sergio’s pretty sure it was only a fleeting visit and that he’s gone back to Sicily now,” said Ceri, obviously trying to reassure her.
“Let’s hope so. He certainly hasn’t been seen since, thank God. Anyway, tell me about this witness you’ve found. Sergio mentioned it but he didn’t go into any detail.”
“Well, it’s not definite yet.” Ceri’s voice was cautious. “She could always change her mind. Bit of a long story, really. A contact at the refugee centre put me in touch with her. Her name is Zhuri. She’s originally from Nigeria and was sold by her parents to traffickers when she was thirteen. Zhuri, along with two friends from the same village, was forced to take an oath in a juju ritual where they all promised to repay the cost of their passage to Europe on fear of death.”
“My God, that’s terrible…” Hanna remembered Sergio had mentioned juju rituals.
“Unfortunately, it’s all too common,” Ceri continued. “Anyway, the traffickers forced them to become sex workers: Zhuri here in Palermo, while one friend was sent to France, the other to Germany. Zhuri was picked up by the police a couple of months ago soliciting in one of the city’s parks, and is now being looked after and rehabilitated in a specialist refugee centre. She’s determined to help other girls in the same position. She’s still only fifteen.”
“That’s some story,” said Hanna, almost reeling in disbelief.
“And there’s a dozen other girls in the centre with similar tales.” Ceri sounded bitter. “And that’s only one centre, and the ones who managed to get away. God knows how many girls are caught up in this right across Europe…”
Hanna couldn’t imagine. It was unbearable to even think about. “Can Zhuri be a witness, at her age?” she asked.
“Apparently so. It can all be done anonymously to protect her identity, which will be changed anyway. She insists on giving evidence. Her mind’s set on helping to bring an end to the whole sordid business. She wants to study and become a lawyer here in Italy.”
“She sounds very strong-minded for such a young girl.”
“Zhuri’s quite a character. Bright and opinionated. She should go far. Let’s hope she doesn’t change her mind about testifying. She’s agreed to give Sergio an interview for the paper, too. It’ll be quite a breakthrough, both for the police and for Sergio.”
“Yes, it’s really good news…”
“Hanna, I’ll have to go,” Ceri interrupted, “I’ve got the final fitting for the wedding dress this afternoon and I can’t miss it.”
“’Course not. Call me in a couple of days, or sooner if there’s any news.”
“I will, don’t worry. You are still coming?”
“You know I am.”
“I’m counting on it. Ciao.”
Hanna sighed. The wedding was only ten days away now. With all her heart, she wanted to be there; the only problem was its location. Even before Luciano’s release from prison, she wasn’t convinced she wanted to return to Sicily. And now, with Luciano free, she was more nervous than ever. But if he could turn up so close to home, maybe nowhere was safe. Or was it mere coincidence? After all, he’d made no move to get in touch. The thoughts continued to churn around her head, returning to the same point of indecision. Eventually she told herself she was more o
r less committed to going now. Ceri would be devastated if she backed out at this late stage. Besides which, Rhys had promised to give his sister away.
Next problem, what to wear? She went upstairs and started to rifle through her wardrobe for something suitable. It was unlikely; she’d not had much call for occasion wear over the last two years since settling down in Wales. And she needed something lightweight as it would be hot. Sure enough, the search proved useless. Rhys would need a new outfit too.
Hanna frowned, reluctantly admitting that a weekend shopping trip was called for. Her interest in clothes had waned. These days, clothes shopping was more of a necessity than a pleasure. And with Eva in tow, it would likely become even more of a chore. The youngster would get really bored unless they made it into a fun day. Hanna would have to come up with a plan.
***
The decision was made. First stop, Conwy. A couple of boutiques there might have something of interest, and there were a few menswear shops for Rhys. Then, if they had no luck there, they’d have to go on to Llandudno where there would be more choice.
The plan was to leave early and get there before the weekend tourists arrived in their hordes, to avoid jostling through the crowded streets of the picturesque little coastal town. Visitors mainly came to see the magnificent thirteenth-century castle but spilled out into the streets afterwards, invading the shops and cafes, making the most of their day out.
When Saturday came, it was a beautiful morning, with clear blue skies and a light breeze, and the promise of warm temperatures later. Much too nice to be shopping, thought Hanna, but it had to be done. Eva’s reaction to the suggested shopping trip had been lukewarm, only tempered by the promise of a surprise if she was good. Over breakfast she was still grizzly, although she tucked with gusto into the pancakes Hanna had made as a special treat. Even Rhys seemed unusually subdued; he hated shopping.
“So, what’s this surprise?” Eva asked for the umpteenth time, as she spooned a dollop of yoghurt onto another blueberry-loaded pancake. Fruit stains were smeared like warpaint across her face, giving her a slightly scary look.