The Badge & the Pen Thrillers

by Roger A Price

  ‘Agreed, and even then, only when we are watertight against him. I’ve dealt with that slippery bastard before. Always had my suspicions. But first we have a more pressing issue.’

  Amal Sadiq, Vinnie thought. But where to start?

  ‘Let’s assume she is being held somewhere in the city centre. So let’s get a ring of patrols working in ever reducing concentric circles towards the centre looking for any sign of her or Grady. Or indeed Babik, though I wouldn’t expect him to show.’

  ‘I’ll ask Jim to arrange that, being local. And let’s add a van with a loudspeaker, it might provoke a response,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘Good idea, and make sure we have some poster-sized photos of Amal on the side of the van. Someone must have seen her.’

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Christine saw Vinnie from across the incident room, where Harry had just held a press conference concerning the man who had ‘fallen’ from the bridge the night before. That was obviously what had diverted Vinnie from their single bed shenanigans. She sighed inwardly, and wondered if they would ever get any private time. But now was not the time to dwell on such things. June had asked her to cover the initial press conference, and promised to get someone else up to Preston mid-morning with an OB unit so that she could carry on with plan A.

  Christine found a coffee shop in the city centre, where she could have breakfast, and email her copy in from her smartphone using the coffee shop’s free wifi. When she’d finished, June rang her and asked her what she planned to do next. ‘I thought I’d start with the homeless. There’s a refuge in the centre and then if that draws a blank, I’ll head up to the red light district and see if any girls have started early today.’

  ‘What about the area where you last saw that van?’ June asked.

  ‘It’s near to the red light district, so I’ll have a snoop around whilst I’m there.’

  ‘I know you are a big girl, but be careful,’ June said.

  Christine smiled to herself. She knew that on one level, June was mentally ticking a box as she spoke. But she also knew the editor did actually care.

  ‘Oh, before you go, can you email a photo of the deceased? So we can at least put a visual up on screen when the news item goes out.’

  ‘Sorry, June, they haven’t released it yet. They say they won’t, until the body has been formally identified.’

  ‘Or they decide they want an urgent press appeal,’ June said.

  Christine didn’t answer. She wasn’t in the mood for one of June’s ‘the police are only nice when they want something’ rants. June ended the impasse herself. ‘I’ll get your replacement to harangue Harry Delany as soon as they land in Preston.’

  Christine exchanged farewells with June and then headed out of the café.

  Ten minutes later she was talking to a lovely middle-aged lady, who was in charge of the day staff at the Centre Safe Stay refuge. Currently, there were ten overnighters of whom only two were up, each nursing a cup of tea. Neither had ever heard of a Babik or a Boldo who ran girls. And as she had no descriptions, she had known it was a long shot, but to be honest, if she’d asked the two she spoke to what their own first names were, she doubted she would have received a more convincing response. But it was worth a try. The lady said she could come back later if she wanted. Christine knew that if she mentioned these slimeballs’ names often enough, her entreaty might just reach the right ear; or the wrong one.

  Next she’d try Fletcher Road, in the Deepdale part of the city. She knew she’d have far more luck from early evening onwards, but it was still worth a try now. She knew from experience that many, if not most, of these girls were heroin addicts and that could force them out early, hoping to pick up a passing punter to raise money for their breakfast fix. She almost hoped she wouldn’t find any this early. It wasn’t ten o’clock yet.

  *

  An hour later she had driven around Fletcher Road and all roads leading to and from it, and hadn’t seen a single streetwalker. She’d found the bit of rough land where the punter had parked his van the other day, but it was empty now. Much of this area had clearly once been a thriving community of terraced houses, but most were gone, replaced with industrial units interspaced with the odd mill. The new and old architecture were ill-fitting neighbours. She decided to park up and walk.

  As a journalist she was never happier than when she was out and about chasing a story, unlike some of her peers. Vinnie had once made a similar comment about detectives, although they would have to venture out more than a reporter, but you couldn’t really get a feel for a place unless you breathed in the air it stood in. Same with crime scenes for Vinnie no doubt.

  She was just about to give up for the moment, when her phone rang. She pulled over to take the call. It was Vinnie. He was calling for two reasons: firstly, to apologise for his early departure due to the bridge death, and secondly, to ask if she intended to stay in Preston all day again.

  She was. ‘We both have our jobs to do, as you have often said, Vinnie, so no worries and yes, I’ll probably have to work tonight in Preston.’ But before she could elaborate, something caught her eye. A blue car, 100 metres up ahead, had abruptly pulled over. It must have passed her, but she hadn’t noticed. What caught her eye now, apart from its sudden movement, was that she could see that there were two people in it, and the driver reached across the front seat passenger to push the door open. She asked Vinnie to hang on a sec as she watched further.

  The driver pushed the passenger out of the car and drove off with the door still open. Forward motion closed it, but her attention was now on the passenger. A female, who had landed roughly onto her side. She had a bag of some kind over her head. Christine quickly told Vinnie what she had seen and he said he would be with her in five.

  Christine drove up alongside the woman and jumped out of the car to help her. She could see that the woman was struggling to get to her feet; then she saw why. Her hands were tied behind her back. Christine quickly untied the woman as she reassured her. Taking the balaclava from her head, she revealed a lady of Asian heritage, in her late thirties. The woman said she was OK as she slowly recovered her breathing. Christine helped her into her car and told her that the police were on their way. The woman looked very relieved and then, Christine asked her name.

  ‘Amal Sadiq,’ the woman said. ‘I’ve been held hostage for several days.’

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Christine stayed with Amal, at Amal’s request, as she was taken by Vinnie to the Royal Preston Hospital. Vinnie remained professional throughout, and Christine noted that he limited his questioning of Amal about her incarceration to the bare minimum: did she know where she had been held? Did she know where her abductor was now? Amal said that all she knew was that the address was only a five minute drive from where she was released, and that a woman had driven her there. Vinnie said the rest could wait until she had been checked over.

  Amal stated that she didn’t want anyone informed that she was now free, and in particular her husband Mohammed. When Vinnie told her that he had been sentenced to 39 months, she simply said, “Not long enough.” Clearly, all was not well with the marriage.

  The visit to the hospital only took a couple of hours and the doctors said Amal had no physical injuries, but any mental ones could take longer to be obvious and they would refer her to see someone as an outpatient. However, it would take time as waiting lists were excessive. Amal didn’t seem too concerned and Christine could see that she was a very strong and resilient woman. She admired those qualities.

  Once back at the police station, Amal asked Christine if she would remain with her as her chaperone, which she hadn’t expected, but was only too happy to do so. Vinnie spoke to Harry and he had said he had no problems with the arrangement, as long as Christine didn’t use anything she heard, or indeed broadcast anything at all, without prior approval. Christine had expected this, but did ask, ‘Surely we need to stand the public down, let them know that Amal has been found safe and well?’<
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  ‘You’re right, but let’s agree the form of words to be used first, said Vinnie.’

  Christine nodded and they spent the next ten minutes doing just that. She put her mobile on loudspeaker as she reported in to June, so that Harry and Vinnie could hear. That done, Harry left to concentrate on the new murder and promised to give June an update for the tea-time news. Apparently, the deceased’s widow had now formally identified the body and the post mortem was underway. Christine couldn’t image that it would take too long, and said so.

  ‘You be surprised,’ Vinnie said. ‘OK, he’s fallen from a motorway bridge and been hit by a car, so cause of death won’t take long, but with a Home Office pathologist it goes way beyond that. They’ll probably start with fingernail scrapings in case he had a tussle with his killer prior to being thrown to his death.’

  So the cops thought he was pushed. Christine had suspected as much.

  It was gone three o’clock by the time everyone was ready, and Vinnie brought one of his DCs into the interview room to join them. He said that once they had received Amal’s verbal account, the DC could write up her statement and Vinnie would then go through his notes and action any urgent lines of enquiry.

  It was gone four by the time Amal had talked them through the first part of her ordeal, how she had been snatched and her initial days in captivity. What came next was more interesting. She had listened to conversations with as much concentration as she could muster, including when the boss man (clearly Babik, though she had never heard his name used) spoke on the phone with someone called Mr Boldo, whom she assumed was above him. Amal also explained how she’d struggled to understand the only female she encountered. Babik called her Sue or Susan, and they seemed to be an item. But whenever Sue was alone with Amal, as in when she brought her food and water, or took her to the bathroom, she was different: warmer and kinder.

  Christine had keep her own mouth shut throughout the interview, as she had been instructed to do but found it nearly impossible to maintain, until Amal’s last remark. She jumped in. ‘But I saw the aggressive way that the driver of the blue car — Sue — pushed you out the passenger door onto Fletcher Road!’

  Amal turned to face her. ‘Yes, I found that hard to compute myself. Throughout the journey she had been kind and apologetic, saying my incarceration had been without her knowledge or agreement, and then she just pushed me out the door like I was a dog. I wasn’t even sure that the car had completely stopped.’

  ‘Perhaps she wondered who might be watching her,’ Christine asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Amal replied.

  ‘Nothing, Amal,’ Vinnie cut in. ‘Thanks Christine, I’ll take it from here.’

  She took the hint and shut up, but mused what had been said.

  As they were nearing the end of her chronology of events, Amal dropped a bombshell. She told them that she had been sickened to her stomach to learn that her husband ran a brothel for Babik, how throughout his trial he had insisted to her that he had not known the true nature of the premises he had been in charge of, until the police raid. She had believed him — until she overheard Babik talk of it. Clearly, Mohammed was guilty as hell. She explained that Babik had warned her not to speak to the police on her release, or he would have her husband killed in prison. Babik had clearly believed that this threat was sufficient. She said that she reassured Babik and went along with it, even begging him to leave Mohammed alone. She was confident she had been convincing.

  But she didn’t love him.

  ‘In fact, I’ve never loved him, just made do with my lot,’ she said.

  ‘Was your marriage an arranged one?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was it a forced marriage?’ Vinnie further asked.

  She hesitated slightly, then said, ‘No, but I would have been cast aside by my family had I not gone through with it.’

  Christine shuddered. She could only imagine how it must have been for Amal, and for many young people of Asian heritage.

  Then came the real bombshell.

  ‘During Babik’s, or whatever his name is, phone conversations with Mr Boldo it was clear that they have a further premises in Preston. Another mill of some kind and it is their “premier gold card” premises, to use those monsters’ words.’

  Christine exchanged looks with Vinnie, as Amal drew breath.

  ‘And they intend to open many more similar premises across the north west. Apparently, it’s getting harder in London as the authorities get to grips with the problem, so they seem to think; and notwithstanding your recent inroads, they believe this region is ripe.’

  ‘How did you manage to pick up all this?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘I played the submissive Asian female, I behaved as they expected. But there was a large gap under the door to my room and I put my ear to it whenever I heard talking in the other rooms. They nearly caught me — more than once.’

  Christine’s respect for this plucky woman was now off the scale. She could also feel her story taking off again. The wider public had a right to know the potential scale of this modern day horror, and the authorities needed press pressure to get a grip. But she kept quiet; she’d get her chance to talk with Amal on her own once the police had finished.

  ‘And I want to help you any way I can to catch these animals,’ Amal added.

  ‘You already are, Amal, considering what you have been through you are a remarkable witness, one that any jury would believe instantly,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘I mean any way proactively. Remember, I’m the only one who knows what they sound like.’

  Vinnie didn’t correct her concerning Susan Grady, for obvious reasons, but she had a point about Babik. Then, she added something fascinating. ‘And this Mr Boldo, wherever he is, is on his way to Preston.’

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  ‘Where is she now?’ Harry asked, as soon as Vinnie had closed their office door.

  ‘She’s still with Christine. They seem to have formed quite a bond,’ Vinnie replied.

  ‘Good, we can use that. It certainly seems that there can be no doubt about Grady’s culpability now.’

  ‘None,’ Vinnie agreed. ‘I’ve asked the intel unit to maintain an OP on her home address.’

  ‘What have you told them?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Just that there is a threat against her, and that she’s gone to ground. We’re not sure who she is still friendly with on the inside.’

  ‘We’ll have to come clean soon and circulate her as wanted.’

  Vinnie knew that Harry was right. If the OP didn’t spot her returning by close of play this evening, then they would have to treat her outwardly as a wanted person.

  ‘At least we know now about this other mill. Which is interesting, for more reasons than the obvious,’ Harry said.

  ‘Why’s that, Harry?’

  ‘I’ve just had a reply from HR, who have been doing a systems analysis dump from yesterday, and it appears that when Grady called in she searched the databases for “known brothels in Preston”.’

  Vinnie knew that, apart from confirming what Amal had told them, this was excellent evidence against Grady, proving her duplicity with Babik.

  ‘But what about this Boldo character?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Bad news and worse news, I am afraid,’ Vinnie replied.

  ‘I’ll have the bad first.’

  Vinnie told him that no one of that name was known overtly or covertly on any databases, either locally or nationally. Harry sighed, and then asked for the worse news.

  ‘His existence has just cost me £50.’ Vinnie then explained his bet with Christine and Harry burst out laughing. ‘Call it a fine for your earlier misdemeanours in front of the judge,’ he said.

  The fact that Harry was laughing about his earlier porkies was a good sign.

  ‘In fact, we should pay Sadiq a further visit — in prison, that is,’ Harry suggested. Vinnie nodded, and then his mobile phone started to ring, it was Christine. He answered it and noted
that she was talking in little more than a whisper.

  ‘You should sign me up as a special,’ she started.

  ‘Why are you whispering?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Just took Amal to the canteen and the TV news is on. Just popped into the corridor to ring you.’

  ‘Why, is the food that bad?’

  ‘Shut up, idiot. No, the press release about the motorway bridge murder has just gone out, with the deceased’s details and photo.’

  Vinnie knew that the body had now been positively identified by his wife and a prepared press appeal for witnesses was to be broadcast. But not why Christine was so excited. He asked her why.

  ‘Because I know who killed him!’ she answered.

  ‘Say again?’

  ‘It must be Babik, or on his orders.’

  ‘How do you reckon that?’

  ‘Because I recognise the victim. He’s the perv who accosted me down by the docks. The one I lost on his way to the second premises — obviously the new mill.’

  ‘You sure?’ Vinnie asked, without thinking. He knew that Christine wouldn’t make a mistake like this, it was just an involuntary comment born of incredulity. ‘Sorry,’ he quickly added, followed by, ‘of course you are.’

  ‘Oh, and there is something else,’ she said.

  Vinnie asked what, though he couldn’t imagine.

  ‘You owe me 50 quid,’ she said, before ending the call.

  ‘I know…’ he started to say in reply, but she was already gone.

  Vinnie quickly told Harry, who appeared delighted and shocked in equal measures. ‘It’s all coming together nicely. We will find this mill; and we’ll pull it all together.’

  ‘Let’s go and see Mohammed Sadiq before he gets shipped out of Preston prison. But first, get an all ports warning out for Boldo and Grady. Just in case he’s coming from afar, or she’s aiming to swap places with him.’

  *

  Babik had just finished sloshing petrol all around the terraced house where they had kept Amal Sadiq hostage. He had meant to do it earlier, after Sue dropped the woman off, but that was before Boldo rang again. The delay didn’t matter too much, as he was confident that the woman had no idea where she had been held. The delay was caused by Boldo announcing that he was indeed on his way to Preston. Babik had expected as much, but the confirmation had prompted him to pay the mill a quick visit, while he knew the manager was there, just to satisfy himself that all was well. He knew it was, but the last thing he needed was Boldo finding something to moan about.