‘You should think about asking her to stay here full-time,’ he had enthused to Joe the day before, after discovering the stains on the lavatory were not actually immovable as he had believed, although it had taken Doris the best part of two hours of scrubbing to prove it. ‘She’s improving the environment for all of us. She’s a great girl. She never stops. She’s been sorting through my wardrobe for me, mending holes in pockets, taking things to the launderette that have been nestling in dark corners for years.’
Angus too was in the kitchen, a mug of tea half raised to his lips as Annie explained exactly why ‘Maisie’s Amazing Maids’ had all been having their ‘beautiful new breasts’ stolen.
All eyes turned to Doris’ flat chest and she too looked down at it with her mouth hanging open.
‘I was carrying drugs in my tits?’ she asked, incredulously. ‘All that time?’
‘Apparently he’s a busy man, Mr Rose,’ Annie said. ‘Especially with all the flying back and forth to Manila and New York and Europe. He can’t always do the operations as soon as the girls get to their destinations. So they have to keep carrying the stuff around until he has a spare afternoon in his diary.’
‘Bloody brilliant!’ Cordelia exclaimed.
The tension was broken and they all laughed.
‘I’m amazed they packed you with cocaine and not heroin,’ Cordelia said as the laughter subsided. ‘Mostly that’s what’s been coming in from that part of the world. Coke normally comes in straight from South America.’
They all looked at her, shocked by her apparent knowledge of the subject. She blushed. ‘Just what I’ve heard.’
‘It does seem a long way round,’ Joe agreed. ‘But I guess with mules this effective,’ he gestured to Doris, ‘it’s worth going to a bit of extra trouble.’
‘So, when are you planning to see him again?’ Angus asked. ‘This Prince Charming.’
‘Piss off, Angus,’ Annie said. ‘He wants to see me again, when he gets back from New York in a couple of days.’
‘Do you know exactly when he’s due back?’ Cordelia asked.
‘As a matter of fact, I do.’ Annie produced the card Rose had given her. ‘He told me the flight number and everything. I think he’s hoping I’ll be at the airport waiting to meet him. The man is seriously in heat.’
‘Good work, sister,’ Cordelia said, scooping up the card as Joe’s phone rang. He moved away from the noise of the others to answer it.
‘Joe?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s Adele. Sunday International want to buy serialisation rights to the Doris book. Could you and Doris get down to meet the editor and their people today?’
‘Will you be there?’
‘Of course.’
‘The story has got a lot more interesting.’ He told her what he had just heard and for the first time since he met her, Adele was lost for words. ‘They may also be interested in the fact that Maisie, who runs this operation, is married to Mike Martin.’
‘Mike Martin? The government’s money-man?’
‘That’s the man. He has a very shady past indeed. In fact, he may be worth a book all of his own one day.’
‘Okay.’ Adele was obviously thinking on her feet, spotting a potential big killing on the horizon. ‘Bring Doris to the office and we’ll all go down to the meeting together. We can talk in the cab. This could be a very good deal.’
‘We’ll be there in an hour.’
He hung up and went back into the kitchen. ‘Okay, Doris. We’re on our way to the big time. We’re going to meet a newspaper editor who wants to buy the rights to the book. If we get this right you may be able to build your house next to your mother sooner than you think. You may even be able to put in a swimming pool.’
‘Which paper?’ Angus asked.
‘Sunday International,’ Joe said.
‘Good God,’ Angus slopped his tea over himself, and Doris dabbed at him with a drying-up cloth. ‘You’ll need to tart her up a bit. They’ll want glamour.’
‘We can do that,’ Annie jumped up. ‘Can’t we, Cordy?’
‘Yeah!’ Cordelia was up too. They each grabbed an arm and whisked the startled-looking Doris away to Annie’s room.
Half an hour later Doris emerged, as if from a magazine make-over. Joe was startled-by how pretty she was with a little make-up and the right clothes to show off her fragile little body.
‘You look wonderful,’ he said.
‘Thank you, American Joe,’ she gave him a radiant smile, obviously proud of the way she looked.
They took a taxi to Regent Street. All through the journey Joe explained, very carefully, what it was the newspaper would be looking for, and warned her to say nothing unless he or Adele said it was all right.
‘If you tell them anything before they have signed contracts, they’ll print your story and you’ll get no money at all,’ he said. ‘Let Adele take care of the business first and then we can start to answer their questions. Okay?’
‘You the boss, American Joe,’ she laughed and gave his hand an affectionate little squeeze.
On the trip from the agency to the newspaper offices, Joe filled Adele in on the details of the story so far.
‘Okay,’ Adele said as the taxi finally drew up. ‘Let’s go. Just remember we’re selling the rights to a major book here, not some scummy newspaper exposé. That way we will more than double the sort of money they’re willing to pay. Doris, you keep silent until we’ve got their signatures.’
‘Yes, Ma’am,’ Doris said, but Adele was already out of the cab and striding away. Joe and Doris ran to catch her up.
They were taken to a room where a group of executives in shirtsleeves were waiting for them. The editor introduced himself and they all sat down with coffee, orange juice and Danish pastries.
‘So,’ the editor said, ‘what have you got for us, Doris?’
‘At this stage,’ Adele interrupted, ‘I’ll do the talking. Doris is writing a book about her experiences as a white slave, ghost-written by Joe Tye here, a name I’m sure you’re all familiar with.’
The editor inclined his head slightly to concur that he had indeed heard of Joe.
‘I believe we have bought one or two of your previous books, Joe,’ he said.
Adele cut in again, determined not to allow the editor to trick either of her clients with charm. ‘Then you’ll know how reliable and professional he is. If this story wasn’t hot, Joe wouldn’t be on board.’
Joe tried hard not to smile as Adele moved her hype into top gear.
‘All you need to know at this stage is that this girl was white-slaved into Britain, along with dozens of others, from the Philippines. She was brought here by an agency which is owned by a woman called Maisie. Maisie’s partner in life is Mike Martin.’
She paused for effect. All the men around the conference table had sat up a little straighter. She now knew she had their full attention. She said nothing, waiting for their response.
‘We are very interested in any story that might lead towards Mr Martin,’ the editor admitted. ‘We have a pile of files on him. We know where he’s come from and we are just waiting for something big to pin on him. We already knew, by the way, that he’s married to a woman called Maisie. It happened on a beach in Phuket. We bought photographs of the ceremony, but haven’t had an opportunity to use them yet.’
‘This is the biggest thing imaginable,’ Adele said. ‘The white slave trading is only the tip. It involves the mutilation of young girls’ bodies and big-time drugs trafficking. It will blow your minds. And we can prove it all.’
‘Fire away,’ the editor said.
‘No. I must have a confidentiality agreement from you first, just in case you’re not able to meet our asking price and I have to go somewhere else.’
‘We could agree a price now,’ the editor suggested.
‘You’ll offer us more once you’ve heard the rest,’ Adele said. ‘I can guarantee that. Just sign this confidentiality agreement and
then I’ll tell you everything.’ She slid two sheets of paper across the table to him.
The editor picked up one sheet and passed the other to an in-house lawyer sitting beside him. They read them through, agonisingly slowly, and then exchanged looks. The lawyer mouthed something. The editor then nodded, and signed both copies before pushing them back across the table. Adele took one copy and gave the other to the lawyer.
‘These girls are being used as human parcels,’ she said. ‘To carry drugs around the world. In Manila they are told they can have breast enhancement operations for free, to make them more attractive to European and American men. To increase their chances of landing rich husbands.
‘A top British surgeon then flies out and does the operations. The girls are thrilled. What they don’t realise is that their breasts have been enlarged with bags of the highest-grade cocaine. When they arrive in England, America or mainland Europe, they’re found jobs as cheap domestic labour. Then they’re told they’ve developed lumps in their breasts and will have to have operations to remove them. The same surgeon opens them up, takes out the bags and sews them back up as quickly and crudely as possible.’
All the newspaper executives automatically glanced across at Doris’ chest. She kept her eyes on the floor.
‘And Martin’s wife is behind all this?’ the editor asked Joe.
‘She runs the traffic in girls. Whether she knows about the drugs is another matter,’ Joe said. ‘But I would imagine she does.’
‘There’s more,’ Adele said.
‘Go on,’ the editor told her.
‘Some of the girls have started to complain about the way they’re being treated by the people who employ them as servants – people in some of the finest families and homes in the land, incidentally. As a result they’ve started to disappear. It’s pretty certain they’re being killed. A torso has been found in a skip up north, a torso which had previously had its breasts crudely removed.’
‘Jesus,’ the editor said, and there was a collective sigh of astonishment and delight around the table. This was the sort of story that kept them all in the newspaper business – a story that would shock and titillate their readers, while at the same time ruffling the feathers of the establishment.
‘When will the manuscript be ready to see?’ the editor asked.
‘In a month,’ Adele said, ‘if we can agree terms today. The research has already been done. Joe has been to Manila and met Doris’ family and the people who introduced her to the massage parlour business. He’s met with Maisie, posing as a potential customer, and he’s interviewed Doris for days on end.’
Joe suppressed another smile. Adele was good at making a little sound like a lot.
‘How much are you asking for?’ the editor wanted to know.
‘Half a million. Half now and half on delivery.’
There was another collective sigh. Even Joe’s eyes flickered towards his agent for a second. Doris showed no emotion, keeping her gaze on the tips of her fingers, which lay peacefully in her lap.
‘I was thinking more along the hundred thousand line,’ the editor said, after a long pause.
‘No,’ Adele stood up.
‘But I could double it,’ he said, ‘as long as there were a few guarantees.’
‘Like what?’
‘I would want Joe to make contact with Mike Martin and ask him a few questions, using our phones here with a tape running. And I would also want Joe to show us the work in progress. Say, once a week.’
‘I wouldn’t be willing to go below four hundred thousand,’ Adele said, still standing.
The editor fell silent for a moment. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We couldn’t stretch to that.’
‘Okay,’ Adele bent to pick up her briefcase.
‘We could say a quarter of a million. Then we’ll sign the papers today, and give you the down-payment.’
‘Make it three hundred thousand on the same terms,’ Adele said.
The editor stared at her and everyone waited. ‘It’s a lot of money, Adele,’ he said, eventually.
‘It’s worth it, and you know it,’ Adele retorted.
‘Very well,’ the editor nodded and there was a hiss of escaping air as everyone stopped holding their breath. ‘We’ll pay three hundred thousand.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The kitchen in Earls Court had become a council of war. After dropping Adele back in Regent Street, Joe and Doris had returned home to try to take in everything that had happened. Joe had rung Rod and asked him to come over. Cordelia and Annie were both sitting at the table, painting their nails, and Angus had joined them, not wanting to be left out of any excitement that might be happening on his premises.
‘The point is,’ Joe said, ‘if the Sunday International is going to start stirring things up, the Martins are going to want to get rid of the evidence as quickly as possible. That means any girls who are in the country, and might incriminate them, are in even greater danger than they were before.’
‘They can’t just go around killing people wholesale,’ Annie protested. ‘This is England in the new millennium, not Chicago in the nineteen-twenties.’
The others all looked at her.
‘Am I being incredibly naïve?’ she asked.
‘What have they got to lose?’ Rod asked. ‘No one would miss a few Filipinos who are working in the country illegally. No offence, Doris.’
‘No, sure. No problem,’ Doris replied in rather a small voice.
‘Doris has the telephone numbers of quite a few of them,’ Joe said, turning to Doris. ‘If you told them how much danger they were in, would they believe you and come to a secure house?’
‘Some of them would,’ Doris said. ‘But some of them are too frightened of Max and of Maisie.’
‘There are also some new girls who came in on the same flight as me,’ Joe said. ‘I guess they’ll still be in Brighton, waiting for their operations or for employers to be found. We really need to get them all to somewhere safe.’
‘Where would we take them?’ Cordelia asked.
‘They can’t come here!’ Angus chipped in quickly. ‘I’d be in so much trouble with my lease if other residents saw hundreds of illegal immigrants trooping up in the lift.’
‘Oh shut up, Angus,’ Annie said. ‘There isn’t anyone in this block who hasn’t worked out that you’re sub-letting to half the world.’ She turned back to the others. ‘Don’t you think we should involve the police?’
‘No!’ Angus jumped back in. ‘We don’t want them sniffing around here.’
‘He’s right,’ Rod agreed. ‘The police wouldn’t know where to start. They’d trample all over everything and the Martins would get away scot-free. This needs to be sorted privately.’
Cordelia appeared to be relieved at this decision, although she said nothing.
‘So, where should we take the girls?’ Annie persisted.
‘The best place would be back to the flat in Gloucester Place,’ Rod suggested.
‘But they know about that,’ Cordelia said.
‘That’s why it’s good,’ Rod said. ‘They wouldn’t expect us to go back there after they trashed it.’
‘Unless we decide to let them know where we are,’ Cordelia said, a plan hatching in her head.
‘Lure them in, you mean?’ Rod asked, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of some action.
‘The apartment’s a big mess still,’ Cordelia warned. ‘Dad’s arranging for decorators and contract cleaners.’
‘We can clean it.’ Doris brightened up at the prospect of some serious housework to take her mind off the complicated web which had been spun around her.
‘Yeah,’ Joe said. ‘Tell your Dad not to worry, that you’ll organise the clean-up.’
‘Doris can call all the girls she knows,’ Rod said. ‘And she can tell them to call any others they know. But these new girls in Brighton will have to be fetched. Who’s going to do that?’
‘There are some ugly characters down there,’ Joe sa
id. ‘One in particular. I’d better go because I know the layout of the house.’
‘It’ll need more than one of us, then,’ Rod said. ‘I’ll drive you down there and lend a hand.’
‘I’ll come,’ Angus piped up. ‘I’ve always been very fond of Brighton.’
‘It won’t be a day at the seaside, mate,’ Rod said.
‘No, no, quite. Serious business,’ Angus blustered. ‘Quite understand. Still, very happy to do whatever I can.’
‘What if one of the girls Doris is calling spills the beans to her minders?’ Annie asked. ‘What if someone’s in the room with them when they take the call.’
‘Then we’ll be ready for them,’ Cordelia said. Everyone turned to her and it was obvious, from the look on her face, she meant what she said.
‘Maybe we should stay with you,’ Rod said.
‘Too right, mate,’ Cordelia grinned. ‘Don’t think you’re going anywhere till you’ve helped with the clearing up.’
‘Are you taking drugs?’ Maisie’s voice was shrill with suppressed anger. She hated having to deal with scum like Max. She hated the fact that, although she felt herself to be superior to them in every way, she still had to rely on the sheer brute force of their muscle to get things done.
Max grunted something non-committal back down the line. Maisie continued talking.
‘Listen to me,’ she said, speaking slowly. ‘There is a man getting too close. He calls himself John Weston, or he calls himself Joe Tye. He has been to the clinics in Manila and London. He may have been to others, I don’t know. He knows about the Montgomerys. He may know much more. It is time to clean up.’
‘Yeah,’ Max smiled happily at the prospect. ‘He’s been down here too. I owe him a beating.’
‘Dispose of all the girls you can find as quickly as possible,’ Maisie continued, ignoring the interruption. ‘We don’t want any evidence left behind.’
‘Some of them are still carrying,’ Max protested blearily. ‘We need Rose to unpack them. Where the fuck is Rose?’
‘Rose is on his way back from New York tonight. We can’t wait for him. You’ll have to operate on them yourself when you dispose of them.’
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