DARK TRADE a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by Helen H. Durrant

  “I could know him,” she realised suddenly. “He could live on the Lansdowne. I know most folk on the estate. Is anyone else involved in the murders?”

  Speedy didn’t want to discuss the case with Michelle, but he wanted to reassure her that she was quite safe. “We want to find that reporter, Tony Rouse. He’s gone to ground. Well, either that or he’s been hurt. We don’t know which. It’s possible he’s involved.”

  Michelle was wide-eyed with curiosity. “What makes you think he’s been hurt? My mum went out with him once. He can be a right laugh.”

  “If you see him, be sure to let me know. He could be in danger.”

  “A bloke got shot last night outside Argo House,” she told him soberly. “That estate isn’t safe anymore.”

  “That was a gang-related thing.”

  “Are you sure? What gangs? The kids who hang around by the bins?”

  “No, the shooting was down to a falling out among those who run the gangs. Nothing for you to worry about.”

  “I’m still not going back. Can I come and stay with you?”

  Ordinarily Speedy wouldn’t have minded. In fact, he’d have been flattered. But Michelle was so full on. She was noisy, messy, and she couldn’t cook, so in effect she was a massive distraction. But he couldn’t refuse. She was afraid, and it was known that she was seeing him. That made him feel responsible. “Okay, we’ll go back to your place together and pick up what you need.”

  Michelle hugged him and planted a big kiss on his cheek.

  “Where was it you wanted to go?”

  “A club in Deansgate Locks,” he told her.

  “Do you mind if we don’t? I’d much rather go back to yours and have an early night. I’ve had a nasty fright. I need some wine, and a cuddle.”

  How could he refuse? So much for the research. The club would have to wait until another night.

  * * *

  “I’m not measuring these, you know, and that’s four you’ve had already.”

  “I wasn’t counting.” Greco smiled at her.

  “If you go getting drunk again, don’t blame me.”

  “It’s your vodka we’re drinking,” he reminded her, shaking the bottle. “You brought it with you to drink, and there isn’t a lot left.”

  “Minibar?”

  Greco felt more relaxed than he had in months. Grace had put the radio on low. He’d removed his jacket and tie and relaxed back onto the soft pillows of the double bed.

  She handed him a glass. “Whiskey and soda to finish, and that’s your lot.”

  He downed the amber liquid. The clock said it was only ten thirty, but he needed to sleep. Tomorrow would be another long day.

  “Your room is next door.” Grace prodded him gently.

  Her voice was soft, gentle, and the perfume she wore brought a smile to his lips. It was familiar. Suzy had worn it too. Pat was right. Grace was a very attractive young woman. He’d been mad not to pay more attention before.

  “Come on, Stephen.” She nudged him, but his eyes were closed. “I’m having a shower. You’ve got until I’ve finished, then I’ll throw you out if I have to.”

  “You’ve plied me with drink again.”

  “No one had your arm up your back.”

  She was leaning over him. He could feel her long hair tickling his cheek.

  “Ten minutes, then you’re gone, Greco — understand?”

  He opened his eyes and nodded. But there was no way that was going to happen.

  Chapter 14

  Day 4

  Greco’s head was pounding. The clock said six thirty in the morning. He should make a move. But drinking last night with Grace had left him with a hangover from hell. Rubbing his eyes, he rolled over in an attempt to get up. Immediately a hand snatched the duvet back. He heard a soft groan. He inhaled sharply, blinked his tired eyes a couple of times, then gently lifted the duvet. Grace Harper was asleep beside him! Worse than that, they were both starkers. His heart sank and panic set in. What had he done? This was all wrong! He had to get out. This was a long way from simply crashing on her sofa like last time.

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Not so fast, lover boy. It’s rude to shag and run.”

  “We didn’t!” he protested, his brain racing. Why couldn’t he remember?

  “Oh yes, we did,” Grace said. “For a bloke so intent on being just my friend, and such a goody two-shoes, there was no stopping you.”

  Grace hadn’t opened her eyes. Her long blonde hair was loose and splayed over the pillow. She looked lovely, so relaxed and at ease with herself. So very different from him.

  “Want some coffee?” he asked feebly.

  She smiled and rolled onto her front. “I thought you’d never ask. I’m so warm and comfy, I don’t want to move.”

  “We’ll have to soon. Things to do, remember?”

  Greco slipped out from under the duvet and wrapped himself in her dressing gown.

  “Mine!” Grace giggled, watching him. “You’ve forgotten, this is my room.”

  “I can’t go out onto the corridor in my birthday suit, can I?” He only had what he’d worn yesterday. No fresh clothes, no washbag.

  “Stick those on.” She nodded at the pile of clothes lying on the chair.

  “I always shower first and put on fresh clothes each day.” He sounded almost petulant. But he couldn’t help how he was. It was all part of the OCD ritual.

  “Make the coffee and I’ll get your stuff for you. You can shower here too.”

  “The staff will know I’ve not slept in there.”

  “Rough the bed up a bit. Stop stressing about everything. What does it matter what folk think?”

  That was something else. Would Grace tell the rest of the team what had happened between them? He looked at her, and it felt as if he were seeing Grace for the first time. Previously Suzy and their relationship had clouded the issue, but not anymore. Pat had seen it. She’d met Grace a number of times, and thought she was a woman he should get to know better.

  “What happened last night . . .” he began.

  She sat up. “I can see the cogs working, Stephen. Get that kettle on and we’ll do a deal.”

  She was laughing at him.

  “What sort of deal?”

  Grace tilted her head to one side. “I’ll keep my mouth shut. That is what you want, isn’t it? You’re not ready to go public yet?”

  Go public? What did she think this was? “I’m not ready for any of this yet. It’s too soon after—”

  “Don’t say it, Stephen — that really is boring.”

  Greco knew it was, but it hadn’t stopped him from saying it. “Kettle’s on. I’ll go next door.” He pulled her dressing tighter around himself. “Shower and dress. If you want coffee, you’ll have to make it yourself.”

  He was confused. He didn’t know what to think or feel. After months of convincing himself that he wasn’t interested, he’d gone and slept with Grace anyway. Suddenly the goal posts had shifted. He couldn’t understand what had changed.

  He took his time getting ready. The thought of having to face Grace over the breakfast table was winding him up. He made a quick phone call to Border Control. A further call to another official called Raymond Hope was organised for later on that morning. That sorted, he rang Pat.

  “Having a nice time?” she asked.

  “It’s not a holiday,” he reminded her.

  “You sound stressed, Stephen. Something happened?”

  There was no way he could tell her. “It’s just work. Tillyflop okay?”

  “She’s fine, eating her breakfast. Want a word?”

  Not even chatting to his daughter could shift the thoughts of Grace. She filled his head. When he closed his eyes, he could see her lying there naked in the bed they’d shared. This was going to take some sorting.

  * * *

  “The good news is that it isn’t human blood,” Leah Wells announced to the team. Present for the briefing were Speedy, Joel Hough and PC Garet
h Dobbs. “According to Greg Pentland from the Duggan, it belonged to a pig.”

  She’d written all the new information on the board. McCabe would drop in later and, despite having nothing concrete, at least it looked impressive.

  “So how does that happen? The spray was halfway up the wall,” Speedy said.

  “When we locate Mr Rouse, we’ll ask him.”

  “Was it even a bullet hole?” asked Speedy.

  “Yes, someone had used a gun in there. The bullet was found lodged in the wall.”

  “Rouse does have a gun licence,” said Joel.

  “So Rouse, or someone, destroys the décor in the bathroom, then sprays pig’s blood on the tiles to make it look like he’s been shot?”

  Leah shrugged. “It looks that way.”

  “But he’d realise we’d find out the truth pretty quick. He’s a lot of things, but he isn’t stupid.”

  “It bought him some time, Speedy,” Leah suggested. “Enough time to disappear. Word will have been out within an hour of you visiting his apartment and finding that blood. Rouse’s enemies will think he’s dead. Meanwhile, he legs it.”

  “So he set it up. He could be anywhere, in that case.”

  Joel Hough looked up from his monitor. “We do have something. His mobile phone number. We might catch up with him that way.”

  “Good call, Joel. Get on it.” Leah hadn’t meant right away, but Joel’s attention was already back on the screen.

  “If we’re going with people trafficking, who do we suspect is behind it?” Speedy asked. “Until Jamal Ali escaped and got himself murdered, we were none the wiser. This is a well-planned operation. Folk are being brought in and we’ve no idea how, or for what purpose.”

  “That’s not strictly true, Speedy,” Leah reminded him. “DCI Greco has been told that people are being brought in by lorry. Young men, teenage kids from the camp in Calais.”

  “The camp is being wound up. So that won’t last.”

  “The details are sketchy. But some of those boys were brought to our area. Jamal’s sister told Greco that her brother had to undergo tests to ensure that he was healthy.”

  “Healthy enough to work in some backstreet sweatshop?” asked Speedy.

  “We’ve no idea. But Jamal Ali had more than one set of tests. After which he was deemed to be ‘special’ and brought to Manchester.”

  “And we’ve no idea what was so special about him?”

  “I’m afraid not. But I suspect Tony Rouse was onto something. He was tailing Jamal. For all we know he’d been watching him for days. What do you all think?”

  “The Rashid Clinic. Perhaps they were responsible for these tests. The name keeps cropping up. We should look at it a little closer,” Speedy suggested.

  “It’s a long shot. I can’t work out why they’d be involved. They have no need for slave labour.”

  “It’s worth another visit though, don’t you think?”

  “Okay, take PC Dobbs, go have another word. But tread carefully. We have nothing concrete on them. It’s Rouse who thinks they are involved, but we don’t know if they are or not.” Leah’s eyes flicked to Joel who was tapping away on his computer. Had he even been listening? she wondered. The young DC was keen but far too fond of doing his own thing. “Joel, are you up to speed with this?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He looked up and then around at the others. “I’m just checking Rouse’s phone records. He made a call an hour ago. His location was the Stockport area, so he’s still local.”

  Leah nodded. “I’ll give DCI Greco a ring shortly and tell him.”

  “When ballistics at the Duggan get back, hopefully we’ll know something about the gun,” Leah told them. “Speedy, did you get anything last night?”

  “No, ma’am, something came up and I wasn’t able to go. I’ll go tonight,” he said.

  * * *

  “Not hungry?” Grace asked sitting down opposite Greco at their table. “It all looks very nice and we don’t know when we’ll eat next.”

  “I’ve got a headache,” he told her, stirring his coffee.

  “So have I. It’s called a hangover. But a full English should fix that.”

  “About what happened—”

  “No, Stephen, not now. It really isn’t a big deal. If it suits you, just forget all about it.”

  That was the problem. He couldn’t forget. He’d slept with her, and broken his own rules. He didn’t sleep with women he wasn’t in a proper relationship with, but apart from that, Grace was a DC and he was her boss. The rules he’d broken there could see an end to his career. He watched Grace walk off to help herself to breakfast from the buffet. As she strode across the floor, a number of male eyes turned to watch her. She was wearing her long hair in a ponytail, but she’d done something to soften the effect. Scraping her hair back like that usually made her look hard, but not today. He watched as she went around the buffet, chatting to folk and choosing what to eat. She was completely unfazed by what had gone on between them. A fringe, that was the difference, he realised as she returned to their table with bacon and egg.

  “You should get some, sort you out.”

  “Coffee is fine.”

  “Please don’t sulk all day, Stephen. You make me feel as if it was all my fault, and it wasn’t.”

  She was right. He wasn’t handling this well. If he was honest, he was disappointed with himself. Not for sleeping with Grace, because he did like her. It was admitting it that was the problem. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was letting Suzy down in some major way, which was ridiculous when he analysed it.

  “But it was your fault.” He could have bitten his tongue off. He was still on the defensive. He couldn’t help it. “You’ve done nothing but throw yourself at me for months.” That had come out all wrong too. “Last night . . . that’s not who I am. I don’t do that sort of thing.”

  “Yes, you do, Stephen. Just admit it and move on. No one forced you. What is it you’re worried about?”

  “Any number of things. The job for a start. You work in my team. I’m your boss.”

  “I’m not going to tell anyone. Your reputation is safe with me, Stephen. I would never be so vindictive as to use what happened against you. Get this sorted inside that head of yours, because we have work to do.”

  Right on cue his mobile rang. It was Leah. They spoke for a few minutes as she brought him up to speed, then he checked the text Joel had sent him. “Rouse is alive and still in Manchester,” he told Grace.

  “So what now? Are we going home?”

  “We’ll have another word with Amani first.”

  Grace had cleaned her plate. “Does that mean we’re checking out this morning?” she asked.

  “Perhaps later today. We’ve got things to do here first. I’ve got a couple of phone calls to make.”

  “I’ll get my coat and stuff while you finish your coffee.”

  He watched her walk off. She wasn’t happy and he couldn’t blame her. He needed to work out what was going on with his emotions, and fast.

  Chapter 15

  “She isn’t here,” a surly looking Marco told them. “Amani left last night. She didn’t leave a forwarding address.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Greco. “She isn’t hiding somewhere because she’s afraid?”

  “She was afraid alright. She reckoned you would tell the immigration people, and they would come for her. That they’d give her a hard time. Amani told me she’d had enough and was going.”

  “We wouldn’t do that,” Grace assured him. “We gave her our numbers. All she had to do was ring us. We would have put her mind at ease.”

  “You can’t help her,” he sneered. “Sooner or later the people who are doing this, bringing the boys into the country, would find her. They are killers. If they knew she had spoken to you, her life would be worthless. Amani had to get away before they came for her.”

  “Do you know who these people are, Marco?” asked Greco.

  “No. I only know the man wh
o organises things is English but not from round here. He speaks like her.” He nodded at Grace.

  “You mean he’s from the North?”

  “I don’t know what he is. He spoke to Amani once on the phone. I answered it. They didn’t talk for long but he terrified her. It was when Jamal first escaped from them.”

  The name Ray Shaw sprung to mind.

  “We won’t find her now.” Greco said, once they were outside. He felt sure Amani would have gone back to London. “We need to look elsewhere for answers. Track Rouse down for a start.”

  “Back to Manchester, then.”

  “It looks like Rouse is in hiding. He’s afraid of something or someone. That might make him more likely to talk to us.”

  “Perhaps this Northern man who frightened Amani?” Grace suggested.

  “In the meantime we’ll go back to the hotel. I’ve got to speak to a man from Border Control anyway.”

  “What about the local force?”

  “They told me that during the season there are any number of foreign workers in the city. They haven’t got the resources to check them all out.”

  “A feeble excuse. Sounds as if they’re not even trying. Amani told us that Jamal had had medical tests. What do you reckon they were testing him for?” asked Grace.

  “Could be anything. Maybe fitness for work like she said. There have been outbreaks of all sorts at that Calais camp.”

  “So where was this testing done, and by whom? Because I’m thinking it could be down to the Rashid Clinic.”

  “That’s what Leah thinks too. Speedy is going back there this morning to sound them out. But that doesn’t fit with the clinic’s reputation. They carry out cosmetic procedures. They are high end and well known.”

  “I looked them up,” said Grace. “They don’t only do cosmetic stuff. Rashid and Horton are both top-notch surgeons. They were both surgeons in the NHS before they switched. We need to dig deeper. There will be something. Their name keeps cropping up. The event at the Millstone. I don’t think that was a coincidence. I think Jamal went there to see someone, and before they threw him out he managed to eat some food. Whatever those doctors are up to, they will be getting paid for it with dodgy money. A lot of money.”