Back in the main office, Harry was not at his desk. “Have you heard from him?” she asked Angela.
“No, he hasn’t rung in.”
For a brief moment, Jess wondered if something had happened to him, perhaps he had fallen in Don’s place. But she dismissed the thought. He’d have rung her.
“Have arrangements been made to interview the prisoner?”
Angela looked up from her computer screen. “No need. He’s been released without charge.”
Jess was stunned. What the hell was going on? Since when could folk pull a gun, use it in a public place and get away with it?
“I don’t understand. What happened?”
“It was done on the super’s orders. Apparently, you arrested the wrong man. It was all a big mistake.”
It was no mistake. They had the gun and his mobile. If evidence was needed, forensics could provide the lot. “Try telling Martha Cassidy that,” she said. She took her phone from her pocket and rang Harry. It went to voicemail. Now, why didn’t that surprise her? What the hell was Harry playing at? What fairy tale had he told Rodders to get the shooter freed? And most of all, why?
Chapter Thirty-eight
Marcus Edge drove them out of Ryebridge towards Stockfield, and then towards a village up in the hills. “I know a café up here.” He pointed towards a collection of stone buildings nestling against the hills. “It does a great full English.”
“Look, I really haven’t time to eat or the stomach for it. There’s a mountain of work waiting for me back at the station.”
“If you’re talking about your gunman, that’s all been sorted.”
Harry stared at him. How could that possibly have been arranged? Marcus Edge had spoken so casually. “I don’t understand. We had him banged to rights. It’s only a matter of time before forensics find prints, as well as the bullet from the gun he used to shoot at Caleb Cassidy.”
“Leave the details to me,” Edge said. “The man is small fry in comparison to the ones we’re after. The people who employ him think his release is down to you, and that’s how I want it. You are now a valuable asset to them, and that makes you valuable to us too.”
“I’m still not with you. Why would you want a man like that loose on the streets?”
“Don’t worry, he’s being watched.”
Edge parked up in the café car park and they went inside. The place was empty. Edge nodded at the woman behind the counter, who seemed to know him.
“I’m not sure I can eat much,” Harry said.
“As you please, but I’m starving,” Edge said. “The full works, please, Claire.” They sat down facing each other.
Harry settled for toast and coffee. “It does look great. I’ll come back when I’m more up to it.” He gave the man opposite him a long hard look. “What’s this all about? You seem to possess the ability to work magic and it’s making me somewhat nervous.”
Marcus Edge laughed. “There’s nothing magic about what I do, believe me. Right now, I’m slogging away on a bloody difficult case, just like you.”
“I’m guessing it’s the same one,” Harry said.
Edge nodded. “I work in the Modern Slavery Human Trafficking Unit. It’s part of the Organised Crime Command in the NCA. We coordinate with police forces in the UK and internationally to combat modern slavery crimes.”
“Who is it you’re after?”
“The man at the top, of course. Which is ambitious, even for us, as he has proved elusive so far. You see, this case is not as simple as you think. What you see, Harry, is merely the tip of an iceberg. These people operate all over the world, and what you’re dealing with in your area is only a small part of it.”
“Why would a worldwide operation be interested in our deprived little corner of northern England?” Harry said. “People round here have no money, most of them just manage to scrape a living together.”
“Your patch has attracted some serious interest from people traffickers recently. What I’m after is names.”
Harry stared at him. Drugs, yes, he’d seen that for himself. But trafficking? He’d seen no evidence of that. Then he twigged. “The container, the one brought in on that truck?”
“Exactly. That lorry travelled from Istanbul, crossed the channel, and ended up in Ryebridge. The cargo was people — women and girls I suspect. Their destination, the clubs around the north west, the nail bars, the streets — you know the drill.”
“What? All of them?” Harry gaped.
“No, some of them will remain in Ryebridge, one of them is valuable to them. I suspect they have something special lined up for her.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“You’ll have heard about the Tracy Buckton case, the missing heiress? We believe she is one of the women brought to Ryebridge in that container.”
Harry was flabbergasted. That was a high-profile case that had been ongoing for months. Every station in the country had been alerted and sported a poster of the young woman’s face on their notice boards. “What about the others?”
“Marsh’s former factory is being transformed into a sweatshop as we speak. The women trafficked in will work at those machines until they drop. They’ll get little or no pay, rubbish food and will be housed on that estate that gives you so much trouble.”
“That was what they wanted the factory and Nick Sutton’s houses for?” Harry asked.
“Yes. Naturally, Sutton and Marsh refused to hand their properties over. They were hard men in their own right and would have caused trouble, so they were got rid of. Nevertheless, these people like to ensure that the paperwork is in order.” Edge laughed. “Hence, the factory was legally signed over for a pittance, as were the houses.”
“And Sutton and Marsh lost their lives in the process,” Harry said. “Now I’m investigating their murders.”
“I know, and eventually you will get the guilty banged to rights. There was nothing I could do to stop the killings. At the time, I didn’t have anyone in place to relay the information to me.”
Harry was astonished that this man knew so much about what was going on. “Who is behind this? Do you have their names?”
Marcus Edge put down his fork. “I have a handful of names, Harry. Emira Mehmed and her brother Kamal for a start. It’s their job to get things set up. It will have been one or both of them who murdered Sutton and Marsh.”
Harry suddenly recalled the faint kiss mark on Andy’s cheek. Emira had kissed him in the same way. Unconsciously, he touched his cheek. “I’ve met Emira but not the other one. Equally as, er, interesting, is he?”
“He’s a huge monster of a man with no morals, every bit as vicious as his sister. When you do meet him, it’s important you make him like you.”
“Like me? I don’t get it. I shall do my utmost to have nothing to do with him,” Harry said.
“That might not be possible,” Edge said.
“Why don’t you simply arrest them? You appear to know everything, and you must have gathered sufficient evidence.”
“Not that simple, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t understand what’s stopping you,” Harry said.
“What’s happening in Ryebridge is a tiny piece of a much bigger enterprise,” Edge said. “The Mehmets are helping to set things up here, but that’s as far as it goes. They aren’t in charge, and there is an entire hierarchy above them. The one I want is the man organising the operation across the whole of the north of England, not just around Ryebridge. Once he’s in custody, I’m hoping to strike a deal and that he in turn will lead us up the tree, and eventually we will make serious inroads into the entire filthy business.” Marcus Edge finished eating and studied Harry for a moment or two. “That’s where you come in.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
Harry was a definite no-show and Jess was damned annoyed with him. She could guess what had happened, he’d gone into Don’s and instead of getting ready for work, he’d crashed out and was sleeping it off. Okay, if that was his gam
e, she’d go it alone. When she’d spoken to Lisa Marsh yesterday, she hadn’t learned much, later she’d go back and try again, but first she’d have another go at Babs Milton.
Babs had to know more than she’d told them. She’d worked closely with Andy, answered the office phone, was privy to his calls and probably his emails. It was possible that she held the key to a breakthrough.
Jess was nervous about visiting the Baxendale on her own, the place was a hotbed of crime and the youngsters were often keen to chance their luck against the police. She took a DC with her, Colin Vance. He knew the score, he’d even been on the sharp end of violence meted out by the Cassidys. His experience would make him doubly wary.
“We’ll park up a few doors away,” she told him. “The element of surprise might work to our advantage.”
Once they’d parked up, Jess decided she’d approach the woman alone. “You stay in the car, out of sight. I don’t want to worry Babs, nor do we want to upset the natives by appearing mob-handed. Spot anything suspicious, ring me and if I need you, I’ll shout.”
Jess didn’t know a great deal about Babs, but she’d learned that Milton was her maiden name — divorced, attached, she had no idea. As she was about to get out of the car, she saw a man leaving the house.
“Get a photo,” she urged DC Vance. “It might be useful.”
“He’s a bit of a brute,” Vance noted. “Looks foreign, I’d say.”
Jess felt a flutter of nerves. Vance was right. The man was tall and hefty with close-cropped hair. He got to the front gate, looked up and down the street, then took a mobile from his pocket and walked off, speaking to someone. Jess knew most of the troublemakers on the estate, but she’d never seen this one before. Was he a boyfriend, or was Babs being threatened? But she could see no reason. Lancashire Holdings had the factory and didn’t appear to be making a play for anything else. Time to find out.
“A person can’t get any peace round here anymore,” Babs said. “I’m busy. What d’you want now? If it’s information, I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Who was that bloke who just left your house?” Jess asked.
Babs looked annoyed. “A bloody friend. Is that against the law?”
“I’ve not seen him before, that’s all.”
Babs chose not to elaborate. “Look, I’ve got stuff to do, so make it quick.”
This time round, Babs was definitely not so friendly. She didn’t even invite Jess inside.
“I’m still curious about the man who inquired about buying the factory,” Jess said. “Have you remembered anything else about him?”
“Nothing to remember, love. Just some young bloke. Look, can’t you get it through that thick skull of yours? I can’t help you. I don’t know anything.”
“But you did see him. He kept bothering Andy, you said. Can you describe him?” Jess asked.
“Young, dark, foreign, I think. Oh, and he was well dressed.” She glared at Jess. “But I’ve told you all this before.”
Jess saw she was wasting her time. Babs wasn’t going to say anything else. “Okay, but we might want to speak to you again.”
“Any luck?” Vance asked when she was back in the car.
“No, but I feel sure she’s lying. She’s hiding something, I could see it on her face.”
They drove off down the street. On the corner, Jess spotted the unknown man talking to some kids. “Pull over. Let’s see what he’s up to.”
The pair watched the man grab hold of a young lad’s arm, swing him off his feet and throw him to the ground. They were close enough to hear him swear, but he wasn’t speaking English.”
“I think that was Turkish,” Vance said. “I speak a bit — comes off holidaying there every year.”
“Who d’you reckon he is? A dealer perhaps?” Jess asked.
“Could be anyone. D’you want to bring him in?”
Jess was weighing that one up. There was just the two of them. She could call for backup, but what if the bloke was simply a parent out looking for his kid? They knew nothing about him, or what he was up to. Granted he knew Babs, but she was on the level too, as far as Jess knew.
“No, leave it. If he is a bad ’un, he’ll make mincemeat of the pair of us.”
Vance had his mobile out again and was taking photos of the man and the group of kids. “I’ll check that little lot out back at the station.”
The man took off again, back in the direction he’d just come from.
“Follow him,” Jess said. “My gut tells me he’s up to something.”
“He might see us,” Colin said.
“So what, he can’t outrun the car, can he.”
At the junction of Babs’s road, he turned right into the street where Kelsey Green had lived. He stopped at her house and stood outside, apparently waiting. A quick phone call later and a minibus turned up.
“I wonder what’s going on,” Jess said. “What’s he up to?”
The front door of the house opened, and a group of dishevelled-looking women and girls emerged. Some were dressed in western clothing while others wore eastern garb. Jess strained to see. She was sure some of them had their hands tied. They were shepherded out and pushed one by one and none too gently into the minibus.
“Get this videoed on your phone,” Jess told Vance. “This isn’t a bit of dealing, is it? This is something much worse.”
Chapter Forty
Harry shook his head. He didn’t understand. “What use can I be? My work is limited to local crime. I don’t know anything about the global, organised stuff.”
This was way beyond what he wanted to get into. Harry had deliberately chosen to come to Ryebridge because it was the back end of nowhere, and crime here was the usual mix, with the occasional murder thrown in. What had been happening recently was way beyond normal for the area.
“Despite your reservations, you can be extremely useful to us. The local group have deliberately chosen you as their person on the inside, here in Ryebridge. As a senior CID officer, you have the power to turn a blind eye, in other words you can make things go away.” Edge smiled.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because of what they know about you,” Edge said
So, Edge knew about that too. Yes, Emira did appear to know things about him and she’d threatened him with that knowledge.
“I don’t understand how they found out.” And what did Edge know?
“They were told. You were selected as being someone who could be manipulated because of your past. That is how they operate. In most areas across the country, in other countries too, they have people working for them in the police, in politics and in business.”
“But I’m small fry. So is this town. It’s of no importance to anyone.”
“That makes it perfect for them. As I said, it’s a crime-ridden area, has a population with little money, ideal for finding people who are easily bribed. That factory they acquired is now a sweatshop, but it will also be used for packaging drugs and as a front for the trafficking. From there, the girls will be hired out to clubs, pubs and beauty parlours, and they’ll work for nothing. Some, particularly the pretty ones, will be sold on. It’s a lucrative business, Harry, and these people operate all over the world.”
“And there was me thinking it was all about the drugs.”
“If it was, we wouldn’t be meeting like this. The drugs aspect is not my remit. But drugs will be involved, doubtless transported along with the girls.”
“How do they get hold of the women and girls?”
“The refugee camps on the other side of the Channel. Some are picked up at airports by men purporting to be taxi drivers. There are numerous ways.”
This was an education for Harry. “And now they know about me. Do you know how that happened?”
“Mungo Salton is the prime candidate,” Edge said. “We have information that he has been active in the Glasgow faction for the last year.”
Given what he knew of Salton and what Sandy had told h
im, that made sense. Salton certainly hated him enough to stitch up the rest of his life. “I’d heard he’d disappeared. Gone absent for a while.”
“He hasn’t been seen for several months, that’s true. He disappeared around the same time as McBain.”
“So, what do I do now?” Harry asked.
“Nothing. You play along, Harry, do as they tell you.”
Harry wasn’t prepared for that. “You want me to become a bent copper?”
Marcus Edge smiled. “You already are. The gunman has been released and no doubt Emira has already delivered payment and is singing your praises. For the time being, I want you to do as she asks. But before you do anything, you must contact me, and I’ll okay it. Your superintendent is aware of your position in case you become the subject of gossip in your station.” He took a mobile from his jacket pocket. “Take this and use it only to ring me. It’s a pay-as-you-go and it’s unregistered. I will be using one the same. That way, should either of them fall into the wrong hands, it can’t be traced back to us.”
“Does this mean I’m working for the NCA now?”
“After a fashion. What we want from you is information. Emira, her brother and the lorry drivers are working for the man who runs the north of England, the one who orchestrates the entire operation. I want that man’s name.”
“There is someone else, a young man who goes by the name of Zeno,” Harry said.
“Zeno is with us, working undercover. Well, he was. I’ve pulled him out. He’s served his purpose.”
A surprise. “He didn’t say.”
“And he won’t,” Edge said. “He wouldn’t want compromising.”
“Look, Marcus, you seem to have a lot of confidence in me. You believe I’m up to this, do you? You think that Emira or her brother will talk to me, tell me who is running the show?”
THE GUILTY MAN an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detectives Lennox & Wilde Thrillers Book 1) Page 14