1911021494

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  ‘And what makes you think you’re giving the orders now?’

  ‘Because all this,’ Blossom waved at the TV, ‘means you’re incapable of doing anything that isn’t totally stupid. Sulk about it if you like, but none of you seem to have a sensible thought in your heads. We’re not in some crappy backwoods country where the cops take months to get moving, then turn up as a couple of cretins in uniform who can be bribed into turning a blind eye. I suppose that’s what Barbu thinks. Fuck it all, Ricky, they’ll have people a lot cleverer than you or me involved now. So for fuck’s sake get moving. We’ll shift everything and everyone across to Charlie’s empty depot in Poole.’

  * * *

  This time the move was completed rapidly and without mishaps. A lot of the stuff brought from Brookway was still in bags and boxes. Blossom had phoned Charlie and told him what they were doing and why. Charlie sounded hesitant and Blossom wondered if the gang leader was out of his depth. Things had moved too fast for him. Maybe it was the medication he was on, but he’d failed to keep on top of things. Everything started to go wrong after Hazel died, thought Blossom. He knew Charlie had taken her death badly, but hadn’t realised quite how much. Ever since then Charlie had let Ricky take the lead.

  Blossom stood still, struck by a sudden thought. Maybe Charlie wasn’t ill. Was it drugs? It fitted. He’d probably been out of his head, along with Ricky, when the girls had died. Christ. What had gone on? So Charlie was as crazy as his nephew. God knows, he, Blossom, wasn’t exactly an angel but he had some limits. Did Charlie and Ricky realise how much they’d changed over the years? They wouldn’t have killed young girls or sliced the throats of lads like that Stefan when they’d started out all those years ago. Sure, violence had been a part of all their lives. But it had always been necessary violence, only what was needed to get a job done. And he, Blossom, had been the main provider. He had done the mopping up of leakages and the tidying up of any loose ends. And he’d never gone further than he’d had to. But now? God knows what road they were on.

  As far as he could tell, that lad had been murdered in front of all the girls. In front of six fucking witnesses, for Christ’s sake. Girls who were intended for the streets, who might end up talking to the cops at some point. Ricky said it would frighten them into silence. Silence my arse.

  Blossom heard a noise behind him. Ricky and Barbu had walked into the loading bay from the office corridor. Blossom didn’t trust that Barbu at all. He had the eyes of a snake.

  ‘Okay, Blossom?’ asked Ricky. ‘How long do you reckon we’re safe here?’

  ‘Shift those girls on as soon as you can, Ricky. Make sure they end up a long way away from this area. Do you know anyone up north who’s looking for girls? Manchester, or Liverpool?’

  ‘No contacts that far away. It’s either move them out quick to our normal customers, or keep them here longer while we find new people. Do you know any?’

  ‘I’ll think about it. Maybe Charlie’ll have some ideas. Is he coming over?’

  ‘Not till later. We all need some sleep.’

  Blossom felt uneasy. ‘We need a guard on those girls, Ricky. We ought to take shifts. I’ll do the first one. And let’s leave the girls be for a while.’

  ‘You giving orders again?’

  ‘No, I’m not, Ricky. Just making some sensible suggestions.’

  Ricky Frimwell ran a hand through his thinning hair. ‘Okay. Barbu and I’ll get some kip. Wake me up when it gets light.’

  ‘It’s January, Ricky. It doesn’t get light until nearly eight. We all need some sleep, and that includes me. I’ll wake you at six. That gives you almost four hours.’

  He turned aside, pretending to be busy. He felt angry and betrayed by Ricky. All crap and no cooperation. When the two men left the loading bay he rested his head against the door of the van. This was all going nowhere. Did Ricky have a sensible thought in that selfish head of his? After a few minutes he settled into a chair in the small office. The girls were in a large storeroom next to it, bedded down on a line of mattresses. Blossom had found them some old sleeping bags. He found himself hoping they were comfortable and wondered if he was getting soft. Maybe he was getting old. He punched the cushion in a vain attempt to get comfortable, and settled back to think things through.

  Chapter 8: Help Us

  Saturday, Week 1

  Marsh looked more cheerful as he drove Sophie and Nadia from Wareham to Dorset county police HQ. After the meal the previous evening, his mood had lightened. As she’d said, being with her family was just what he’d needed. Matt Silver had arrived mid-evening and the three detectives had discussed the discovery of the bodies, and how this affected the case.

  Marsh waited in the reception area with Nadia while Sophie met with the chief constable and his deputy.

  The meeting was short and Sophie grumbled to Marsh as they made their way to Swanage. ‘I know these meetings have to be done, but it’s always one-way traffic. I tell them what’s happened and what our plans are and they ask a few questions. Then I might get a promise of some extra resources. That’s the way of the world, I suppose. Don’t quote me will you, Barry? At least they’ve been handling the contacts with the National Crime Agency and the Romanian authorities.’

  Mary Porter had arrived for their third session. Reluctantly, Sophie was beginning to warm to her. She had done everything asked of her without complaint, and Sophie was beginning to feel as if she were part of the team. An official from the Romanian embassy was due to arrive from London later that morning to interview Nadia, and the girl was understandably nervous. Sophie promised that she and Doctor Porter would be present at the interview. The embassy had assisted Nadia’s mother to fly across from Romania. She was due to arrive in the next couple of days, and this cheered the young woman considerably.

  Sophie still regretted having to cut short her family’s visit to her grandparents. It had been a hard decision to make. She was aching to see the elderly couple again and make up for all the lost years.

  The embassy official arrived, along with DCS Neil Dunnett, Matt Silver’s boss. He’d kept well away from Sophie since the end of the Donna Goodenough case, so she was surprised to see him. All she’d been told was that someone senior from HQ would bring the official down to Swanage. She led them along to Tom King’s office.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ Dunnett asked quietly, once they had sat down in the office. ‘You were very quick to get us out of the incident room. I thought he might be interested to see progress.’

  ‘It’s a live investigation, sir. The gang is still out there. We don’t know how far their tentacles spread and who their contacts are inside Romania or even here in the UK. We don’t know whether these girls are coming in without papers, or whether someone is supplying them with false papers. We don’t know whether the gang bringing them in is working entirely by itself or whether it has someone on the inside giving them a helping hand. As far as I’m concerned we tell their embassy officials only what they need to know, and that doesn’t include the details of our suspects. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment I’ll collect Nadia and our interpreter.’

  ‘Do we need one? He speaks very good English.’

  ‘No doubt. But Nadia doesn’t, so he’ll probably talk to her in Romanian. I want to know everything that’s said. I also want to ensure he only asks her questions relevant to the embassy’s needs. I need Mary in here to check that he does just that, and to translate his questions for our benefit.’

  She turned to the official.

  ‘Mr Dodrescu, as you are aware, I am the senior investigating officer on this case. At the moment the young woman, Nadia Ripanu, is our only witness. We are now investigating three probable murders, so she is of the utmost importance to us because of the information she has. You may ask her questions about her welfare, about her family, about her treatment by us since we found her but you may not ask her questions about anything to do with the investigation. I’d like you to arrange for a visit from a senior pol
ice officer from your country to liaise with us over the case, since part of the gang operates within Romania. Is all of that acceptable to you?’

  The official looked puzzled and stroked his nose as he talked. ‘But the chief superintendent didn’t tell me any of this. I understood I could ask her anything. I do have her best interests at heart.’

  ‘I’m sure you have, but are you a trained police officer, sir?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘As I said, I will happily talk about the details of the case to a fellow detective from your country. In fact we need to do so, in order to carry out investigations in Romania. But that is not your role, so please stick to the areas I have explained.’

  ‘I see from the press that two bodies have been found. Are these likely to be Romanian women?’

  ‘The forensic service has only had time to carry out some cursory checks. Full post-mortem examinations will start on Monday, so we won’t know until midweek. They’ll be looking at dental work and anything that might give us an idea of who they are and where they come from. Tissue has already been sent off for DNA analysis, and we should get those results back in a day or two. I’m assuming that the bodies are those of young women from Eastern Europe but I’m not releasing that to the press until we are sure. That information is just between ourselves, Mr Dodrescu. Please don’t mention it to anyone. Is there anything else you wish to know before I collect Nadia?’

  He shook his head and Dunnett nodded. Sophie went to collect the two women. Her words might possibly have generated some friction, but she was the one in operational charge. They would play by her rules or not at all.

  She returned with Nadia and Mary Porter. Dunnett sat at Tom Rose’s desk, which suited Sophie. The rest of them would be grouped around a low table. Sophie placed Nadia opposite Dodrescu, with Mary Porter on one side and herself on the other. Seated at the desk, Dunnett was a mere spectator. Sophie wondered if the ACC had told him to stay out of her hair.

  ‘How have you found your medical care?’ Dodrescu asked.

  ‘It has been beyond what I expected. I was kept in overnight on Wednesday, and I have seen the doctor for an examination at the hospital every day. He tells me that I am healing well. I have a special cream for my injuries and tablets to help me sleep. I have no complaints. Everyone has been so good to me.’

  ‘And your accommodation? Where are you staying and is it satisfactory?’

  ‘I am in safe police care. My room is lovely and I have made a good friend. Someone is with me at all times. I feel safe.’

  ‘Can you give me the names of the other young women who were with you, Nadia?’

  The girl looked at Sophie.

  ‘The list of names is already with your embassy’s undersecretary for police matters, Mr Dodrescu. Surely you have it?’ Sophie said.

  ‘Yes, you are right. I do. I wondered if Nadia had remembered anything different about them,’ said Dodrescu.

  ‘We should not be testing Nadia, Mr Dodrescu. We are here merely to satisfy the embassy that Nadia is being well looked after. Don’t translate that, Mary. If you’d like to continue?’

  ‘Have you been well treated by the police?’

  ‘Yes. They have been very kind. The chief inspector has been so thoughtful. I could not have asked for better treatment. I just worry about the other girls who came with me.’

  ‘We are doing everything in our power to find them, Nadia. Trust me,’ said Sophie.

  Dodrescu asked a few more rather pointless questions to satisfy the bureaucratic needs of interstate cooperation. He declared himself satisfied with the care that Nadia was getting. He told Sophie that he would be back in two days’ time with Nadia’s mother. He and Dunnett left the office.

  ‘I can’t wait to see her,’ Nadia said. ‘But I won’t know what to say to her. How can I tell her what happened to me? I am so ashamed.’ She started crying.

  Dunnett popped his head around the door.

  ‘What are your immediate plans?’ he asked Sophie.

  ‘We’re narrowing down the list of places they could have moved to, by contacting agencies that rent out old farmhouses. We should get the list down to a couple by later today, then we’ll visit them. We’re also ploughing through photofits, trying to identify the men that were at the abandoned farm. We’ve contacted most of the CID departments across the south and asked them to look out for Romanian girls on the streets. We might be able to get more information by speaking to some of them.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll be on my way.’

  He looked at Nadia’s tear-streaked face and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘She’s worried about telling her mother the full story of her ordeal. Maybe you could skip the details until she sees her. I may need a session with her using our interpreter so that I can explain the situation calmly.’ She turned to Mary Porter. ‘Can you come in again on Monday, Mary? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I have no choice if Nadia’s mother is coming then.’

  ‘Yes, I can manage that. But later in the week may be more difficult. I have a series of seminars and lectures to give from Tuesday onwards. I’ll only be able to spare a few hours here and there.’

  ‘That’s fine. Monday should be the last of the big sessions. And I’m so grateful for what you’ve done. Neil, we owe Doctor Porter an enormous vote of thanks. She’s been just perfect. I thought you’d like to know.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll be off. See you tomorrow.’ He disappeared.

  Sophie turned back. Mary Porter was smiling at her, blushing slightly.

  ‘It’s time I said it, Mary. I’ve changed my mind about you. For what it’s worth, this mere DCI holds you in high esteem.’

  She held out her hand. Porter took it, then leaned forward and gave Sophie a quick peck on the cheek.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You’re a very lucky person, you mere DCI. You inspire such loyalty in the people who come into contact with you. Though luck is probably the wrong word to use. Whatever you’ve got, I’m glad I’ve been exposed to it.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’d better be off. What time do you want me on Monday?’

  ‘I’ll let you know but I doubt it will be before late morning. Have a good rest tomorrow, Mary. You’ve earned it.’

  Sophie took Nadia to the hospital for her daily check-up, and then drove her back to her house for lunch with Martin and Jade. Nadia remained there while Sophie returned to the incident room in Swanage in order to clear up a backlog of paperwork.

  Later that afternoon she was sitting in her office, trying to gather her thoughts, when Barry Marsh hurried in.

  ‘We’ve traced two possible locations, ma’am. Both are small farmhouses close to the shore, in similar settings to Brookway, but further north. Both have been rented out in the past week or two as holiday lets, the first for a month with an option to stay longer, the second for a fortnight.’

  ‘Good work. We’ll pay them a visit, but not without backup and a watertight plan. That includes having the marine section out in the harbour to watch for any escape attempt by boat, and a firearms unit nearby. I’ll warn HQ. Get us some coffee, Barry, while I’m on the phone. Then we’ll sit down and produce a plan. We’ll go to the one with the longer letting first.’

  * * *

  Everything was in place. The first farm was to be visited at eight in the evening. Sophie, Marsh and Melsom drove along the farm track, followed by an armed unit and a backup team. Both remained out of sight as Melsom drove into the small yard and stopped, with the car facing the front door of the farmhouse. Sophie and Marsh climbed out, leaving Melsom in the car. They wore bulletproof jackets under their coats. A uniformed officer from the backup squad came with them. There was a single vehicle parked in the yard — a blue Range Rover with a small trailer alongside it. The three officers took a good look around before walking to the door. Sophie spoke into her radio and waited until she was sure that the squad members were in their agreed positions. She rang the doorbell. Footsteps approached along a wooden floor. The man who a
nswered the door was middle-aged with greying, sandy hair.

  ‘Yes?’

  Sophie held up her warrant card. ‘Sorry to bother you, sir. I’m DCI Sophie Allen from Dorset police. I wonder if you’ve seen any unusual activity in the area over the past few days.’

  ‘Nothing out of the ordinary, no. What kind of activity do you mean?’

  ‘Boat movements close to the shore of the harbour. Unexpected vehicles using the approach track. That type of thing. How many of you are staying here?’

  ‘Myself, my wife, our daughter and her family. Four adults and three children. And as I said, there’s been nothing unusual.’

  ‘May we come in, sir? It would be very helpful if we could have a quick look around.’

  He stepped aside, looking rather puzzled. Marsh spoke into his radio and followed Sophie into the house. The uniformed man waited outside. They followed the tenant down a short hallway and through a doorway into a large farmhouse kitchen. A small group of adults and children were seated around the central table playing a board game.

  He introduced the two detectives.

  ‘Two police officers, everyone.’ He turned to Sophie. ‘This is my wife, Janet, my daughter Karen, her husband, Peter, and their two older children, Amelia and Rachel. Their little brother, Lawrence, is asleep upstairs. I’m Kenneth Jackson.’

  ‘Cluedo, I see,’ said Sophie. ‘So we haven’t got here in time to prevent the murder, then?’ She smiled at the two girls.

  ‘I know who did it,’ replied the younger one, solemnly. ‘But that’s all. I don’t know where. Can you help me?’

  ‘That would be against the rules. I’d probably get told off by my chief constable if I gave you any clues.’

  The girls giggled.

  ‘How long have you been here?’ Sophie asked, turning back to Jackson.

  ‘Just since the weekend.’