“I’m sure he will if he needs to.”
“If he needs to? Since when the fuck has this been about what March needs?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean...”
“Get yourself out of here.”
He looked at her. There was no point arguing. He turned to leave. When the door was safely closed, she picked up her phone and dialled a familiar number.
“Hello Mikołaj,” she said when he answered. “I think we may have a problem.”
* * *
The man took out his mobile phone, answered a call in a broad Welsh accent, and took a seat at the adjacent table. A moment later a woman arrived, also on the phone. They ended the calls simultaneously and embraced like lovers. Danny breathed out, but recognised the warning signs. Whatever the reason for Aurelia’s non-appearance, it could mean extreme danger for both of them.
The sound of his phone brought him back to the moment.
“Danny, it’s Mike.” This was not good. “I haven’t seen you and it’s making me nervous.”
“Mike, hi, sorry. I’ve been out finalising the details.”
“Is it written?”
“In the process of being written. It’s evolving by the minute.”
“What does ‘evolving’ mean?”
“It’s changing, growing.”
“Danny, are you taking the piss? I know what the bloody word means. I mean in relation to the deadline.”
“Ah, sorry. Of course. It’s a crazy time. Look, I’m about to do an interview. Can I call you later?”
“I should hope there’s no need. I just need your copy.”
“I know. In reality, though, I think it’s going to be Monday.”
From the silence, that seemed to have gone down as badly as he expected.
“Everything’s happening on Sunday,” he continued eventually. He knew it sounded like an excuse.
“Call me later and tell me why,” said his editor. “And it had better be bloody good.”
The call ended. It was clear Aurelia wasn’t going to show, and sitting here waiting was achieving nothing. Danny decided to head home. It was time to talk to Anna.
* * *
His wife wasn’t talking to him, but that wasn’t anything new. She’d shown remarkable tolerance over the years, he had to give her that, but normally he was out of the house most of the time. Since his suspension, however, he’d been forced to spend much more time at home, and the long-suffering Mrs March was beginning to have had enough of it.
“What are you smirking at?” she said at last, breaking the silence that had lasted into the afternoon.
“Ah, my dear Raphaela,” he said. “Just enjoying the day.”
“Well, enjoy it somewhere else, would you?” she said. “You’re taking up a lot of space.”
He was used to that kind of comment. It had long been a marriage of convenience. He supposed they must have loved each other originally, but now, after more than 30 years, the passion had long since gone. The initial justification for their separate rooms had been so that she wouldn’t be disturbed if he was working late. Neither had thought to change the arrangement since the start of his enforced absence. It suited them both.
March’s room doubled as an office. He’d spent a lot of time there over the last couple of days, working on a plan. He was a master at self-preservation, but this was the most challenging yet. At least now he’d managed to get Danny interested, by telling him not to investigate. It was so easy to manipulate a journalist.
Within three days the deal would be done, but that could be just the start. Coming away unscathed would be one thing, but that was far from a certainty. It was a risk, of course, but preparing a contingency for every eventuality could be the difference between success and a life behind bars. Or, indeed, no life at all.
But now there was another dimension. The phone call had been unexpected but the possibilities were intriguing. Well, well, well. In some ways it was perfect. He just needed to make the most of it.
“You shall have your wish, my darling,” he said. “I am going out for the afternoon. Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll get something while I’m out.”
He picked up his jacket and headed out. He didn’t say goodbye. His mind was elsewhere. Yes, he was smirking, and with very good reason.
27
NO sooner had Danny descended the steps at the entrance to the Friends House cafe than he felt somebody come up close behind him, walking in step, and getting closer. With a rising sense of fear, he turned, ready to confront his assailant, and instead looked straight into Aurelia’s terrified eyes.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Instead she turned and headed further into the garden, then through a gate at the far end, and eventually into Endsleigh Street. Her pace slowed. As Danny caught up she pulled him into a doorway, out of sight as much as you could be in a city as well-populated as London.
“Are you okay?” he asked urgently, but he could see she wasn’t. She looked close to tears.
“I must be very quick or they will look for me,” she said. “Can you help me?”
“Help you? Of course, but how?”
She looked different outside the parlour. Smaller. More vulnerable. And so very, very tired.
“I was promised a job. Come to London, we have a good job. They made me pay lots of money. My family in Poland worked hard to send me, for a better life. But then when I got here they tell me I owe them more money and I have to work for them, and until I pay them they take my passport.”
“And hence the parlour?”
She nodded.
“Jesus. How long have you been there?”
“Nearly two years. But I still owe them money. They charge me rent but it’s a terrible room. Every day I owe them more. And I have to work all the time, doing terrible things.”
“Aurelia, I’m so sorry. Can you go to the police?”
“The police will arrest me, and if I get away they’ll kill me.”
He knew the threat was serious.
“Can you help me?” she asked again.
“Of course, in any way.”
“They have new girls coming Sunday. You have to stop them.”
“I know, I’m working on that. Do you know where?”
“Somewhere, East End. I heard them talking.”
“Who’s them? Mikołaj and Graham March?”
“Yes, you know them?”
“I know March. That’s why I asked yesterday. I’m trying to find out what he’s up to.”
“He’s a bad man. He makes me do terrible things.”
“I can imagine.” The thought was stomach-churning. “What happened? You disappeared then I got thrown out.”
“They watch, through the mirror. They’re listening. I had to go. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry, there’s nothing to apologise for. I’m sorry to cause you problems.”
She shrugged but still looked close to tears, as though she was terrified of a world completely out of control.
“Can you stop them?” she asked.
“I’m going to try. Do you know where it’s happening?”
“No. But they’re meeting on Sunday. You can follow them.”
“At the parlour?”
She nodded.
“What time?”
“Evening. Seven. But be careful. They are very dangerous men. I must go now. They will be looking for me.”
“Don’t worry. But thank you. I’ll do everything I can.” He wasn’t sure if she heard the final words as she ran back down the street, in the direction of hell.
Danny paused for a moment to let everything sink in. It was every bit as bad as he’d imagined. The date and time were progress, even if the location was still elusive. But really, what could he do? He couldn’t walk in there alone, unarmed. It would be tantamount to suicide. What had Clare said? These aren’t your British villains. They were violent. Brutal. They operated under different rules, placing zero value on human lives apart from their own. He
’d have to talk to Amy, tell her everything, and then just be on hand to capture the exclusive. And even then, it could be deadly.
He needed to speak to Clare but he didn’t have her number so email was the only option. He turned to head home. Everything was still three days away. There was still time, but things were getting tense. And he still needed to talk to Anna. Would she want to go to dinner? How could he even think about that now - and yet he knew it was perhaps the most important thing of all. Was it even the right time to ask? Whatever the state of their relationship, her friendship was still hugely important to him. It couldn’t hurt to ask, just to show his appreciation if nothing else.
He arrived home, expecting to find both Anna and Holly, but neither was there. Where were they? He knocked on Anna’s bedroom door, and then, when he got no answer, he opened it to look inside. That was weird. Her suitcase was back on the bed. It looked like she was moving back into her own room. But in that case, where was Holly? And why hadn’t she phoned to let him know what was happening? The first familiar pangs of unease began to mount.
He checked his phone again. There were no missed calls, but he dialled his voice mail, just in case she’d called when he’d already been on the phone.
She had. There was a message.
“Hi Danny, only me. Please don’t be cross but Holly’s gone. I think you might have been right about her. She was going through my desk this morning. Anyway, we had a row and she moved out. No idea where to, which is a worry, but it’s probably for the best. I hope she’s okay. Anyway, I’m going out but I’ll see you tonight. I don’t know what time. I hope you’re having a good day. Take care. See you.”
Well, that answered that. But the thought of Anna with Mitch gave him a hollow feeling. Suddenly all thoughts of dinner were cast aside. His appetite had vanished. Again.
Danny emailed Clare with an update on his meeting with Aurelia and then tried to call DS Amy Cranston. She wasn’t there so he left a message saying he needed to speak to her urgently. But after that his mind was blank. He was supposed to call Mike but it was getting late. He’d do that tomorrow. He just kept picturing Anna with this unknown man. Smiling at him, laughing with him. And God knows what else. It was too much to bear. He went to his room and lay on the bed. Her pillow still had an indentation from where she’d spent the night. He traced the shape with his hand, picking up a stray hair that she’d left behind. The hollowness began to grow, consuming him. He closed his eyes. He just wanted everything to be back to normal, like the happy times they’d shared until so recently. How could everything go so wrong so quickly?
* * *
He came to when he heard a knock at his door. It opened and there was Anna, grinning at him.
“Wakey wakey, sleepy head,” she said.
He tried to shake himself awake.
“What time is it?”
“About half past six.”
“In the evening?”
“Yes, obviously. How long do you think you’ve been asleep for?” She laughed.
He propped himself up.
“I thought you’d gone out,” he said.
“I did.”
“No, I mean for the evening.”
“I didn’t know how long I’d be. But no, I’m back now. And you haven’t got time for sleep. I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Get up and I’ll show you.”
She disappeared. Danny climbed off the bed, trying to clear his head. Then he followed Anna through to the living room. She’d arranged a selection of prints and contact sheets on the desk.
“I think you’re going to like these,” she said.
He started to look, but couldn’t quite believe his eyes.
28
I HAVE to confess, I was pleased with myself. Danny looked at the pictures and I could see the questions forming in his head. Hopefully I’d just made him proud of me.
“What are these? Sorry, I don’t understand,” he said.
“It’s Graham March,” I said.
“I can see that. But who’s he with? And where are they from?”
“I’ve got no idea who he’s with, but they had a very long chat.”
“But when? And where?”
“This afternoon, over drinks.”
“But... How?”
I found it hard to suppress a smile.
“I decided to use a bit of, well, initiative,” I started. “I didn’t have much on, and Holly had gone, and you were out at work so I thought I’d go on a bit of a stake-out.”
“You did what?” Danny’s expression was hard to fathom, but it looked like a mixture of bafflement and affection. I’d accept that.
“I just thought it might help. I went to March’s house and parked up with the camera, waiting to see if he did anything. To be honest, I’m not completely sure I was the only one. There was another car there that seemed to be watching him too, but that one went after a while.”
He seemed momentarily lost for words but eventually found his voice.
“Anna, these are incredible. What happened?”
“I waited for about an hour and a half. Maybe more. I was just deciding it was probably pointless when he went out. So, I followed him. Then he met this guy and I started taking pictures from the car, through the window, and then more when they left. Any idea who he is? Is it important?”
“Oh, Anna, come here,” he said, and gave me a giant hug. Which was nice. “I don’t know who it is but he looks familiar. I can’t think but it might be dynamite. It’s a good job I didn’t know or I’d have tried to stop you, but I’m bloody glad you did.”
He kept studying the pictures while I went to put on the kettle. Then thought better of it and returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. I waved them at him in a questioning manner.
“I might have a better idea,” he said, looking up. “Are you free this evening?”
“At the moment.”
“Could I take you to dinner? To say thank you? Your choice.”
It didn’t take much thinking.
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
“Are you sure? I just thought it would be nice after all that’s happened over the last few days. I hate falling out with you, and obviously to say thanks for this.”
“Of course I’m sure. I’ll put the wine back and get changed. Italian?”
“You’re on.”
I left Danny trying to scan one of the pictures with a handheld scanner that looked a bit like a cross between a hairdryer and one of those things that does barcodes. He said he wanted to email it to a couple of people to see if he could get help identifying the other man. I was so pleased I’d been able to help. It might all amount to nothing but it felt good to have done something positive, and it took my mind off Holly for a bit. She’d taken nothing of ours away with her as far as I could tell, but I supposed it could be a while before we noticed anything was missing.
By the time I was ready, Danny was turning off the computer, and ten minutes later we were heading out. The mood was refreshingly good. It’s amazing, sometimes, how quickly things like that can turn.
Danny brought me up to speed on developments. He explained how he’d spent the morning in the office and then had a phone call from someone called Aurelia who he’d met at the massage parlour, and was not so much a prostitute as a victim of some form of slavery. It sounded horrific. I didn’t ask how she’d managed to get hold of his number, although thinking about it now, it was a bit weird. There were lots of things that didn’t seem to make sense to me, but maybe I was just increasingly living in a world of my own. Everything seemed to be building up to Sunday. He seemed nervous, but excited in some ways. In fairness, if it all came off, it would be a hell of a story.
The starters arrived and we had the first glasses from a bottle of Valpolicella, which started the evening off nicely. It was good to be out with Danny, but there was still an atmosphere between us. It definitely wasn’t quite like the old days, but I was determined to
make an effort.
We talked about music. I mentioned the new Sparks album, and then, turning to cinema, I said I’d like to try to catch The Hudsucker Proxy while it was still on release. He suggested coming with me. I’m pretty sure he did that just to make sure I didn’t arrange to go with Mitch instead. And yet as I was having that thought, so I was thinking how nice it would be to let Mitch take me, on a proper date, without the baggage of everything Danny and I had been through.
As the main course arrived (I went for pizza, Danny the gnocchi), I couldn’t resist asking the question that had been on my mind all day.
“Any more word from your murderous friend?” I asked, dropping the “girl” from the final word.
“Clare? Can you not actually bring yourself to say her name?” he replied, grinning at me. The grin annoyed me, despite my efforts to be friendly.
“She has so many,” I replied. “I forget which is current.” And mentally patted myself on the back for such a legendary display of wit. She’d used all sorts of names while up to her previous misdemeanours, which, let it be remembered, were fairly severe.
“It’s still Clare at the moment,” he said.
“Oh, so you have then. How is she?”
“I daren’t tell you whether I have or not, or you’ll go off in a huff.”
“I will not go off in a huff!”
“Yes, you will. And anyway, I don’t think she does the name thing any more.”
“Really?” I was tempted to make some sort of leopard/spot observation, then decided it was a cliché and I should come up with something more creative, but the wine was getting the better of me.
“Yes, really.”
“Well, have you?”
“Do you promise not to get in a bad temper if I have?”
“I promise to try. But Danny, you know what? I only get upset because I care about you.”
“I know and that’s lovely, but you mustn’t worry. She’ll disappear again soon, I’m sure.”
“Will you stop avoiding the question?”
Out Of The Red Page 17