by Chris Simms
Suddenly, the thirty quid she’d just blown on a taxi seemed foolish. ‘Jumped in a cab.’
‘A cab? Why did you get a cab?’
‘How else was I going to get here? My car’s here, remember?’
‘You could have rung me. I’d have come and got you.’
‘I thought you were in bed. Asleep.’
‘Yeah, but I wouldn’t have minded you calling me. If you had something worth rushing in for …’ He looked at her again.
She could almost hear the thought striking the inside of his head. You’d decided to come in without me. And you were happy to pay for a cab to leave me out. She broke eye contact to adjust her mouse. Brilliant. Now I look like the sneaky one.
‘Why have you come in so early?’ He was staring at her now. His voice was guarded.
‘It was … I’d nodded off. You know when something pings into your head – I had one of them. It woke me up.’ She shrugged. ‘Probably nothing.’
He was still staring. ‘You want to tell me?’
She glanced at Sullivan’s office. You idiot, Iona. You got this completely wrong. And now it looks like you’re holding back on him. ‘Of course. You know the CCTV footage of Teah Rice as she goes off that bridge?’
He nodded.
‘The girl we spoke to in the Appleton House care home mentioned that Chloe Shilling had been approached by a woman in town. Do you recall?’
‘Vaguely.’
‘It was to do with the Club Soda place. This woman tipped them off about it.’
‘Are you sure? I thought Chloe Shilling had loads of schemes for money-making.’
‘She did, but Club Soda was the one the woman mentioned.’
He frowned, obviously not quite so convinced.
‘So,’ Iona pressed on. ‘It occurred to me: what if the woman Chloe mentioned is the same one talking to Teah Rice in the CCTV footage? Some of these gangs – sex traffickers – they use a woman to lure the girls in. She convinces them there’s nothing to worry about, that it’s all good fun, the blokes are fine … she lays the trap.’
Martin sat up. ‘This woman is approaching vulnerable girls, you mean? Selling them a story about making easy money in a nightclub? Something harmless – cocktail mixer, cloakroom attendant or whatever?’
‘Exactly.’
His head turned and he sent an appraising look in the direction of his boss’s empty office. ‘Could be …’
Iona craned her head. The only DCI in his office appeared to be Roebuck. ‘Where’s Sullivan?’
‘Up with O’Dowd. Helping him get his report ready. Apparently the Home Secretary contacted the chief directly. The Israelis want to know exactly what’s going on and we’ve been told to give them what we have.’
‘What? Everything?’
Martin nodded glumly. ‘Seems so.’
‘I thought we had until Monday morning before that happened,’ Iona murmured.
‘They moved the goalposts. The power of diplomatic pressure.’
Iona looked further to her left. Roebuck was in his office putting the phone down. We’ll have to take it to my boss, not yours. Her flicker of triumph was instantly swamped by a wavelet of disgust. Why, she asked herself, must you always keep scores? The bit of her that would never shut up immediately fired back a reply: because everyone else is. ‘What do you reckon, then? I thought we could try the children’s unit, see if they have anything on known female groomers.’
Martin tapped a finger. ‘I don’t know. It depends on if the woman is the link to this Club Soda thing … and from that, you’re making another connection to it being her in the Teah Rice footage. I thought that woman was a Good Samaritan.’
‘Check the footage. The way she walks off without even calling for an ambulance is really odd. I think the body language indicates that Teah knew her. The conversation wasn’t just, please don’t do it. Life can’t be that bad. It’s deeper. She talks to Teah for maybe half a minute, reasoning with her. Honestly—’
‘Did you two put a request in for an airport check? On Madison Fisher?’
Iona turned. Stuart Edwards was a couple of desks away, a sheet of paper in his hand.
‘We briefed the team who took over,’ she replied. ‘They would have done.’
‘Word from the Border Agency just came back.’
‘Only just? When did the request go in?’
‘After nine.’
She glanced at Martin; they sat on it for over an hour? That should have been one of the first things they did. Martin nodded back as he turned in his seat. ‘And?’
‘Departed Manchester this morning at seven fifteen.’
Iona felt the pulse in her neck quicken. ‘Where to?’
‘Turkish airways. A stop-over in Istanbul and then on to Beirut. Plane took off from Istanbul about half an hour ago.’
Iona shot a look at Martin. ‘Club Soda, it’s in Beirut.’ She leaned forward and keyed the words in to Google. ‘Here you go, Club Soda. An exclusive club for those with discerning tastes. Chartres Street, Beirut, Lebanon. We need to get word to Beirut airport – get her lifted the instant she comes off that plane.’
Martin came round the desks to look at the club’s homepage once more. ‘I don’t get this.’
She couldn’t understand his lack of urgency. ‘Come on – the place is tacky beyond belief. It’s a front.’
‘Oh, I agree the decor is hideous. But a couple of the boys have been doing background checks.’ He nodded to a pair of detectives working at the far end of the room. ‘It’s owned by an organisation with a string of places to their name. Casinos and hotels throughout the Middle East. A couple of holiday resorts. It all looks very above board.’
‘Maybe on the surface. Roebuck needs to know about this.’ As she started to stand, Stuart spoke again.
‘Hang on.’ He was still studying his print-out. ‘She isn’t en route to the Lebanon.’
Iona’s head jerked in his direction. ‘What’s that?’
‘She’s not on the flight. Says here that her onward ticket wasn’t processed.’
‘Was the flight delayed, or something?’
He shook his head. ‘She went through passport control in Istanbul over an hour ago.’
Iona sat down, her theory wobbling before her. ‘But she left the UK.’
Martin sighed. ‘Not with Chloe, though. Wasn’t it Chloe who mentioned Club Soda?’
Iona nodded slowly, the buzz of adrenalin fading. ‘Well … maybe they had to drive her there for some reason.’
‘You know, Iona – this Club Soda place seems pretty legit to me.’ He leaned past her to take control of the mouse. The arrow moved to a tab entitled Gallery and a new screen opened up. The row of thumbnails all had a label. ‘Launch of the Emerald Palm Holiday Resort. Fashion show for a label I’ve never heard of. The birthday of Sheikh Kazan-something’s daughter.’
Iona’s legs suddenly felt tired. She sat back down.
Martin continued. ‘It doesn’t fit with a sex ring dealing in troubled girls from British care homes. I mean, why? It looks like one of the country’s top venues.’
Iona pushed her hair back. ‘Unless the club is being used as a story and, really, it has absolutely no connection to all this. Maybe the girls think it’s where they’re going – but end up somewhere completely different.’ She searched Martin’s face for any kind of agreement.
He gave a sad kind of grimace. ‘Sorry, Iona. I’m struggling with this one. It would be good to know where the hell Madison Fisher is in Turkey, but Club Soda …’
I’m trying to make the facts fit my theory, Iona thought. Idiot! She’d been so sure she was on to something. A trail that would lead to the two missing girls. That’s what comes of not enough sleep – your judgement starts to go.
‘Everyone!’
She turned to see Roebuck standing in his office doorway. ‘Nirpal Haziq has just commenced talking.’
The few officers who were in all started turning to the whiteboard in one corn
er.
‘Two to half-two on Sunday afternoon,’ someone said. ‘Which lucky git picked that slot?’
THIRTY-FIVE
Smoke rose into the pale November sky. Nina watched through the window as Liam threw on more files and sheaves of paper. He waited until the flames had engulfed them, too, then dropped the laptop into the middle of the pyre.
The weight of it caused fragments of ash and paper to swarm up, the larger ones soon abandoned by the updraft. They floated down to gently settle on the lawn. The similarity to falling snow took her back to the mining town from all those years ago.
As she turned away, her phone went. Unknown number. Him. ‘Hello?’
‘Is everything ready?’
‘Almost.’
‘The laptop – its contents …’
She glanced back at the window. ‘Being burned right now. I can see the flames.’ Liam was burying the machine beneath another layer of office records.
‘And the female detective?’
‘She’s next. I’m making the call.’ Her eyes lowered to the floor, to where Chloe waited. She’d told the girl to pack. ‘As soon as the girl I have here’s safely in the car, I’ll ring the policewoman.’
‘You must be at the airfield at four o’clock. Not arriving at four o’clock: you must be there at four o’clock, ready to go. Is that clear?’
She’d never heard him sound like this before. He was nervous. She suddenly felt afraid. ‘I understand. We will be—’
‘You must be there. It’s … this is something …’
Now he was fumbling with his words. As if he was a schoolboy. She could hardly believe her ears.
‘I will explain to you …’ The reception faded, his words fragmenting into a disjointed buzz.
‘I cannot hear.’
‘Hello?’ His voice was clear once more. ‘I have made certain decisions. Ones that I now regret – but am unable to escape from. Zara. I am talking about Zara.’
Nina sagged against the worktop, felt the edge of it dig into her midriff. Zara: the name I gave to Jade Cummings. The girl who exploded at the checkpoint on the Israeli border. She closed her eyes.
‘They want … the people who I am doing business with, they want this other British girl. I agreed it would be possible. Do you understand me?’
Chloe, Nina thought. Chloe is to carry a bomb for them. ‘Yes.’
‘We must get the one you have out of Britain and to these people. Then my obligations are fulfilled. I can – we can – start again somewhere new. As we were before, my jewel. Supplying the clients we know.’
‘And the police detective? Where will she go?’
‘To someone who uses girls only for pleasure.’
‘The yacht?’
There was a pause. ‘You are too perceptive. Yes, the yacht. Both women, Nina: we need both of them. The people I have made arrangements with, they have other information. They told me the Israelis are there – in Britain. Mossad. There is a team of them there.’
She said nothing. They should never be in such danger. Why had he placed them in such a position? He had always been so good at business decisions. Now she was having to risk everything, sacrifice everything she’d worked so hard for. Her eyes alighted on the holdall stuffed with boxes of human hair. Madison’s was in there. A shade of yellow that delicate would get an excellent price. One day, she thought, I will build up my business again.
‘I will see you at four o’clock.’
She lifted her chin. He was coming! In person. She knew he would. ‘You will be there? You are on the plane?’
‘Of course.’
His voice had that faint, metallic buzz once more. He’s in the air, she realized. A satellite phone.
‘I will see you soon, OK?’
‘OK.’ She placed her mobile down as the back door opened and Liam stepped through. Dark specks were stuck in his short hair. His fingers were black. She was back again in the mining town of Vorkuta. The line of men she had to service. They didn’t even wash their hands before grabbing at her flesh. Filthy fingered animals.
‘What?’ He was looking at her with an uncomfortable expression.
She smiled. ‘Nothing. A memory, that’s all.’
‘It’s done. The fire.’
‘Yes, I saw. Thank you, Liam.’
‘So we get Chloe into your car. Then what’s next?’
‘There is one more thing before we can go.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I will ask for someone to come and see me.’
He looked nonplussed. ‘Who?’
‘Just a woman. Someone we’re taking with us. When she arrives, we need to subdue her. She must be with us on that plane.’ She reached into her pocket and took out the business card Iona Khan had handed over to Martin Everington.
Liam stepped over and peered down at it. His eyes widened. ‘Why are you ringing the fucking police?’
‘Because the woman we need works for them.’
He laughed shrilly. ‘That was a joke, yeah?’
‘No.’
‘We’re kidnapping a policewoman? Is that what you’re saying? Is it?’
She lowered the phone and stared at him contemptuously. ‘How else do we start another life? Tell me. Do we earn our money picking fruit, maybe? Apricots and plums? Is that how we pay for a place by the beach? Will that buy us through the border so we just disappear?’
He raised both hands and pressed all his fingers into his temples. ‘This is so, so fucked.’
‘This is the last thing we do in this country, Liam. The money I know I can get for this particular woman – and it must be this woman – buys us a new start. Do you understand?’
He threw his hands at her. ‘Fine. Let’s fucking do it. Ring her. What’s kidnapping a pig?’ His voice was now wobbling with laughter. ‘Add it to the queue of other stuff, do I give a shit?’
THIRTY-SIX
The tech room couldn’t hold more than six people, so Alan Goss had set up his equipment on the table in a ground-floor meeting room.
Iona tried to get a clear view of what was going on, but every time the officers before her shifted, her sliver-thin view was lost. She considered asking to stand in front of them but decided that would be the sort of thing a child would ask. Worse, they’d probably stand aside for her with some comment that included the word baby.
‘Right,’ Alan resumed. ‘We had this RAW file on the hard drive, if you recall. Completely unreadable – and no way of getting at it: not until Nirpal decided to tell us what would run it.’
Which he was happy to do, Iona thought, as soon as he got an inkling of exactly what he was being accused of. He’d gone very pale according to the officers observing the interview. He hadn’t killed anyone. He knew nothing about what Khaldoon Khan was up to. He’d never heard of a Liam Collins. He certainly didn’t know anything about a British national exploding at a checkpoint on the Israeli border.
‘So,’ Alan stated. ‘I take the hard drive out of the laptop, insert it in the hard drive dock.’
Nirpal was claiming he had fled from CityPads because he thought they were there about his credit card fraud. That’s all he’d done and the RAW file on the laptop would prove it.
Iona caught a fleeting glimpse of a black device with the letters, AKASA.
The IT guy had one hand lying on it as he spoke again. ‘Then it’s just a case of bringing in my old PlayStation from home and plugging that into the dock. Bingo, our RAW file reveals itself to be for a PlayStation. This tab?’ He pointed at a little monitor. ‘Nirpal’s mystery file. The names, addresses and log-in details of several thousand PlayStation customers he’d managed to hack.’
A gruff voice spoke up from the other side of the room. ‘Sneaky bastard.’
The shoulder blocking Iona’s view shook as the officer laughed.
‘Nothing else in there, as you can see,’ Alan added.
‘No profiles of girls?’ Iona asked, fighting the urge to stand on her tiptoes.
Assuming Goss was scrolling through the spreadsheet, she looked at Martin. ‘Then he’s just a scammer?’
He shrugged. ‘Khaldoon Khan needed funds for whatever he’s up to. They reckon Nirpal was providing them.’
Iona almost shook her head. It didn’t make sense. ‘Why would Khan steal – and then flog – his own money-man’s laptop?’ she whispered. ‘Leaving Nirpal the focus of a huge manhunt, as a result?’
Martin shrugged again.
Iona knew the loft space of Nirpal’s parents’ house had been searched. There were several boxed smart phones and tablet devices up there which the parents could not explain. They did admit, however, that Nirpal regularly went up there to retrieve items he had no room to store at his flat.
‘We need more on him than just a charge of credit card fraud,’ Roebuck said with a clap of his hands. ‘The guy is neck-deep in this. He’ll have a lock-up somewhere, a rented flat, a garage. We keep going at him. Khaldoon’s due at a high security police station in Islamabad within the hour. I have a strong suspicion things will get a lot clearer then. Back to work, everyone.’
Iona moved away from the press of bodies heading for the door. Martin hung back beside her.
‘You’re not happy,’ he murmured.
She watched her colleagues filing out. ‘Haziq has never felt right for the murders.’
Martin sighed. ‘Which is where Collins comes in.’
‘Maybe. But not as part of a team with Haziq.’
‘That’s the theory they’re running with. And we’re in the wrong room.’
She thought about the Gold Command they were setting up along the corridor. People from MI5 and MI6 working alongside most of Sullivan’s team, all focusing on Khaldoon Khan, Nirpal Haziq and Liam Collins as a terror cell.
They made their way out into the corridor. ‘There’s still Club Soda,’ Iona stated.
‘What about it?’ Martin replied despondently.
‘I still reckon there’s something in it. The woman on that bridge. I don’t know … it just seems odd, the whole encounter before Teah Rice jumped.’