She wasn't sure which outcome would scare her the most.
She took the two mugs through to the living room, handed one to Cooper and sat in the armchair opposite him, sipping her own. She couldn't think of anything to say, so she sat there as he studied her, waiting for him to make the first move.
"Is that brick dust in your hair? Been on a building site?" he asked, not unkindly. His accent was hard to place. He didn't have the Southern glottal stop or the rounded vowels of the North. He spoke precisely, his words chosen with care and delivered in RP, as if maybe he'd attended a posh school as a boy but had then had the edges knocked off his cut glass vowels by years living below his station.
Kate didn't reply, but she gripped her mug with tight, white knuckles.
"And you've got mould or something very like it smeared down the arm of your sweater." He cocked his head to one side and bit his lip thoughtfully. "Underground then. Maybe a railway arch or a cellar. Somewhere old, wet and crumbly, that's for sure. You smell a bit dampy, if you don't mind me saying."
Still Kate did not say a thing, unsure where he was going with this.
"Could you lead me there, or did they blindfold you?" he asked.
The question was so bluntly put that Kate answered it almost in spite of herself. It seemed he already knew everything anyway.
"Blindfold," she said, her mouth dry. She took another sip of tea.
He nodded. This was the answer he'd been expecting. He considered her carefully for a moment and seemed to come to a decision.
"You are in very deep shit, Miss Booker. These are bad, bad men your brother's got himself, and now you, involved with. I take it you know the basics of their operation?"
Kate nodded once. She thought her face must be as white as a ghost's.
"Then you know that they eat people like you up for breakfast. You'll work for them as long as you are useful, but the first time you make a mistake, or they get suspicious of you in any way, or they just decide that they want someone fresh for their evening's entertainment, you will disappear as completely as if you had never existed."
"Why..." Her mouth was dry again. She took another sip of tea. "Why don't you just arrest them then? Isn't that your job?"
"It's not that simple. This gang doesn't exist in isolation. There's a chain stretching right across Europe. This is a huge operation, involving the police of twelve countries, many of which have police forces that see bribes as a normal part of their pay packet. Plus..." He hesitated.
"Plus?"
"Plus, there's someone in our own force looking out for them. I think. Perhaps. I can't prove it." He looked up at her, momentarily suspicious, as if asking himself why he was telling her all this.
"That's why I've approached you like this, at home. Anyway," he continued. "Recently we had a bit of setback. Our... channel of information dried up."
"Nate, yeah? The doctor?"
Cooper looked shocked, as if he'd been caught out. Then he nodded, a little surprised she'd put a name to their mole so easily. "Loathsome little junkie, but easy to manipulate."
"Oh. I see. You want me to take his place."
Cooper sat back in his chair. "Where did they take you just now? What did you see?"
"Nothing useful. An old underground cellar. Damp, as you say. I could hear tube trains and, I think, a river nearby. But that could be anywhere in London, couldn't it?"
Cooper nodded thoughtfully. "And what did you do there?"
"Listen, my brother..."
"We know all about your brother."
"They told me they'd kill him, if I came to the police."
"Most likely. You too."
"Then what the fuck is with turning up at my front door? If anyone sees you... I mean, what kind of fucking amateur are you?"
Cooper smiled. Kate did not think it was particularly reassuring. "Spider doesn't have the resources to do keep you under surveillance. He relies on your fear you keep you in line. You were tailed when you went shopping yesterday, and they had someone in A&E two nights ago pretending to have food poisoning so they could see you at work, but they don't watch you all the time. By now they're becoming confident that you haven't gone to the police. And if you haven't gone yet, chances are you won't."
Kate sat there and suddenly felt ashamed and embarrassed. "I would have," she said. "Eventually, I would have. I've thought about it."
"But your brother."
"He's not the hardest of men. He's weak and stupid and his own worst enemy. But he's my best friend. I've had to look after him his whole life, get him out of trouble, keep him from being bullied. Jesus, the amount of times at school I had to fight his battles for him. I suppose I should have known that something like this was inevitable."
"We can keep him safe."
"Not your job, Mr Cooper. It's mine."
Cooper leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands together and holding her gaze firmly. "If you help us, Kate, you have my word no harm will come to him."
Although this figure of authority was asking for her help, Kate felt as helpless as she ever had. If she agreed to inform for the police, she'd be placing herself and her brother in terrible danger. But if she said no... she thought of that poor girl in the cellar. Where was she now? Dolled up and drugged up, washed and brushed up and delivered to some hotel room for the pleasure of a banker or drug dealer who'd use her and then hand her back to her captors, dead or alive.
She stared deep into Cooper's eyes, seeking reassurance. He smiled at her, and she felt her resistance crumble.
"Okay, okay. What do I have to do?"
They didn't call on her for another two weeks. But this time she did not allow herself to pretend that life was normal.
At Cooper's urging, Kate signed up for self defence classes. Each day after work she would spend an hour in a draughty scout hut in Camden learning how to turn an opponent's weight against them, learning simple blocks and combos designed to prevent her from coming to harm and allow her time to run.
They didn't teach her how to collapse a windpipe with a single punch, or how to twist a neck and break it, or the places on the body where the lightest blow could cause the most damage. She was a doctor; that stuff she already knew. But knowing and doing are two different things and she knew she lacked the control to throw those kind of punches. Still, she trained and practiced and worked out. The face of the girl from the cellar hovered in front of her as she pounded the treadmill and worked the punchbag.
She would look at herself in the mirror before bed and laugh humourlessly. Who did think she was, Rocky? She was a not very tall young woman, slight and delicate. All the training in the world wouldn't enable her to inflict so much as a single bruise on the giant. But nonetheless, she trained and practiced and focused.
If any of those bastards tried to make her the main attraction rather than the attending doctor, she'd let them know what a big mistake they'd made.
Then, one Sunday night as she sat vacantly watching some telly programme that passed through her eyeballs and out the back of her head without touching the sides, there was a knock at her yet-again rebuilt door.
Kate took a moment to slow her heartbeat and take a few deep breaths. She told herself she was in control as she rose and grabbed the bag she had left by the door especially for this occasion. One more deep breath and then she opened the door.
Her brother stood there with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates.
"Hey, Kit," he said, bashful at disturbing her.
"Oh James, not tonight, eh. I've got an early shift tomorrow."
He shuffled his feet. "Sorry, Sis. I've got no choice."
Suddenly Kate realised that, despite appearances, this was not a social call. "Right. I'll get my coat." She turned away but he put his hand on her arm.
"We don't have to be there for an hour or so. That's why..." He held up the bottle of wine.
Kate sighed, stepped back and ushered him inside. "You know where the glasses are," she told him as she closed the door and p
ut the bag back in its place.
He made small talk at first. "How's the hospital... you met a new bloke yet... going to get another flat mate?" That kind of thing. Kate indulged him until he finally ran out things to say. At this point he'd normally reach into his seemingly endless collection of anecdotes and start telling dodgy stories about this or that night on the town and the disreputable character he'd hooked up with. It was only when the silence fell that Kate realised she'd not seen James hold court like this for months.
"I'm not much of a sister, am I?" she said.
"What?"
"I should have noticed something was wrong. I should have asked about it."
"Don't be daft. You've been up to your ears with training."
"Still." The silence that fell then seemed like it would swallow them whole, and they stared into their wine glasses.
"James, how does this end for us?"
He looked up and his face said it all.
"Why haven't you gone to the police?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Too scared. Why haven't you?"
"Don't tell him," Cooper had told her two weeks earlier. "No matter what. I know he's your brother and all, but from what I can gather he doesn't seem the kind who could keep a secret."
Kate gave James a look that said 'why do you think?' and he nodded. "Right," he said.
"I have an idea, though," she said. "Something we can do to help ourselves."
"Hit me."
"I've considered it."
She got up, grabbed a notepad and pen from the kitchen counter, and sat down again. "I want you to tell me everything, and I mean absolutely everything that you know about their operation. Dates, times, locations, personnel. Everything."
He looked wary. "For why?"
"Insurance."
"Oh, Sis, that's not..."
"Do you trust me?"
"With my life."
"Then spill."
So he did, until eventually he checked his watch and told her it was time to go.
It was a cold, clear night, cloudless and silent.
The yard was lit by sodium lights mounted high on the posts that marked out the limits of the chain link fence. Huge containers were piled high in blocks, forming a kind of maze. The fleet of articulated lorries that ferried them across Europe and beyond were lined up near the entrance, seeming naked and unwieldy without their cargo. The pungent stink of rotting vegetables and the cry of hungry seagulls betrayed the presence of a tip nearby.
Two portacabins, one on top of the other, sat at the heart of the maze. Their lights were on and Kate could see movement inside as she and James walked towards them.
James didn't knock, he pushed the door open and they stepped into a fug of warm, damp, gas-heater air that smelled of stale coffee and cigarettes.
The giant was sitting on a tatty old armchair which seemed comically small for him. His knees were up around his ears. A group of four crowded around him, sipping coffee from plastic cups and smoking. They were talking and joking in what Kate assumed was Serbian.
Kate was relieved that Spider wasn't present, even though she'd known he wouldn't be. Cooper had told her he normally ran things from Manchester.
The giant unfolded himself and rose as the siblings entered. The men fell silent, watching them with eyes that betrayed only the barest smidgin of interest. Each of them glanced briefly at James and then shifted his attention to Kate, sizing her up and finding her either adequate or wanting, depending upon their taste. One of them smiled at her, revealing crooked yellow teeth. She ignored him.
"You have the medicine?" asked the giant.
Kate held up her bag. He seemed content. He handed James a clipboard and a large manila envelope. Her brother took it without question.
"Come on," he said to Kate, and led her back outside to a set of stairs that led up to the portacabin above. A young man stood outside the door, on guard. He unlocked the door as they ascended and ushered them inside. Kate heard the door lock again once they were in.
The small room held eight women and girls. All were sitting on the floor, crowded around a gas heater, warming their hands. They wore simple, functional clothes and had obviously not washed in days. There was a pungent smell of BO.
"Hello ladies," said James, smiling. Kate was disturbed at how easily he slipped into this role. She wondered how many times he had done this before. "If I can please have your passports and travel documents."
One of the women, the oldest of the bunch, maybe twenty or so, Kate thought, translated James' request to the other, and they each reached into their pockets and produced their passports. Kate thought the meekness with which they did this spoke volumes. These girls were scared. They hadn't admitted it to themselves yet, but they knew, deep down, that something had gone wrong, that they had been fooled, that something awful was about to happen to them.
James collected the passports and visas cheerfully, placing them in the manila envelope. He turned to Kate as he did so. "Best get on with it, Kit," he said.
Kate crouched down and opened her bag. Inside were the syringe needles and ampoules that she had stolen from the hospital. Vitamin shots, wide spectrum antibiotics and, as ordered, mild sedatives. She told the girls to rollup their sleeves. Again the oldest one translated.
"What is that?" she asked.
"Nothing to worry about," Kate lied, feeling a tiny part of her die as she did so. "Just vitamins and stuff. Something to give you a boost. You've had a long trip in that lorry."
The woman was suspicious but there had been that faint air of resignation to her question which betrayed her powerlessness. Kate gave each of the trafficked women a shot.
While she did this James got each woman to stand up as he examined them, scanned a list of outstanding requirements on the clipboard, and decided which of the various distribution points they would be transferred to. The skinny one with the blonde hair was pretty enough for the high rollers, so she'd go to London. The three chubby ones were disposable but functional, they could go to Manchester. There was a special request for a young girl for extraordinary duties. James picked out the redhead, who couldn't have been more than sixteen, for this role.
Kate felt sick as she watched him do this.
James tried to present a cheery front as he consigned these women to their various fates. He knew what he was doing; choosing which ones would be raped, which would be murdered, which would vanish into the cellars, and which in the penthouses. But he didn't want them to know what was going on, so he smiled and joked, even though he knew most of them didn't understand what he was saying.
When the allocation was complete, and the injections had all been administered, James told them it was time for sleep because they would be collected early in the morning. He turned off the light as he left them to snuggle together for warmth on the floor, sunder ragged duvets.
Kate and he went back downstairs, handed the clipboard to the giant, and waited as he studied it. Eventually, he nodded.
"Good," he said. Then he allocated each of them four men a girl or two to transport. James was also given an assignment, driving to Manchester. Kate was dismissed.
The men left and went up the stairs to collect their by now unconscious cargo. James hung back, drinking coffee with the giant.
"I thought you were driving one of them?" she asked.
James stared at his feet, unable to meet her gaze.
"I am," he said. "But they'll... they'll be a while."
The giant laughed. "This is not real man. Not like girls." He laughed again, as if this was the funniest thing in the whole wide world.
Kate wanted to grind broken glass into his face.
"Can I go?" she asked.
The giant nodded. "Get more medicine. More girls next week," he said, and he waved her aside, dismissing her.
Kate stepped out into the night and walked steadily and carefully until she turned a corner and was out of sight. Then she placed her hands on her knees, bent double, and vomited until
there was nothing left to come up.
She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, stood upright, and walked out of the yard in search of a taxi.
"You really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble," said Cooper, with his mouth full. Kate laughed.
"If my Gran knew I was playing host to a Detective Inspector and not feeding him, she'd have a heart attack. She feeds everyone who ever knocks on her door. Doctor, postman, Jehovah's Witness, she doesn't care. Even if I call her and say I'm stopping by after dinner at a fancy restaurant she opens the door and says 'ooh love, you're looking a little peaky, I've done your favourite, corned beef pie!' And she'll sit there and watch me eat it, no matter how full of Sunday lunch or curry I am."
"And you've inherited her compulsion?"
"It what we do oop North, DI Cooper. Just because you Southerners think hospitality begins and ends with a twist of lime in a G and T, doesn't mean we're so stingy."
"Well this pasta is great, thank you. I'm not sure what my boss would say. He might accuse me of taking bribes."
"It's not that good."
"I'm a copper, Miss Booker..."
"Kate, please."
"I live on pies, chips and coffee, Kate. You may not believe me, but I used to be lean and toned. It's only since I joined the force that I've got so flabby."
Kate didn't think he was flabby. Fancies himself, she thought again, but not unkindly. Fishing for compliments.
"What did you do before?"
"I was in the army."
"Really? I wouldn't have pegged you as the soldier type. What were you, admin or engineer?"
Cooper hesitated. "Not exactly."
"Man of mystery, huh."
"Something like that."
He finished his bowl of pasta and swilled it down with a gulp of lager. Kate collected their crockery and put the kettle on. Cooper browsed her bookcases while she made coffee. Once he'd taken it, he sat down, the informal air almost, but not entirely, banished. She sat opposite him.
"You gave the girls the injections?" he asked.
Kate nodded.
"How many?"
"Eight. Three for Manchester, two each for London and Birmingham, one for Cardiff."
Children's Crusade Page 12