‘With one of these girls – asking her questions, I hope. The man at the desk, Felipe, he offered him something special. I think he means underage. They’re prisoners up there. I only got this one out because I watched him enter the door code.’
Caelan’s throat tightened. ‘Do you know where they’re from?’
‘Does it matter? They shouldn’t be here, not like this.’ Piotr glanced over his shoulder. ‘I don’t trust the police, they won’t listen to me, but can you do something? Speak to someone?’
Caelan nodded. ‘I’ll go now.’
He stepped back. ‘Good. I should take her inside. If they see we’re gone…’
‘Okay.’ On impulse, Caelan reached out and grabbed the girl’s hand. She flinched, but allowed Caelan to take it. Gently Caelan eased it away from the girl’s body, turning it to the side to examine the inside of her forearm, the crook of her elbow. ‘Listen, I’m going to help you. Do you understand?’
The girl blinked. ‘Ardiola.’ She removed her hand from Caelan’s and tapped her own chest. ‘Ardiola,’ she repeated.
‘That’s your name?’
Piotr shifted his feet, glanced over his shoulder. ‘We need to go inside. Remember – tomorrow morning.’
Caelan didn’t want to leave the girl in this place, but she knew she had to. If she took her now, their captors would spirit the others away. ‘I’ll help you. Okay? Trust me.’
The girl allowed Piotr to lead her back inside, giving no sign that she had heard Caelan, much less understood. Caelan walked away, raging at the situation and the abuse the girl had endured that had left her so passive, so compliant.
Or maybe it was the drugs.
She made her way back to the car, hoping Bailey wouldn’t be long. Hanging around on the street at night wearing these clothes wasn’t her idea of a good time. She pulled her phone out of the tiny handbag she’d brought along and stepped into a doorway. Ian Penrith answered on the first ring.
‘Caelan?’
‘The hotel you sent me to? We need to raid it, immediately. It’s got to be shut down tonight. I’ve been told more girls will arrive tomorrow. We could grab whoever brings them.’
‘It’s not our operation, as you know.’
‘Then talk to someone. Please, Ian. The girl I saw looked about fifteen. She was probably even younger.’
He clicked his tongue. ‘All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Will you call me back? I want to know what—’
Caelan broke off as she saw Bailey staggering towards her. He held out the car keys, and she saw that his left eye was swollen and bruised.
‘Would you mind driving?’ He leaned against the side of the car, holding his stomach. ‘I’m not sure I can.’
‘What the hell happened to you?’ She held the phone back up to her ear. ‘I’ll talk to you soon, Ian.’ She put the handset away and grabbed the keys from Bailey’s hand. He turned away, and Caelan knew he was embarrassed.
‘Can we just get out of here?’ he said. ‘Please?’
Caelan unlocked the doors, started the engine. ‘Fine.’
Bailey winced as he slid into the passenger seat. ‘Shit, that hurts.’
‘Are you going to tell me who did this to you? Where are we going?’
‘Can you take me to the station at Stoke Newington, please? I’ll direct you. I need to speak to my boss.’
‘And get those girls out of there?’
‘Left here. Yeah, we’re soon going to be battering the door down.’ Bailey spoke with bravado, but Caelan wasn’t convinced. What he had witnessed in the hotel had affected him.
‘Who hit you?’
He attempted a laugh. ‘The bouncer, Piotr. I was talking to him, and the receptionist bloke came storming in. Piotr had to pretend he was throwing me out and,’ he pointed to his eye, ‘this is the result.’
‘And he was only pretending?’
‘Had to make it look convincing. You need to take the next right.’
‘Well he definitely succeeded. What did you find out?’
‘The girl couldn’t tell me much – her English was limited, and I can get by in German but nothing else. The girls were locked away, though, that’s all I needed to see. We’ll be going in as soon as we’ve got permission.’
Caelan told him how Piotr had brought one of the girls out to her, and what he had said about the new girls arriving. ‘How did he know who I was?’
She glanced at Bailey, who had turned his head away. ‘DC Bailey?’
‘I told him. I said a colleague of mine was in the building.’
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. ‘And you thought that was acceptable?’
‘I trusted him… I mean, he came to us. He’s an informer.’
‘And?’
‘Well, it’s in his interests to work with us.’
‘And if one of his bosses had found out he’d blabbed and had a gang of five men with baseball bats waiting for me?’
Bailey’s hands clenched in his lap. ‘I… I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘No, you hadn’t. Which means we’re lucky to be going home at all.’
‘All right, I fucked up. Didn’t matter, though, did it? We got what we came for. Evidence.’
Caelan fought to keep the fury out of her voice. ‘And if you and your boss don’t move quickly, you might lose it again.’
‘We will. Those girls will be free by breakfast time.’
‘Physically, maybe.’
He held up his hands, shaking his head. ‘We’ll get them the help they need. I have a thirteen-year-old niece. Believe me, I’m as angry as you are.’
‘Just… get them out of there, and catch the fuckers responsible.’
‘We will. You can park here.’
They drew up outside Stoke Newington police station. ‘Come inside,’ Bailey said. ‘I’ll get someone to drive you home.’
Caelan dropped the keys into his palm. ‘Thanks. I don’t fancy getting on the Tube in this outfit.’
10
Back in her own hotel room, Caelan stepped into the shower, lathering and rinsing her body and hair three times before she felt remotely clean. She was furious with Bailey, angry with Ian Penrith. He hadn’t called back. She knew she had to trust them, allow Bailey and his colleagues to complete the job they had started. It didn’t make her feel any better, not when she remembered the girl she had seen, and the others who had been inside the hotel.
She knew there must be hundreds, probably thousands of women, and men too, in the same situation up and down the country. Lured to the UK by promises of a better life, employment opportunities. Only when their passports were taken away did the ugly truth begin to emerge. Forced into prostitution, introduced to drugs to keep them dependent and compliant. Beaten, raped, abused in ways Caelan, even with her years of experience, probably couldn’t begin to imagine. A nightmare, a life sentence that some didn’t survive.
She pulled on clean jeans and a T-shirt, forced herself to stop thinking about it. She was doing what she could. What had Liv Hobbs said? You swat one, turn around, and three more have flown in to spread shit around. It was true, though not easy to accept. Sometimes the tide of filth felt overwhelming.
She paced around the room, glanced at the TV, knew there would be nothing she wanted to watch. Picked up her phone, checked the time. After midnight. Late, but then he could ignore the call.
‘Caelan. Can’t you sleep either?’
She smiled. ‘I haven’t tried yet.’
A pause. ‘We could meet up. There’s a twenty-four-hour café near here…’
Caelan was already pulling her coat on. ‘Text me the address.’
* * *
Ewan sat in a corner booth, well away from the counter. As Caelan approached, he made to stand up, but she waved him down and went over to buy their coffee.
Sliding the tray onto the table between them, she pulled out a chair. ‘I was worried I’d wake you.’
‘No chance. It’s d
ifficult to lie comfortably.’
‘You look pretty good for someone who almost died yesterday,’ she said as she handed him his cup. He grinned.
‘Could say the same for you.’
Caelan raised her mug in a mock toast, drank some coffee. ‘Why have you brought a pillow with you? Or shouldn’t I ask?’
‘In case I need to cough. Sounds weird, but if you hold the pillow to your chest, it makes it less painful.’
‘What if you sneeze?’
Ewan grimaced. ‘Haven’t needed to yet. I’d probably burst into tears.’
She watched him wince as he lifted the cup to his lips, saw the white gauze dressing on his temple where he’d fallen and hit his head following the shooting.
‘How long do you have off work?’ she asked.
He set his cup on the table. ‘As long as I need.’
‘Aren’t you bored yet?’
Ewan laughed. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Not exactly.’ She told him about her meeting with Elizabeth Beckett, then Tim Achebe and the others, not disclosing details, but giving him an idea of what had happened. She wanted to tell him about Nicky, but found the words wouldn’t come. Ewan had quickly become a friend when she had asked him to partner her in her last assignment. He had joined the Metropolitan Police after his career in the army ended, and currently worked in protection. Caelan had met him when he was sent to collect her from the airport and escort her to a meeting. He had already proven himself to be capable and trustworthy – something she couldn’t say for some of her other colleagues. Ewan listened, his head on one side.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked when Caelan fell silent.
‘I don’t know. Ben Rainey’s family say he didn’t know Anthony Bryce. They’re the same age, and Bryce grew up about seven miles from where Rainey lived. There has to be a link between them, but we haven’t found it yet.’
Ewan picked up his coffee, took another sip. ‘They could have met in any number of ways, even just hanging around on the streets. Their parents might never have known.’
‘Could be. Or I’m wrong, and the attacks are random.’
Meeting her eyes, Ewan frowned. ‘That would be worse?’
‘Yes, because it makes our job harder. If there’s a link, there will be lines of investigation to follow. Random attacks are rare, and it can be more difficult to find leads.’
‘There are loads of places where they could have met in a city this size. Sports teams, religious groups, school, college, Saturday jobs…’
Caelan held up her hand. ‘Wait a minute.’
‘What?’
‘Religion. Ben Rainey’s father mentioned his children going to church.’ She sat back, considering it. ‘And their names…’
‘What about them?’
‘Benjamin, Miriam, Joseph – aren’t they all Biblical?’
‘Yeah, I think so. Does that matter?’
‘I don’t know. It might suggest the Bible and their religion is important to Abigail and Charles Rainey.’
‘I think the name Abigail is in the Bible too.’ Ewan finished his coffee. ‘You see, I knew going to Sunday school would come in handy one day.’
Caelan had her phone in her hand. ‘I’ll email DCI Achebe. It’s probably irrelevant, but…’
‘Worth checking. What about the other victim, the one found today?’
‘Anthony Bryce? I don’t know anything about his background.’
Ewan glanced at his watch. ‘Caelan, listen. There’s something I need to say, about yesterday.’ Caelan tried to interrupt, but he held up a hand. ‘Please. I wanted to apologise. I was there to back you up, and I ended up flat out on the floor. Not my proudest moment.’
‘It was my fault. I underestimated Nasenby. I should have known better.’
Ewan cleared his throat, holding his ribs. ‘Well, we survived and Nasenby’s looking at spending the rest of his life in prison. I’d say job done.’
Caelan grinned at him. ‘Me too.’
‘There’s something else.’
‘That sounds ominous.’
He blushed, lowered his voice. ‘No, it’s a good thing… At least, I hope it is. I’ve applied for a transfer.’
She stared at him. ‘A transfer to…?’
‘Specialist Crime and Operations – your department. I know it won’t be full time, but working with you really opened my eyes.’
Caelan stood, leaning over to give him a gentle hug. ‘That’s brilliant news. What did they say?’
He winked. ‘Hard to say no to a man who was shot yesterday in the line of duty.’
‘Who did you speak to?’
‘Elizabeth Beckett. She said something about rebuilding the department.’
Caelan nodded. ‘They’ll have to. Wait until Penrith hears.’
‘I’m seeing him tomorrow.’
‘You’re coming back to work then?’
‘Like you said, I’m bored at home.’
They smiled at each other. ‘Lots of training to do,’ Caelan warned him.
‘I know. I’m looking forward to it.’
* * *
DCI Tim Achebe stood at the back of the briefing room in South Harrow, watching his officers file in rubbing their eyes and sipping coffee from cardboard cups.
‘They’re knackered,’ said DS Jen Somerville, who was standing beside him. Achebe looked shattered too, she realised. It was early – she could sympathise. ‘We’ve made no progress on the Ben Rainey investigation, and they know it.’
‘We all do.’ Achebe straightened his tie. ‘It just means we work harder.’
‘Agreed.’ Jen glanced at her boss. ‘What about the church?’
Achebe had forwarded her the email from Caelan Small. They had asked Mr and Mrs Rainey about their church before, but the couple had said Ben didn’t go with them now. They were disappointed, they’d said, but Benjamin was an adult, and his job meant it wouldn’t always be possible to attend the services in any case. They had thought it a dead end. Now, it was possible they had been wrong, and Jen wanted to know for sure.
‘Did you speak to the pastor again?’ Achebe asked.
‘Yeah, he doesn’t remember Anthony Bryce ever being part of the congregation. Then again, he’s only been there four years, so I asked for the details of his predecessor.’
‘What did he say?’
‘I got a mobile number. Haven’t had a chance to call yet.’
Achebe looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘Could you do it now?’
She looked up at him. ‘Well, yes. I thought—’
‘It won’t take long. Please, Jen. This case…’ He shook his head. ‘I want to find these fuckers.’
‘We all do. And we will.’ Somerville took out her phone, left the room, ducked into an empty office. She found the number, waited for it to connect. Four rings.
‘Hello?’ The voice was female. Somerville frowned.
‘Good morning. I was hoping to speak to Pastor Miles. This is DS Somerville from the Metropolitan Police.’
A pause. ‘I’m Pastor Miles.’ The woman laughed. ‘You were expecting a man, weren’t you? Typical.’
Somerville ignored the comment, though she was blushing, knowing she was guilty of making the kind of assumption she’d berated colleagues for in the past. ‘I need to speak to you, ma’am. Would later this morning be convenient?’
‘Well, yes, but can I ask what it’s about?’
‘An ongoing investigation, ma’am. Shall we say ten thirty?’
‘Fine. I’ll be at home. I assume you know the address.’
‘I’ll find it. Thank you.’
Somerville ended the call, went back to the briefing room, not looking forward to the interview. Miles would already feel she had the upper hand, having caught her out.
Achebe was at the front, encouraging the officers in front of him. Somerville had to admit, he was a good motivator. As he told them he knew how hard they were working, that they were the only people who could bring
the murderer of one of their own to justice, she saw backs straighten and shoulders lift. Achebe was the right blend of mate and boss. His team wanted to impress him, please him. As he turned away, though, the assembled officers going back to their desks, Jen saw the mask slip. Achebe stood still, hands by his sides, face blank. She went over, touched his sleeve.
‘Tim?’
He blinked. ‘Sorry, Jen. Just wondering what I’m going to say to the Chief Super. How’d it go?’
She filled him in. ‘Pastor Miles?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘What sort of church is this?’
‘Well, according to their website—’
‘Churches have websites now?’
‘Of course. It’s a Christian movement—’
He held up a hand. ‘I know the sort of place – tambourines, lots of singing… My parents are members of a place like that.’
She stared at him, unsure how to respond. He grinned at her.
‘I’m sorry, Jen, I’m not being dismissive – at least, not of you. Rather you than me, that’s all I’m saying.’
* * *
Having managed to finally grab a few hours’ sleep, Caelan was up early. She had just left the Tube station when she received the call. She stepped into a doorway to listen to what Liam Bailey had to report. As promised, he and his boss had organised a raid on the hotel in Hackney at first light.
‘We arrested the receptionist, the bouncer, Piotr, seven women, including the girls who were behind the locked door, and two punters.’ Bailey sounded exhausted, and Caelan could imagine how he would be feeling. The adrenalin of the raid leaking away, replaced by the familiar crawling reminder that however many you saved or arrested, there would be thousands more you could never reach. Or perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps Bailey never thought about the endless, bottomless struggle of the job. When your best was never quite good enough. She thought of the girl she had met, Ardiola; her bird-like limbs and the wide gaze that saw nothing. But all she said was, ‘Thanks for letting me know.’
Bailey huffed. ‘We thought it was a good result.’
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