by Helen Fields
‘Yes. I think,’ Elenuta replied. ‘Who is he?’
‘His name was Malcolm Reilly,’ Ava said. ‘And I need to know anything, absolutely anything you can tell me, that might help me find where he was taken in France after he was pulled out of the container.’
Elenuta put a gentle hand on the paramedic’s arm, pausing his work as she considered it.
‘Finlay in charge, but one other man there from Scotland.’
‘Would you recognise him again?’ Ava asked.
‘He is here. Tonight. One of guards.’
Lively stared at Ava.
‘Let’s hope he’s still alive then,’ he muttered. ‘Tripp! Over here. Get every guard lined up here now, before anyone gets taken to the station for processing.’
‘But they’ve all been charged now. They’ve got to be given access to lawyers. If we break with procedure—’
Lively walked up, put one firm hand on Tripp’s shoulder and looked hard into his eyes.
‘Son, you’re a good policeman and I like working with you, but if you don’t understand by now that there’s a time and place to say fuck proper procedure, then I’m not sure you and I can continue working together.’
Tripp didn’t miss a beat.
‘Got you,’ he said.
Five minutes later a line of men stood grumbling before them, two being held up by a combination of paramedics and uniformed officers. Elenuta didn’t need to climb out of the back of the ambulance.
‘Third from right,’ she said. ‘Spiky hair. Nose ring.’
‘Get rid of the rest of them,’ Ava ordered. ‘You. Back of that police van, right now. Lively, Tripp, you can join us. Everyone else stays clear.’
No one argued as they climbed into the van and she slammed the doors shut. Spiky hair was pushed down firmly onto a seat, hands double-cuffed behind his back, Lively’s guiding hand on the back of his neck. Ava seated herself so she could look him directly in the eyes.
‘One chance,’ she said, slowly and loudly. ‘You get one fucking chance. If you don’t tell me everything – absolutely every bloody detail – not only will I refuse to explain to the judge that you assisted the investigation. I will appear at court and make it very clear that you put additional lives in jeopardy and that you withheld details that led to the torture and potential deaths of other innocent victims. And that you attempted to assault me inside this van.’
‘But … I …’
‘I only just stopped you in time. If I hadn’t grabbed your arm, you’d have broken the boss’s nose, easy,’ Lively said. ‘Attempting to assault a police officer on top of everything else. Boy, are you in the crap.’
‘And I think I heard you say you were going to kill the DCI here,’ Tripp added. ‘Making a threat to kill carries one hell of a sentence.’
‘Wankers,’ Spiky muttered.
‘Good,’ Ava said, frowning at Tripp. He was more like Lively than she’d realised. ‘Now, somewhere in France you and a few others opened up a cargo container with a box inside. You took out a young Scottish man and put several women inside to ship them to Edinburgh. I want to know about the boy. Where did he go? Who took him? Who organised it? Who got paid? What was he needed for?’
Spiky was sweating. That was a good enough start for Ava. He knew something.
‘I don’t know much,’ he mumbled. ‘I just did what Finlay told me to do. There was a woman who delivered the boy to us. He was out of it, like he was pissed but not. He was still walking, just about. I don’t know her name, but a couple of the other blokes do. I’ll tell you who they are.’
‘The woman had long hair. She was pretty and thin?’ Ava asked.
‘Aye, that’s her. We put him in the container at the docks. Then we travelled to France for when the ship was due to arrive, to do the handover.’
‘Where?’ Lively said.
‘Some car park, like a gravel area, at the side of a big road on the way to Paris.’
Ava nodded. That much he’d got right.
‘And from there?’ she asked.
‘He was put into the boot of a car. They were taking him towards Paris. I don’t have an address.’
‘You must know more than that,’ Ava said.
‘I fuckin’ don’t,’ he moaned.
‘Lively, hit me in the face,’ Ava said. She stood up. Even Lively looked a bit uncomfortable. ‘On your feet, Sergeant.’
‘She’s got a screw loose, that one,’ Spiky said in Tripp’s direction as Lively got ready to throw the punch. ‘You wouldn’t.’
‘He’ll obey my orders,’ Ava said. ‘And if I tell him to punch me, he’s going to punch me. And you’re going to get charged with it.’
‘Don’t you punch her,’ Spiky yelled.
‘Get on with it,’ Ava told Lively. ‘Right now.’
‘Shit, give me a minute, would you? I can’t think,’ Spiky blabbered.
‘Better hurry up,’ Ava said.
‘Finlay said something about a closed-down factory. The lad was wanted for some sort of medical thing, like he had a special blood type or something.’
‘He was transported in a container ship against his will and you fell for the special-blood-type story?’ Lively asked.
‘Hey, I didn’t ask questions. You asked Finlay questions and you got your fucking head blown off. Did you not see what happened to Gene Oldman?’
‘This was all Finlay’s deal?’ Ava asked.
‘Aye, he had a contact in France who agreed to split the shipping cost with him. Finlay was a bastard but he always knew how to save money.’
‘Who else did you move out of Scotland and hand over in France?’ Tripp asked quietly.
There was a moment of silence, before Spiky visibly wilted.
‘Another lad, and a girl. I felt bad for her. She was pretty, you know? A proper Edinburgh girl.’
‘Not this European trash you’ve been pimping out against their will, then?’ Lively snarled. ‘I suppose you think there’s a difference. Anyone who doesn’t speak your language deserves to be treated like shit.’
‘Describe her,’ Ava intervened.
‘Tall, thin, good-looking. Bit messed up by the time we got her off at the other end.’
‘Did you hear her name?’
‘We weren’t supposed to ask names. It was against the rules.’
‘Weren’t supposed to, or didn’t?’ Ava asked. ‘There’s a difference.’
‘She told me her name while I was getting her out. Asked me to contact her parents. Skye. I didn’t catch her surname.’
‘Right. You’re going to be charged with an ungodly amount of offences now, and taken to the police station where a lawyer will be provided to you if you don’t have one. But before you go, let me just assure you that if you stop assisting us at this stage, I will make it my mission in life to get you the longest sentence permitted by law, then I’ll spread a rumour around whatever prison you end up in that you’re a rat. I want every single fact, every address, every name, every fucking detail you can remember. Got it?’
Spiky whimpered his assent.
‘Get him processed straight away,’ Ava told Tripp. ‘And Lively, keep your hands off him, I know what you’re thinking.’
‘Where are you going?’ Lively asked.
‘Home to pick up my passport, then straight to the airport. Get in touch with Callanach and update him. I’m booking myself on the next flight to Paris. And figure out who Skye is. I’ll call you from Charles de Gaulle airport.’
‘You’re still going to write a letter to the judge saying I helped you, right?’ Spiky whined.
‘Fuck you,’ Ava said as she opened the van door. ‘You kidnapped people, trafficked them, and stood guard while women were murdered in front of an audience. I could write a million letters and you’d still never see daylight again without bars obscuring the view.’
‘Bitch,’ he squeaked.
‘I’m still armed.’ Ava paused, slipping one hand inside her jacket. ‘I could accidentally sh
oot you if you like. I’m quite happy to deal with the fallout.’
‘She’s insane,’ Spiky appealed to Tripp.
‘Just the way we like her,’ he replied, grabbing Spiky beneath the arms as Ava strode away.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
All the direct flights had already left for the day, leaving Ava no choice but to detour via Brussels then down to Paris. By the time she made it out of the airport, she still had no hotel booked and all the currency exchange booths were closed. Armed with a credit card and a backpack, she walked out into the night. Her mobile rang as she waited in line for a taxi.
‘Lively, ma’am. It’s about Detective Constable Swift.’
‘Go on,’ Ava said quietly.
‘He’s out of surgery. Shoulder’s a mess, and he needed a substantial blood transfusion. He’s in intensive care, but the doctors are confident he’ll be okay. Thought you’d want to know.’
Ava smiled and fought tears. Exhaustion, lack of food, a near-death experience and international travel were a bad combination.
‘Thanks, Sergeant,’ she said. ‘When he wakes up, tell him I said thank you.’
‘Aye, well he’s a brave bloody idiot, I’ll give him that. I guess this means you can’t really transfer him to traffic now.’
‘I guess not,’ Ava said. ‘I’d better go.’
‘You be careful there, ma’am. That’s probably enough excitement for one day.’
Ava rang off as a taxi pulled up.
‘I just need a decent hotel. Not expensive, but nothing below three stars,’ Ava told the driver through the window. He was replying in French, shrugging like it was going out of fashion, and managing to look her up and down so obviously that she was more astounded by it than enraged.
‘I don’t think so,’ Callanach said from behind her, reaching out to take her backpack and pulling her away from the edge of the pavement in a single move. The cab driver offered up one final shrug and drove away.
‘Are you insane? It’s three in the morning. You were about to get in an unlicensed cab without a definite location, holding just one tiny bag, looking like a runaway. Do you read newspapers? You know what can happen to women in those circumstances? Never consider a career in the police.’
‘I need coffee,’ Ava told him. ‘And a shower. I think I still have blood on me.’
‘Glad this isn’t a blind date,’ he smiled. ‘Come on, my car’s over here. Lively got in touch. I gather last night was rough.’
‘It was,’ Ava said. ‘One woman died, and I wish we could have avoided that. Everyone else had it coming. There was an awful lot of bloodshed, though. Did Lively give you a proper update?’
‘He said they’ve rescued a total of eighty women across the city and new information is still coming in during interviews. One hundred and forty men arrested. Every police station in the city is packed. What you achieved was amazing, Ava.’ He started the car. ‘You must be exhausted.’
‘Not really. Furious and horrified. Exhausted can wait a few more days. Have you heard about the young woman we believe is being held captive?’
‘Actually, I’ve seen photos of her. We’re going to my hotel. Did you at least bring a change of clothes?’
‘Just a pair of jeans.’
‘Literally … just one pair of jeans?’
‘I had trouble finding my passport so I emptied all my drawers onto the floor, then I ran out of time. I figured I’d buy something on the way but all the airport stores were shut last night and again this morning,’ Ava said. ‘Hold on, did you say you’ve seen photos of the woman we think is with Bart Campbell? How come? Did Lively locate a missing persons file?’
‘He did. The woman was reported missing by her brother a month ago, but the photos I saw were more recent than that. I left you a message with someone in the incident room but you’d already moved on the warehouse. I’ve made contact with the organisation involved in the kidnappings of Reilly, Campbell and Skye Kelso. They’re exploiting end of life patients with the promise of a miracle cure, apparently replacing the dead or infected cells in their bodies with good cells from another human.’
‘So it is transplants?’
‘It’s cannibalism,’ Callanach said, pulling into a parking slot in front of a twenty-four-hour cafe. ‘Still want that coffee?’
Ava stared out of the windscreen.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘Define okay.’
‘Able to breathe and swallow,’ he said.
‘Then I’m okay.’ She opened her car door and swung her legs out. By the time they had burning hot cardboard cups in their hands, she’d found her voice again. ‘I’m ready now,’ she said. ‘Tell me everything.’
They drove back to Callanach’s hotel as he ran through the sequence of events.
‘What’s happening right now?’ Ava asked as they took the lift to the ninth floor.
‘Interpol is arranging the bank transfer to Group 2029 this morning. As soon as they receive the funds, I’ll be sent another email with the next steps.’
He unlocked his hotel room door and showed her in.
‘What about the man you met who gave you the details? Can we not get any better information from him to close it down faster?’
‘He’s under arrest and being held in custody, but he was just a pawn with no inside involvement. An out-of-work actor, in fact, delivering a brief. Group 2029 are well organised. Each individual they use, right up until the final operation, is completely separate from the organisation. The man I met was given information sheets, told the bare minimum, paid cash, never given any real names or real company information. We picked him up as he left the building and I interviewed him for an hour, during which time all he did was cry. At one point he actually asked if we could phone his mother, which for a man in his thirties …’
‘Great,’ Ava said. ‘What about the money trail?’
‘It’s an online account routed through various international banks outside of Europe, two of which require us to get court orders by attending in person within their jurisdiction before they will release the information we need. We’ll get there eventually, but not in time to prevent another death.’
‘So we just wait?’ Ava kicked off her shoes and sank onto the sofa.
‘No,’ he said, reaching down to take her hand and pull her back on her feet. ‘You’re going to shower, then you’re going to sleep. We’re going to make sure we’re both ready for tomorrow.’
‘I can’t,’ Ava mumbled. ‘I totally forgot. One of the guys at Skye Kelso’s handover said she was being taken to some disused factory. I need to get researching.’
‘Interpol is already working with French police. We have an outline of a logo from the van that dropped off Malcolm Reilly’s body. We’re already narrowing down the possibilities.’
‘That doesn’t mean I can’t help. Another set of eyes on it …’
‘Ava, it’s nearly four a.m.’
‘And I’ll only lie awake wondering what it is I don’t know. Come on. Give me the potted version then I’ll shower.’
‘Fine. The logo is only an outline, it’s a leaf on its side, stem out to the right, as if it’s falling through the air. Interpol and French police have been working on it since we got the information but the possibilities are endless. I spoke to a woman in marketing about it. Honestly, it could be anything from arms sales to kids’ toys.’
‘She actually said that?’
‘Not in those words, but she said don’t be fooled by the concept. Marketing is all about creating masks. The more a company has to cover up, the more they want to create an image that suggests the opposite, so the logo won’t help us. Malcolm Reilly’s body gave no clues. There were traces of lanolin left at the scene when his body was deposited, but that has several potential sources. It’s really all or nothing. If they suspect me, and don’t invite me for the operation or whatever they’re calling it, all our leads might be lost.’
‘Great. What could possibly go wron
g?’ Ava yawned.
‘How long have you been awake now?’ Callanach asked. Ava folded her arms. ‘That’s what I thought. Now listen, get in the shower. I’m not talking to you again until you smell less like a butcher’s shop.’
‘Don’t be gross.’
‘What’s that ridiculous phrase I could never understand, the one you love so much? Kettle and pot?’
‘It’s pot and … never mind. Thank you for letting me stay here.’
‘As opposed to leaving you on the street?’
‘Luc, last time we shared a bedroom …’ she let the sentence finish itself. Nothing between them had been the same since.
‘We’re both a little older and a little wiser. This is a professional scenario. I’m sure we’ll cope.’
She nodded, draping her coat on the arm of a chair and picking up her backpack to take into the bathroom with her.
‘I’m going to insist on sleeping on the couch, though. Looks comfy enough,’ she said.
‘If that’s what you want.’ Callanach pulled two spare pillows from the bed and set them on the couch instead.
‘It is,’ she said, walking to the bathroom door and opening it an inch. ‘We’ll be in time to save them, right? Only I let a young woman die earlier tonight and I don’t want that to happen two nights in a row.’
Callanach took a blanket from the wardrobe and laid it out along the couch.
‘Fighting to save someone, even if it goes wrong, isn’t the same as letting someone die, Ava.’
‘I know that,’ she said. ‘But still.’
‘I’ll organise a wake-up call and breakfast for eight, then we’ll head into the Paris Police headquarters for a joint agency briefing.’
‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’
By the time Ava emerged from the shower to find a T-shirt left on the sofa for her, Callanach was already in bed, eyes closed, and silent. She settled herself on the sofa and pretended to sleep.
Chapter Forty
Ava sat in an unmarked van with a French drone operator whose grasp of English was limited to song lyrics, which was fair enough given that her French was entirely menu-based. They’d shaken hands, smiled at one another and settled down to a conversation consisting of gestures. It was 5 p.m.