No Way Out: an edge of your seat crime thriller

by DC Brockwell

  “This is just Rothstein’s file. There’s nothing on Beatrice Harrison; she’s never been in trouble with the police, never had her fingerprints taken, or even a swab taken. She’s clean, as far as I can see.”

  “Just because she’s not in the system, doesn’t mean she’s clean. Gebhardt’s brother assures me she’s running this thing for her father.”

  “I’m just telling you what I see on the PNC, Nas.”

  Nasreen sighed. “I know, I’m sorry, but I’m getting so close.”

  “You know what I’m going to say…”

  “Don’t say it! There’s no need, I’ll be careful.”

  Nasreen thanked her ex-partner and hung up, trying to think. There was so much more to this situation than she knew. When she thought back to Adams’ conversation in the stairwell, she started tying it all together in her mind. She couldn’t find the bow to top it all off. It was there though. She was missing a vital piece of information. Whatever it was, she knew she had to be careful.

  As cars whizzed past her, she switched her engine on and indicated right, moving out when it was clear.

  When she was up to speed with the rest of the cars and lorries, she thought about Danny, about her childhood growing up with him. She thought about how they’d bumped into each other when she’d returned from university for the summer holidays, and about how giddy she’d felt after their first kiss.

  And then she thought about how he’d been kidnapped and made to have sex with paying criminals. She was going to get him out of that bunker, no matter what. Despite what she’d been told, Nasreen knew he was still alive; it was a gut feeling she had, and she’d come to trust her intuition. She stepped on the accelerator…

  Assistant Commissioner Peter Franks awoke to the sound of his burner mobile, and looking over at his alarm clock he saw it was 07:02. It had taken him a long time to get to sleep but he’d eventually fallen into a deep slumber, so when the mobile shouted its shrill tone it startled him. He picked it up and answered.

  “Peter, it’s Graham,” said the soft voice. “Thought I’d let you know we have Garvey in custody. He’s being processed now.”

  “That’s great news. Hold on, let me get up.”

  Franks glanced briefly at his wife, still fast asleep next to him, then carefully pulled himself out of bed and put his slippers on. He took his dressing gown from the hook on the bedroom door, wrapped himself in it, and tiptoed onto the landing, closing the door behind him. “Sorry, Graham, I just had to find a quiet place. Go on. What about the others?”

  “The boat’s captain and the three others slipped past us.” The way he’d said “slipped past us” insinuated that there was no chase made.

  “Good, that’s exactly the way Rothstein planned it. When are you interviewing Garvey? I think I’ll come down and listen in, if that’s okay with you?”

  “Sure, that’s not a problem for me.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Hold off interviewing him until I get there; I want to see what he has to say. I should be there around eleven.”

  Franks hung up the call and then walked through to the bathroom across the hall from his bedroom, where he closed the door, stepped over to the toilet, pulled his pyjama bottoms down, and sat on the seat. He made a call.

  “Yeah, Peter, is it done?”

  “We have him in custody, Will, thought you’d like to know.”

  “Great news,” Rothstein replied. “Thanks for the heads up.”

  “He’s being processed as we speak. Once that’s taken care of, we can get on, yes?”

  “Absolutely. Set up the initial meeting and I’ll be ready to go when you need me.”

  Franks hung up, showered, brushed his teeth, and shaved in a record twenty minutes; he was excited to get going, now that the last hurdle to the project was about to be successfully navigated. All he needed to do was make sure Garvey was incarcerated and Rothstein would do what he had to do to make the problem go away.

  Garvey had been arrested with thirty-two kilos of white powder in his possession, so there was no question he’d be imprisoned, but Franks still wanted to be there to see how the interview went down; they couldn’t just arrest and charge the man without due process, so it was Garvey’s right to have an interview.

  If Garvey had information they could use for future arrests, they could offer him a deal, but Franks’ boss, the Home Secretary, and everyone else involved couldn’t have Garvey offering up Rothstein, so Franks wanted to be there to make sure that didn’t happen. It was a risk, because Garvey was integral to Rothstein’s current organisation, not his future one.

  It was a complicated web Franks was weaving. He knew what he was doing, knew which pieces needed to be where and when. He was the real mastermind behind the project, not the Commissioner and certainly not the Home Secretary.

  He dressed himself in his uniform – complete with hat and shiny shoes – kissed his wife goodbye and left the house. As he got in his prized Jaguar and drove away, excitement crept over him…

  Lennox paced back and forth in his windowless white-walled holding cell. He needed time to think everything through.

  He knew that Rothstein had set him up, but didn’t know why. It couldn’t be because Rothstein had found out about his extracurricular activities with Beattie; the boat trip had been planned way before he’d fucked Beattie. He also knew it couldn’t be about his work with Rothstein. The only reason he could think of was that Rothstein had decided to accept the Assistant Commissioner’s offer and therefore needed to get rid of him because his uncle wasn’t going to be the supplier anymore. It had to be that, had to be.

  After he’d been processed – including his fingerprints and picture being taken – the NCA officer had allowed Lennox to make one phone call, as per his rights. He’d phoned the number Rothstein had given him if this situation ever arose; his boss had told him that the number would always be answered, no matter the time of day, and he’d had the number in his wallet for the past ten years, never needing to use it, until now. He’d only used it to test Rothstein, and lo and behold, it had just rung out – no one had answered. That proved Rothstein was behind it.

  As his boss was behind his current predicament, Lennox knew he was in imminent danger. Rothstein couldn’t leave him alive; he knew far too much about his boss’s operation, about his day-to-day activities. He also knew that Rothstein had a network of lackeys inside; he’d be shanked as soon as he arrived in general population.

  His only way out of this mess was to secure a deal with the NCA, the police, or whoever else he needed to barter with. And on that subject, he needed to consider his options.

  What did he really have on Rothstein? He thought about the recording he had on his mobile of Rothstein meeting with the Assistant Commissioner. He had the Commissioner clearly conspiring with Rothstein to legalise drug use without the public’s knowledge. It was unethical, illegal, and if found out, it would be the single biggest scandal to hit the UK’s media in decades.

  He’d heard the Assistant Commissioner clearly talking about that, and he thought he could use it in the interview, but then he considered that, to his knowledge, the conspiracy hadn’t started yet. All he really had were two men talking about doing something illegal. Plus, the recording clearly showed Rothstein declining the offer. That was no use.

  What else did he have? He needed something strong enough to convict Rothstein, to put him inside for a long time. He needed… He had it!

  “Hello?” he shouted through the thick locked door, banging on it with his fist. “I’m ready to make a deal… hello…?”

  59

  Steven was sat beside his colleague, Howard Greene, and opposite Lennox Garvey, watching as the latter bit his nails. As his colleague had set the camcorder to start recording, Steven went through the motions, stating the date and time and who was present, and then asking Garvey to confirm his name and age. Garvey obliged.

  This was their third interview since bringing Garvey in earlier that
morning. The first interview had been a total bust; Garvey had said nothing but “no comment” throughout the entire forty-five-minute questioning. Steven had, however, noticed how jittery Garvey was – clearly, he was scared.

  The second interview hadn’t gone any better. The “no comments” had been mixed in with lots of “fuck you” and “go fuck yourself”. He’d asked Garvey to confirm his name and age, to which he’d answered truthfully, but as for the rest of the answers, they’d gained nothing of use. It was the way Steven had expected it to go. After all, Garvey wasn’t going to roll over on someone like William Rothstein, unless he had good reason.

  Five minutes earlier, Garvey had banged on his cell door, saying he was ready to talk, to make a deal, and Steven had felt excited when he’d opened the cell door and led him into the interview room. “You said you’re ready to make a deal?”

  “If you promise me immunity from prosecution, I’ll give you what I have.”

  Steven noticed how strong Garvey’s Jamaican accent was. He’d never actually heard him speak until the first interview, and he thought it was a cool accent. “Why don’t you tell us what you know, and we’ll tell you if we can.”

  “Don’t treat me like a prick, Officer Dyer,” he said, leaning in for effect. “You confirm I get immunity and I’ll serve you up Rothstein on a platter.”

  “Rothstein? We’re not after Rothstein,” said his colleague. “You’re the one we’re after. All we want to know is where you get your product from, Garvey. We caught you with thirty-two kilos of cocaine; you’re not going to get immunity from that.”

  “Yeah, on Rothstein’s orders. I’m a little spoke on a big wheel, and I know you want the heavy hitters.”

  “That’s bullshit! We know you’re the brains behind the drug trafficking; you’re partners with Rothstein. Tell us who your source is, and we’ll talk about a deal. And it won’t be immunity, I can tell you that much.”

  “Listen, Garvey, give us what you have, and I promise we’ll see what we can do for you.” Steven said, to which Garvey shook his head. “However, we all know that what you’re expecting isn’t going to happen. You can’t get immunity after being caught with that much coke.”

  “When you hear what I’ve got to say, you will give me immunity.”

  Garvey was messing with them. He was wasting their time for a reason Steven couldn’t fathom. He looked over at Howard Greene and the two of them stood up at the same time. “We’ll come back to this when you’re really ready to talk.”

  Steven reached the door and touched the handle.

  “The Harrison farm,” Garvey said, his voice raised. “I know what’s going on down there. I know you NCA guys were set up there taking photos, and I know you have no idea what Rothstein and his daughter are doing there. If you did, you’d have got a search warrant and raided the place weeks ago.”

  Steven stopped. Finally, there was someone who could tell him what he needed to know. He’d stumbled onto the farm himself, and he had to know.

  He turned to Garvey. “And you want immunity for telling us that the barn’s being used as a drug distribution centre?”

  “Good guess, but wrong. I’m not only offering to tell you what’s happening there; I’ll testify to it in court too.”

  Greene looked at him. They needed to get permission from higher up to deal with a suspect.

  “We’ll be back in a minute, we need to confer with our superiors.”

  “Don’t take too long, Officer Dyer – people’s lives are at stake. Twenty-four lives, to be exact. Tell your superiors that if you don’t deal with me, I’ve sent instructions to a friend of mine to inform the media of what’s going on down there. If he doesn’t hear from me at a certain time… and, well, that time’s near.”

  “We’ll be sure to inform them.”

  Peter Franks had been observing the interview on a PC monitor, and he watched as Officers Dyer and Greene left Garvey alone in the interview room. Franks was in a quandary: he was supposed to prevent Garvey talking about Rothstein, but having heard that lives were at stake, he wanted to know what Garvey had to say. He was pretty sure the Commissioner would want to know too. He waited for Steven and Greene to enter the room.

  The two officers entered and stood in front of him and Holmes.

  “We’re finally getting somewhere with him now,” Franks said.

  “Do you believe him, sir?” Greene asked Holmes.

  “I don’t know… it sounds like the rantings of a desperate man to me.”

  “I’m not so sure. I think we should hear him out.” Franks made his feelings known.

  “He’s not going to say a word until he has a deal.”

  “Agreed,” Franks said. “Tell him he has a deal, if the information is accurate and we get to apprehend William Rothstein.”

  “Peter, you can’t make that kind of decision,” said Holmes. “Dyer, Greene, leave us for a moment, will you?”

  Franks waited for the two NCA officers to leave the room.

  “Peter, what are you doing? Have you forgotten what we have planned? We need Rothstein. And don’t tell my officers what to do either. I’m their boss, not you.”

  “Oh, do shut up, Graham, and don’t forget who put you here. You didn’t get to where you are now on merit. And we don’t need Rothstein; we have other options available to us.” Franks sighed. “I hate having to deal with that prick. If what he’s got going on at his daughter’s farm is as bad as Garvey says it is, we’re not missing the opportunity to put this scumbag behind bars. Get them back in here and tell them to make a deal with Garvey. Go on!”

  He watched as Holmes walked to the door, his proverbial tail between his legs, and let the two officers back in. He hoped he was making the right decision, hoped the Commissioner would see his way of thinking. Rothstein wasn’t the be all and end all of the project – they had other importers they could use…

  “Okay, Garvey, we’ve been given the authority to grant you a deal.” Steven passed an A4 piece of paper over the table then watched as Garvey picked it up and read it.

  “So, what’s so important it merits an immunity deal?”

  Steven glanced over at Greene. He was trying to make out he was nonchalant about what Garvey had to say. He was excited inside, really excited. “Let’s have it then.”

  Garvey nodded, taking a deep breath before starting his explanation. “For sixteen years, Rothstein’s been abducting male and female prostitutes from up and down the UK and forcing them to work for him at the farm. Underneath the barn – the one you were so interested in – there’s an old World War Two bunker. Rothstein’s renovated it into a kind of exclusive club. It has twenty-five rooms, twenty of which are used for the prostitutes and five are torture rooms. It has a bar inside and a lounge area. It’s also got a huge furnace, which Rothstein rents out for disposal purposes, if you know what I mean.”

  Steven couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So, right now, there are twenty prostitutes held captive under that barn, is that what you’re telling us?” He was about ready to leap up and run out of the door to his car. This was massive, and he had to be part of the raid team on this one.

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you, except it’s more than twenty. There’s five support workers there too. They’re foreign, and they’re being used as glorified cleaners and helpers. They help the prostitutes get ready for their customers… if you understand what I’m saying when I say help?”

  Holy shit! Steven thought. When his team had speculated about what they thought was going on in the barn, they’d never have guessed this. “And how have they managed to get away with this for so long?”

  “Because they’re not stupid; they kidnap the prostitutes from all over the country, never from the same place twice. You police guys don’t talk much between forces, do you? Rothstein knows this. He knows it’s easy to get away with it, if you kidnap one from down south, the next one from up north, and the one after that from the Midlands.”

  “So,
if there’s twenty sex workers there now, how long have they been there?”

  “It all differs. Some make it about five years before they wear themselves out, others aren’t fortunate enough to live that long…”

  “Live that long? You mean they’re killed if they’re not useful anymore?”

  “Fuck yeah; that’s what the furnace is used for…”

  Steven tried not to imagine the furnace Garvey kept speaking of. “So, if the longest they live for is five years – or thereabouts – how many do you think have been in that bunker over the last sixteen years?”

  “I call it the blood bunker, if that gives you a clue. It’s hard to say, but it’s easily over sixty.”

  Steven sat back in his seat, reeling from the information Garvey had given them. Those poor bastards, he thought, kidnapped and forced to have sex until they couldn’t anymore, and the best they could expect after was to be incinerated. “And you’re willing to testify to all of this, are you, Garvey?”

  “If it’s part of my deal, I will. But it gets worse. Beattie – sorry, Beatrice – auctions them off when she can’t get them to work anymore.”

  Steven was starting to feel a little sick. “What do you mean by that?”

  Lennox explained the situation.

  Steven looked over at Greene, who was speechless, then back at Garvey. “We’ll be right back. Do not move!”

  60

  Nasreen slowed down, looking for a turning on the left – she couldn’t see one; all she could see was what could only be described as a dirt track. It was about big enough for a car, although she didn’t want to risk it with a rental – she didn’t want to have any more problems to deal with on top of everything else that was going on. It was the only kind of road in the area though, so it had to be the place. Gebhardt hadn’t warned her of the narrow lane. Then again, why would he?