Edging by the beds, gun in hand, carefully avoiding the viscera, she rounded the corner at the end of the room.
‘Boyd!’ she yelled. ‘Quick. Here.’
He joined her. Lottie put out an arm to hold him back. They stared.
She said, ‘McNally?’
Slumped on the floor, knees to his chest, sat Jamie McNally. Black hair streamed greasily around his neck. Face covered in blood spatter, he waved a scalpel through the air.
‘Get the fuck away from me, bitch,’ he snarled.
Lottie leaned in as far as she deemed safe. ‘Where is my daughter? What did you do with her, you piece of shit? Tell me. Now!’
‘Who?’
‘Chloe.’
‘Her? I didn’t touch that little bitch.’
‘I know you texted her. You asked her to bring Milot to you.’
‘Is that the little shit’s name?’ He laughed. ‘I’d a cat once called that. Gutted the little fucker, I did.’
‘Like you did to Russell?’
‘I didn’t do that,’ he snickered. ‘For a detective, you’re mighty stupid, woman.’
With one hand holding her gun, Lottie dug her nails into the palm of the other. She wanted to lash out and shove the weapon down McNally’s throat and pull the trigger. But she remained outwardly calm. Professional.
‘Where are they? Are they safe? That’s all I want to know. That my daughter is safe.’
‘I don’t know where she went. Freaked the hell out when I brought her in here. Fatjon freaked her a bit too.’
‘Fatjon?’ Lottie looked round at Boyd.
‘Russell and O’Hara’s right-hand man. Big dude with a mouth full of crooked teeth. Bastard attacked me after he’d gutted Russell.’
Nice and slow. Unemotional. ‘Where is Fatjon now?’ Dear God, she prayed, don’t let him have Chloe.
‘You don’t give up, do you?’ MacNally pulled at his chin with the hand holding the scalpel. Nicked himself. Smiled crookedly. ‘I’d been watching your house, and when there was no sign of Carter coming out with the boy, I knew your kids had probably called the guards. I couldn’t tell O’Hara I’d fucked up, and my last chance to get the boy for him was through your daughter.’
‘I still don’t understand why O’Hara wanted Milot,’ Lottie muttered.
McNally was still talking. ‘When O’Hara didn’t show up, Fatjon started on Dan the Man. Time is of the essence, O’Hara always said when he was slicing and dicing, according to Fatjon.’ McNally whimpered. ‘He handed me a scalpel. I couldn’t do it. He said he couldn’t waste a good set of kidneys.’
‘So this Fatjon killed Russell,’ Lottie said. Keep cool. I want to rip his heart out.
‘He got the kidneys out and put them in one of those icebox things. Locked it up to wait for the good doctor, but when he didn’t turn up, Fatjon got other ideas.’
‘Like what?’
‘Beat me up, took the product and left.’
‘Where did he go with the… product?’
‘Dublin. Flies them out on a private jet to Greece or Italy. Wherever the highest bidder is.’
‘I think you should come with us now,’ Boyd said, his voice even and calmer than Lottie’s. ‘You don’t need that scalpel any more.’ He reached over and swiped the knife from McNally. Twisting the criminal’s arm behind him, he hauled him to his feet and slammed him up against the wall. ‘You’re the scum of the earth. You know that?’
‘Your wife’s a good ride. Do you know that?’ McNally laughed.
‘Shut your filthy mouth.’ Boyd cracked McNally’s face into the wall.
‘Stop, Boyd. Stop.’ Lottie dragged him off.
McNally fell to the floor, blood spurting from his broken nose. He curled up like a baby, hands clasping his head, shielding himself.
‘Coward.’ Boyd kicked him.
‘Wait, Boyd. Look.’ Lottie bent down and picked up a piece of material that McNally had been sitting on.
‘Maeve Phillips’s blue dress. What are you doing with it?’
‘An incentive. To butter her up.’
‘But you took it from her house. Why?’
‘Thought you lot might track it back to me.’
‘Why did Tracy even let you into her house?’
‘You’d better talk to Tracy, hadn’t you?’
Lottie looked at him quizzically. ‘What do you mean?’
McNally shook his head. ‘You didn’t figure that out, smart-arse detective.’
She noticed his arms then. Long, thin cuts. Knife cuts.
‘I figured out that you’re Lipjan,’ she said, flatly.
‘O’Hara’s idea. He gave me the name. I had to show solidarity with the little wimps. That’s what Tracy said. She wanted to fuck over her husband for money. She’d sell her soul to the devil, that one, never mind her own daughter.’
Lottie and Boyd exchanged glances.
McNally laughed. ‘Ah, you had no idea, did you? Maeve was telling her drunk mother all about her cutting. Looking for attention. Told her all about your precious daughter too. And—’
‘Boss, come quickly. I’ve found them. Chloe and Milot.’ Lynch’s voice cut through the room.
Lottie froze. Blue silk shivering in her hand.
‘Alive?’ she whispered.
‘Yes,’ shouted Lynch. ‘Both of them.’
Lottie felt her knees give way, and as she sank with relief, Boyd caught her before she fell.
EIGHTY-FOUR
‘I’m okay. Let me go.’ Lottie twisted away from Boyd and ran. Slipping and sliding on the wet floor. ‘Arrest that McNally bastard. Cuff him.’
She followed Lynch back up the corridor, now lit with the fluorescent tubes hanging on chains from the high ceiling. Down the sloped floor she’d noticed earlier. Through a low, narrow passageway and into a room.
Chairs upside down on tables. Beds piled high on top of each other along the walls. Boxes and crates. A line of cupboards along the furthest wall. And sitting on the floor, Chloe with Milot asleep on her chest.
Blue eyes. Adam’s eyes. She smiled sadly. ‘Hi, Mam. Sorry about the fuss.’
‘I’m going to kill you,’ Lottie cried as she flung herself to the floor and folded her daughter into her arms. ‘Are you hurt? Did he do anything to you? Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine and so is Milot. We got a bit scared.’
‘Don’t you ever do anything like this again. You hear?’
‘I hear.’
Lynch hovered over them. ‘I’ve called an ambulance. Be here in a few minutes.’
‘I don’t need to go to hospital.’ Chloe looked up into Lottie’s eyes. ‘I want to go home.’
‘You’ll have to be checked over by a doctor. Milot too.’
‘I saved him, Mam, I saved Milot. I tried to fix it. I like to fix things, but I’m sorry if I messed up. I’m—’
‘It’s okay, darling. You did what you thought was right.’ But Lottie knew Chloe had run head-first into the arms of death rather than away from it. What mattered now was that both of them were alive and physically unharmed. She didn’t want to think of the hard journey ahead for Chloe. Not now. Not yet. And what would happen to Milot? Too many questions for the middle of the night.
‘Time to go,’ Kirby said. ‘Ambulance is here.’ He whispered in Lottie’s ear. ‘And so is the Super.’
‘For feck’s sake,’ Lottie said.
KOSOVO, 2010
He lived with the image of his mother and sister. With the image of the bloody scene of their murder. But he had never tried to avenge their deaths.
He remembered the day he woke from whatever the mad doctor, Gjon Jashari, and his son, Gjergi, had done to him. He wrecked everything in the clinic. Movable and immovable objects. With his bare hands he tore it down. He found his clothes, dressed himself and walked out the door. Alone.
In his pocket he had his soldier friend’s badge. He didn’t know how long had passed, but he supposed the soldier had gone home to his family.
He spoke to her, and they became friends and eventually lovers.
He loved her more than anything he could imagine loving. She was his world. He worked even harder after he rescued her from the brothel. She was the light at the end of every tough day.
Then one day: ‘I’m home,’ he said, walking into their apartment.
It was empty. He checked everywhere.
He ran to the stairs. Taking three steps at a time, he ran down the four flights and out the front door.
‘Have you seen her?’ he shouted at the girls on the outside step.
‘Your little concubine?’
‘Run away, has she?’
Ignoring an invective of abuse, he ran to the street. Cars honked and swerved. Frantically, he looked all around. Where could she have gone?
Rounding the corner, he ran into a darkened alley. Shadows emerged at the end and he sped towards them. So intent on finding her, he forgot his street-wariness.
The first blow knocked him straight to the ground. The next caught him on the side of the head. A heavy boot into his face followed. He saw the sheen of a slim blade slashing towards him.
Before he blacked out, he heard them say, ‘She is gone. Shipped away to make big money. Don’t give evidence at the trial.’
He didn’t know how long he lay there. Groaning, he pulled himself upright and leaned against the wall. The stillness of the night clawed at his heart; even the traffic seemed to have evaporated. He tracked back along the way he had run.
He dragged himself up the four flights of stairs. His door was swinging open.
The emptiness crawled from the corners of the room and settled into the chambers of his heart.
He would not be used again.
He would give evidence.
And then he would find her.
DAY NINE
TUESDAY 19 MAY 2015
EIGHTY-FIVE
After briefing Superintendent Corrigan, and once Chloe and Milot had been checked over at the hospital, Lottie drove to her mother’s house. She laid Milot beside a sleeping Katie in her own old bed. Sean was asleep on the floor wrapped in a duvet. Chloe had gone straight to the spare room and was asleep in seconds.
‘I’ll be back later, Mam,’ Lottie said. ‘I’m leaving the detectives on guard for the night until everything is resolved.’
‘Lottie, I need to talk to you.’ Her mother stood in the hall, blocking her exit.
‘Can’t it wait?’
‘It’s about Katie. She had a chat with me tonight. Told me she hasn’t been well these last few months.’
‘I noticed,’ Lottie said. ‘She’s grieving for Jason.’
‘It’s more than that.’ Rose pulled her dressing gown across her chest.
‘I’ll bring her to the doctor. Get her checked over.’ Lottie fiddled anxiously with her keys.
‘She’s already been to the doctor.’
‘What?’ Lottie stared at her mother.
‘Katie is pregnant. It’s Jason’s. She’s over four months gone and was afraid to tell you. She—’
‘Oh God. No,’ Lottie cried, dropping her keys. She bent to pick them up and her mother took her elbow and pulled her close.
‘She asked me to tell you. You go and do your job now. I’ll watch over your children and you and Katie can have a long chat tomorrow. Okay?’
‘I… I… Okay. I’m going. I can’t deal with this right now.’
‘And you need to sleep,’ Rose said.
‘I will, when all this is over. Thanks for looking after my children and Milot. I don’t know what I would do without you.’ Lottie leaned over and kissed Rose’s forehead. Rose reached out to hug her daughter, but Lottie was already out the door.
* * *
They banged on the door of 251 Mellow Grove. And banged again. A light shone out from the hallway but the rest of the place was shrouded in darkness.
‘Try again,’ Lottie said, and walked back to the car, where two uniforms and Kirby stood sentry. ‘The enforcer, please,’ she said.
Boyd lugged the battering ram to the door.
‘Mrs Phillips? Tracy? If you don’t answer, we will have to break the door down.’
‘I’m coming. For fuck’s sake, what’s all the racket about?’
‘Ah, at last,’ Lottie said. ‘Can we come in? Why aren’t you at the hospital watching over your daughter?’
‘I rang to check on her. She’s unconscious. Not much use to her there, so I stayed home.’
‘Couldn’t leave your drink?’ Lottie leaned against the door frame as Kirby took the battering ram back to the car. Boyd looked like he was going to fall over where he stood. But Lottie was suddenly filled with adrenalin and wanted to smash her fist into Tracy Phillips’s drunken face.
‘No need to be like that now. Thanks for finding her. Can I go back to bed now?’
‘Get your coat. I’d like to ask you a few questions. Down at the station.’
‘Fuck off, you long lank of misery,’ Tracy spat.
Catching her by the shoulder, Lottie wrenched Tracy’s arm up her back.
‘Tracy Phillips, I’m arresting you on suspicion of kidnapping. You don’t have to say anything—’
‘Fuck off, bitch,’ Tracy yelled. ‘What are you talking about? Let me go.’
Lottie finished her spiel and Boyd handcuffed the woman. As he led her to the car, Lottie looked on and shook her head. Kirby opened the door and they pushed Tracy into the back seat.
The car sped off and Boyd joined Lottie as she closed the front door of the house.
‘How did she come up with that scheme?’ he asked.
‘Saw an opportunity to make her husband pay up for the years of “hardship” she’d suffered.’
‘I still don’t get how she did it.’
‘We’ll ask her in the morning.’ Lottie walked down the path, a cone of yellow from the street light leading the way.
‘It is the morning,’ Boyd said.
‘In the real morning, after we get a few hours’ sleep. Got a fag?’
* * *
Refusing Rose’s offer of her bed, Lottie lay down on the couch and fell into a fitful sleep of nightmares until she was awoken with a bowl of porridge and a mug of coffee, and her mother’s sad face. Neither said anything about Katie’s pregnancy.
Refreshed but exhausted after only three hours’ rest, Lottie escaped to work. Reaching her desk, she roused the computer from sleep mode. The email from the Kosovo prosecutor, Besim Mehmedi, was open, waiting. She read it.
‘You look like death warmed up this morning,’ Boyd said, placing a Diet Coke on her desk.
‘No coffee?’
‘You’re lucky to get that. Lucky I’m here at all.’
‘Why’s that?’ Lottie stretched into the back of her chair, only half listening to Boyd. Her mind was in overload, having read the contents of the email. She was desperately trying to keep busy, to concentrate on work. Then she wouldn’t have to think of her pregnant daughter.
Boyd said, ‘I’ve just brought McNally back. The doctors released him to my care an hour ago. My care? I wanted to smash the bastard’s face under my shoe. And jump up and down on it until—’
‘Enough. I get the picture. Where is he now?’
‘Cell Two. Beside your friend.’
‘Petrovci? Shit, Boyd, he needs to be released.’
‘And you reached that conclusion how?’
Lottie stood up and beckoned for him to sit. ‘Read that.’
Boyd sat down and looked at the screen. ‘Who is Gjergi Jashari?’
‘The son of a doctor called Gjon Jashari. Infamous illegal organ harvester and tr
afficker in Kosovo. Ran a clinic in Pristina. A front for his butchery. During and after the war. Look at the attached photograph.’
She tapped the mouse and waited for the penny to drop. When it did, Boyd shot up out of the chair.
‘George O’Hara? He’s this Gjergi character. I don’t get it.’
‘Use your brain.’ Lottie opened the can and drank.
‘Tell me. My head is too tired to think,’ Boyd said, rolling up his shirtsleeves to his elbows.
Lottie sat on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs at the ankle. ‘Gjergi Jashari was a qualified surgeon, like his father. From that email it is clear that Andri Petrovci was one of those who, as a child, had a kidney taken from him. What happened in the years up to the trial I don’t know. But Petrovci was the state’s key witness against Jashari senior – probably the only living witness – and then the old man keeled over and died the day the trial was due to begin.’
Boyd said, ‘But what brought the doctor’s son to Ragmullin?’
‘I believe Dan Russell was in cahoots with old man Jashari in the years after the war in Kosovo. Bastard tried to blacken Adam’s name with his own dastardly deeds.’ She cringed at the thought of what Russell had been implying. ‘When Russell took over the direct provision centre, Gjergi, who was probably in contact with Russell down through the years, saw an opportunity to continue his father’s work. I’m sure he will confirm all this when he recovers from Mimoza’s bullet.’
‘I can’t see a man like Russell agreeing to be involved in that carry-on again.’
‘There’s millions of dollars available on the black market for anything you can sell. So it was either money or fear. Maybe Gjergi threatened him with exposure for what he’d previously done in Kosovo. Or he was just a greedy bastard. Got his comeuppance either way. Can George O’Hara talk yet?’
‘He’s in intensive care, last I heard. But explain to me again how Frank Phillips is linked to all this?
‘Superintendent Corrigan tells me the Spanish police have Phillips cooperating with them. Phillips supplied girls, initially for the sex trade, and then for organ harvesting. Trafficked some of them via Melilla through Malaga. Others he moved overland from the Balkans and Eastern Europe. When the girls arrived, Russell mingled them in with genuine asylum seekers. A great cover.’
The Stolen Girls Page 34