DANA WAS IN her bathroom. The crying was coming from the next room. The tone and strength of the sobs suggested a woman. She bent and saw the pipework beneath the washbasin.
Tap, tap, tap.
No response. No break in the crying. Dana got up again, ran into the bedroom and found the spoon from dinner the night before. They hadn’t given her a knife. Back in the bathroom, she tapped three times on the pipe. And again. The crying stopped. Three more taps. Silence from the next room.
‘Hello?’ tried Dana, just as footsteps sounded in the corridor outside.
She heard someone enter the next room, a low exchange of conversation, the rattle of crockery, then the door being closed and locked. Dana sat on her bed and waited. Her own door opened and the woman from last night entered, carrying a breakfast tray. She had Dana’s clothes over one arm and her bag over the other.
‘Thank you,’ Dana risked.
‘Did you sleep well?’
Dana nodded. In the brighter light, the woman had an eastern European look about her. Her eyebrows were dark, her skin sallow, her eyes dark and rather deep set. There might also be a trace of accent about the deep voice.
‘You should get dressed,’ said the woman. ‘I’ll be back in an hour.’
‘A car’s just arrived outside the house,’ Lacey told her two colleagues. ‘Looks like other people are arriving.’
The Marine Unit had been on the river since before dawn: Sergeant Buckle, Finn Turner and Lacey in a small dinghy hovering near the entrance to Sayes Creek. Buckle was at the helm, Turner sat at the bow. Lacey was monitoring radio activity.
She hadn’t gone back to bed after seeing the swimmer again. Before she’d had a chance to call the officers on duty, the head had disappeared.
While she’d been staring out at the water, Ray had joined her, and between them they’d decided to say nothing for now. Monitoring the situation at Sayes Court and keeping DI Tulloch safe had to take priority for the next few hours. She’d report it once Dana was safe.
‘They’re opening the big warehouse doors,’ she said. ‘The car’s driving into the building.’
In the centre of the river, a passenger ferry went past at speed, one of the first daytrips heading towards Greenwich. The wash came towards them and Buckle turned the dinghy to face it.
‘Two people got out of the car,’ said Lacey, after a few seconds. ‘That makes seven people in the building, including DI Tulloch.’
The woman came back for Dana exactly an hour later. After dressing and eating, Dana had watched the morning news on television. When she heard footsteps, her hand went up to the locket as though clutching at a talisman, but when the door opened, she was standing ready, her breakfast tray in her hands.
‘Go ahead.’ The woman took the tray from Dana. ‘Down the stairs. Next floor down.’
Dana did what she was told.
‘Next door on your right,’ said the woman, as Dana arrived at a door that wasn’t properly closed. ‘Go straight in.’
‘OK, so the house population has increased by two,’ Lacey told her colleagues. ‘There are seven people in there now. One on the top floor, one on the ground. DI Tulloch and her guide are on the first floor, as is someone who might still be asleep because he or she hasn’t moved since last night. There are also two in the room that DI Tulloch seems to be heading for.’
She paused, there were a few moments of static, then more information.
‘OK, DI Tulloch’s in the room on the first floor with two others, her guide’s left her there and is heading back down the stairs.’
Turner’s eyes dropped; Buckle stared straight ahead. They were picturing the layout of the house, as she was. Seven people: one on the top floor, two on the ground and four on the first, three of whom were now in the same room. Remember that. If they had to go in suddenly, they didn’t want any surprises.
‘This could be it,’ said Anderson over the radio. ‘Stand by, everyone.’
‘Hello, Maya,’ said the thin white woman standing behind the desk. ‘Welcome to the United Kingdom. We’re so happy to see you here.’
‘I’m Doctor Kanash,’ said the young Asian man by the window. ‘This is Nurse Stafford.’
The doctor will see you tomorrow. Kanash and Stafford. Real names? Remember everything you can. Kanash is about thirty-five, has a tiny scar just above his upper lip on the left side, and his very dark skin and eyes were making her think Sri Lankan rather than Indian or Pakistani. Stafford is older, maybe early forties, thin hair cut into a bob, mousy brown but with strands of grey. She’s wearing a wedding ring.
‘Thank you,’ said Dana, knowing something was expected of her. ‘Thank you very much.’
It was OK to look round, wasn’t it? Any woman would look round the room nervously. A couch pushed up alongside one wall, with a long runway of tissue paper along its length. A height measure and weighing scales. A blood-pressure kit on the desk. A box of surgical gloves. Some sort of electronic scanning equipment.
‘You had a long trip, I know,’ Kanash was saying. ‘A very difficult trip, but it’s over now.’
‘Have some tea.’ Stafford had moved from behind the desk and was now beside an urn of hot water. ‘We have jasmine, or peppermint?’
They were being nice to her. Should that make her feel better, or worse?
‘Please, I am very – I don’t know the words. What will happen now?’
‘We completely understand,’ said Kanash, as Stafford gave Dana a smile. ‘Everything is very new. But there’s nothing to worry about. We have a very nice job waiting for you. A very nice couple who want someone to look after their house, especially when they are travelling. It’s a beautiful house. Not so much to do. You’ll be very happy.’
‘Thank you. Do I go today?’
The two exchanged a glance. ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Stafford. ‘There is much to sort out first. Lots of paperwork. Work permits and visas and immigration papers. The British need so much paperwork. But while it is being sorted out, you will stay here with us and we will take very good care of you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Dana.
‘Hold still a moment.’ Stafford had picked up a camera from the desk. As Dana stared at her, she pressed the button. ‘Just for your file,’ she said. ‘So we don’t get you mixed up with one of the other ladies.’
‘How are you feeling after your trip?’ asked Kanash. ‘Any health problems we should know about?’
Dana shook her head, knowing she looked scared and that it was probably exactly how every other girl in this room had looked.
‘Right,’ said Kanash, and Dana had a sense he’d got to the end of his stock repertoire of pleasantness. ‘Let’s get you on the scales, shall we?’
‘She’s on the move again,’ Lacey told the crew. ‘She’s being escorted back upstairs.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Better part of an hour,’ she said. ‘What was all that about?’
She hadn’t expected an answer. ‘She must know something after that,’ she said. ‘We could go in now.’
‘She’s still fine,’ said Buckle. ‘They said twenty-four hours.’
‘Lacey, are you there?’ Anderson’s voice sounded agitated.
‘I can hear you, Sarge,’ she replied.
‘Has a boat or vessel of any kind gone up Sayes Creek in the last fifteen minutes?’
‘Negative, Sarge.’ Lacey saw her own puzzlement reflected on the faces of both Buckle and Turner. ‘No one’s been in there since we came on shift.’
‘Well, there are eight people in the house now and nobody else arrived by car.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Course I’m bloody sure. DI Tulloch and one other on their way back upstairs. Two in the room she’s just left, that’s four. One more on that floor who hasn’t moved since we started surveillance, and one in the room next to DI Tulloch’s on the top floor. And two characters on the ground. So how did number eight squeeze in? Teleportation?’
‘We didn’t see anything, Sar
ge.’ Beads of sweat burst on Lacey’s temples as she began to scan the water around them.
Back in her room, Dana went straight into the shower. She ran the water as hot as she could bear and stood beneath it, telling herself to calm down.
They’d done nothing except carry out a perfectly ordinary, if extremely thorough, medical examination. She’d been weighed and measured, against a background conversation of how she was a little on the slim side but still very attractive. Kanash had listened to her chest and pronounced her heart and lungs perfectly healthy. He’d taken her blood pressure and seemed quite happy with that, too. She’d been sent into a toilet cubicle and asked to provide a urine sample. They tested it there and then, finding no traces of sugar or protein, which was good, apparently, but explained that it would need to be sent away for further testing. Then Stafford took blood, but did it so smoothly and expertly that Dana barely felt the needle go in. Kanash had put headphones on her and asked her to listen out for tiny pin-pricks of sound. They’d asked her to read from a card on the wall, a card with pictures on it, for women who couldn’t read the Latin alphabet. ‘Boat,’ Dana had said. ‘Fish, tree.’ She’d mimed apple and scissors for good measure.
Then she’d been asked to lie on the couch. At this point, Stafford took over, although Kanash remained in the room, hidden from sight behind the drawn curtain. Dana had been asked to undress to her underwear, and when she’d looked reluctant, Stafford had explained that the British government would only issue permits to people who were perfectly healthy.
‘Have you ever had a child?’ Her fingers had roamed over Dana’s stomach, pressing and probing. ‘Ever been pregnant?’ She’d mimed a bump over her stomach, in case Dana hadn’t understood. ‘Lie back and bring your heels towards your bottom.’ The look on her face told Dana that this was the part when it usually got difficult.
Gasping, her skin stinging, Dana turned off the shower and let the cold air flood over her. What did it matter if they were watching? It wasn’t as if she had anything else left to hide.
It had been a cervical examination, that was all. She’d had them before. They were unpleasant, you gritted your teeth, relaxed as best you could and waited for it to be over. They didn’t last long and there was absolutely no need to be such a wimp about it, but for the love of God, why had they had to do all that to her? What was going on here?
She stepped out of the cubicle and found a towel. She wrapped it around her shoulders and waited to stop shivering. From the next room came the sound of the lavatory being flushed. Then a low-pitched moaning.
78
Pari and Dana
SOMEONE WAS TAPPING on the pipes again. Pari lowered herself down until she was kneeling on the tiled bathroom floor. Three taps. The sound of the cistern died away. Pari pressed her face against the wall. There had been people in the room next to hers before now, but no one had tried to talk to her before.
‘Hello,’ she heard, in English.
She said nothing, waiting to see if the voice would speak again.
After a few seconds, it did. ‘I’m Maya. Are you OK?’
Pari understood OK, it was international language. She started to speak, but the sound that came out was somewhere between a moan and a gasp.
‘What’s wrong? Are you ill?’
‘It hurts.’ Finally, Pari was able to talk.
‘Where do you hurt? What happened to you? What’s your name?’
The English words were coming too fast. Pari took a second to process what she’d just heard. ‘I’m sick. In pain. My name is Pari.’
Silence, as though the woman on the other side of the wall was thinking. Then, ‘Have you told the nurse? The woman who brings us food?’
Crouched over like this, the cramps were too painful. Pari got to her feet.
‘How long have you been ill?’
‘I don’t know. Many days.’
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Many days.’
People in the corridor. Pari heard quick footsteps in the room next to her own. Then the other bathroom door being pulled shut.
Dana moved quickly back to her bedroom. There was a knock on the door as it began to open. Nurse Stafford was standing outside, together with the woman who brought her food and a heavy-set, middle-aged man whom Dana hadn’t seen before. He, too, was wearing scrubs, pale blue like the woman’s. His right hand was tucked into his trouser pocket.
‘Sorry to disturb you, Maya.’ Stafford stepped into the room towards her. ‘There’s just one more thing. Was there something you forgot to mention downstairs?’
The other two followed her in and the door closed behind them. Dana’s hand flew to her locket as the woman in blue scrubs approached her. The man pulled his hand from his pocket. Dana flinched, before realizing he was holding a small glass vial containing red liquid. Her hand hesitated, for just a fraction too long. The woman took hold of one arm, the man the other. She could no longer reach the locket.
‘Of course, it’s possible you didn’t know.’ Stafford was a couple of feet away, looking steadily into Dana’s face. ‘The levels we found were very low, but it does raise an interesting question. How could a woman who’s spent the last few weeks on the road from Afghanistan, closely guarded and protected every step of the way, be in your condition?’
Dana shook her head. ‘I don’t—’
‘It’s a very simple test,’ said Stafford. ‘We do it as a matter of routine. We’ve just never had a positive result before. But congratulations, Maya, if that’s really your name. You’re pregnant.’
79
Lacey
LACEY GOT BACK to the yard shortly after two in the afternoon. Neither she, Buckle nor Turner had wanted to leave their post by Sayes Creek, but Chief Inspector Cook had insisted. If anything happened, they’d be called back, he’d said, but Dana wasn’t due to be pulled out until midnight and there was no way he was going to be involved in a difficult and dangerous rescue operation with a knackered crew. It had been impossible to argue.
Out of habit, she looked for the officer who was keeping an eye on the yard. The ice-cream van that was his temporary home was empty. Nor was there any sign of him wandering around.
Her own boat was empty, too. She popped back up and went to find Eileen. No plain-clothed presence on her boat either.
‘Where are the bodyguards?’ she asked.
Eileen pulled a don’t-ask-me face. ‘They had a call-out that took priority. They’ll be back later.’
‘Better hope our neighbourhood psycho needs the cover of darkness, then,’ muttered Lacey, although privately she was relieved. Being alone for a few hours felt like a good idea.
She’d pulled off her sweatshirt when her phone started to ring. Not her usual phone – that had been lost in the river along with her canoe. The one she’d used to contact Nadia.
‘I’ve remembered something. I thought I should call you straight away.’
Lacey sat down and pulled a pencil and notepad towards her. ‘Go ahead.’
‘I think I can remember the way they took me, when I left the house,’ said Nadia.
Lacey reached across to the chart table and found the Thames Pilot Book.
‘I’ve been thinking about it ever since I spoke to you,’ said Nadia, when Lacey asked her to go ahead. ‘I bought a map of the river and tried to work it out. I’ve even been down to the water’s edge.’
‘Nadia, we know where you were kept.’ Lacey had found the chart with Sayes Creek. ‘It’s a house very close to the river. We’re watching it at the moment, but anything you can tell me will be useful.’
‘I can show you.’
Lacey looked at her watch. She had to be back at Wapping by ten o’clock. The chances were that the exact details of Nadia’s exit from the house weren’t that important any more. On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt.
‘OK, where are you now?’
‘By the water. A place called St George’s Stairs. I remember passing them that night
. And the pier just up-river.’
Lacey looked at the map. St George’s Stairs was an access point to the river very close to the South Dock Marina. The pier Nadia was referring to was Greenland Pier, a busy mooring point for passenger traffic.
‘OK, I’ll come and pick you up.’ She looked round for her car keys. ‘It will take me about half an hour to drive round to you.’
‘But it will not work in a car.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘I’ve tried to walk the route and it isn’t possible. There are places a car can’t go.’
‘I think you’ll find a police warrant card opens a lot of gates.’ Lacey checked that she had hers.
‘And there was a building. I was taken to it before they said goodbye. I can’t find it on land, I’ve been looking all day, but I think I might be able to in a boat.’
‘You want us to go on the water?’ No. Memories flooding back. The head appearing out of the dark water. Strong hands pulling her under. She did not want to go out on the river.
‘Lacey, I’m still afraid of it,’ said Nadia. ‘But I think it might be the only way.’
80
Dana
DANA WAS BEING marched downstairs again. She was pregnant? How could they tell that quickly, it had been barely more than a day. Christ, she didn’t know whether to smile or scream. They’d reached the first floor, the woman nudged her along the corridor. The treatment had worked! The egg she’d seen on the scan had popped out of its follicle. One of the several million donated sperm had found it and the two of them had decided they might just have a future together. There was a baby growing inside her. And she’d put them both in danger.
She couldn’t panic. She still had the locket. The team would be watching everyone in the house very closely. They’d be here in minutes.
Helen would kill her. Oh, please God, let her have the chance.
They were back at the examination room. The door was pushed open. Someone new was standing just in front of the window, holding up a file to the light. In the top right-hand corner was a small, startled photograph of Dana herself. The man – tall, dark-haired, wearing a well-cut suit – was studying it closely. Then he turned. Alexander Christakos, her fertility consultant.
A Dark and Twisted Tide Page 28