Hidden

by Roger A Price

  ‘But?’ Vinnie said.

  ‘But he knows how hard it’s going to be to find the bastard. I’ve told him to circulate Susan Grady as wanted. We find her; we find Babik and the mill.’

  ‘What offences are you showing her as wanted for?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Misconduct in public office, and assisting an offender, for starters.’

  ‘Why don’t we add suspicion of murder? Whether or not she’s had anything to do with the deaths, it will give us a bargaining position to come down from.’

  ‘Good idea, Vinnie, if not a little unethical.’

  ‘But we don’t know she hasn’t had anything to do with the deaths,’ Vinnie said, with a half-smile.

  ‘True. OK, let’s do it.’

  ‘I’ll ring Jim in a mo,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘It might also turn off any “friends” she still may have support from in here, if they think she’s involved in murder,’ Harry added, but Vinnie knew he was talking to himself. Justifying the decision. ‘How did you get on?’ Harry added.

  ‘I’ve got two intel detectives who are going to scour the north and north-eastern parts of the city listing and photographing anything that looks like it is, or ever was, a mill.’

  ‘I’ll be a long list, in this town.’

  ‘I know,’ Vinnie said, before tentatively trying a sip of his coffee. ‘Ouch. This stuff gets hotter.’

  Then Vinnie’s phone rang, it was Christine, he took the call, ‘Hi, how’s it going?’

  ‘Amal’s been taken to a safe address overnight by social services, who are going to stay with her. One of your detectives has finished writing her statement in first draft. They are going to finish it tomorrow.’

  ‘You heading back to Manchester?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Not tonight. I’ve got to write up my own notes so I’m ready for June as and when you give me the green light. And before you say it, I know you and Harry will have to see my narrative first.’

  ‘No, I was just going to ask where you planned to stay.’

  ‘Not in your police J block again, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ll probably book in to the Premier Inn in the centre of town, and before you get any other ideas, it’ll be late before I turn in so hold the front page on your testosterone.’

  Vinnie laughed out loud before he replied, ‘I’ll probably stay there too and catch you at breakfast. Will you book me a room when you get there?’

  ‘Not going there just yet, but I’ll book you one online when I book mine. Lazy sod.’

  ‘Where are you off to?’

  ‘Thought I’d have a scoot around the Deepdale area, where I lost that perv’s van, see if I can’t find this mill.’

  Vinnie told her to be careful, and also added that there would be two of theirs sniffing about too, before he ended the call and briefed Harry.

  ‘You should head off,’ Harry said.

  ‘And you, you’ve been up even earlier than me.’

  ‘Might do, after I’ve finished here and spoken to Jim Day.’

  ‘OK, Harry. I’m going to have a sniff around to see if I can’t find Susan Grady.’

  ‘Now that would be the perfect end to the day. But don’t work too late,’ Harry smiled.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  ‘Where is this place? Boldo asked, as Babik pulled his blue motor into the small car park at the rear of the hotel.

  ‘It’s the Premier Inn,’ Babik replied, as he took stock of Boldo properly for the first time since he’d picked him up from Manchester Airport. A small swarthy man in his forties, with jet black hair. It was hard to say whether he was only of eastern Mediterranean heritage, or from further east. Babik had never asked. Not good form.

  ‘I asked where, not what,’ Boldo snapped.

  ‘The centre of Preston itself, your visit was at short notice.’

  Boldo sighed before he spoke. ‘Too risky for both of us. Have you forgotten that you are a wanted man?’

  Babik hadn’t planned to stay with Boldo; it was his turn to sigh.

  ‘And you would be surprised who knows me.’

  ‘I know, that’s why I didn’t pick somewhere in Manchester.’

  ‘Fair enough, but take us to somewhere on the outskirts. I saw a hotel near the motorway exit. Take us there,’ Boldo said.

  The ‘us’ word was not lost on Babik; he may well need Sue’s help after all. He just nodded his acquiescence and turned the car around. He had to do a three-point turn as a black cab was dropping a woman off at the entrance. Babik noticed how attractive the woman was, with long slender legs, and couldn’t help thinking how well she would fit in on the upper floor of the mill. He glanced at Boldo in order to make the comment, to try and lighten the mood, but Boldo wasn’t paying attention. Perhaps women weren’t his thing; even though he traded in them.

  Fifteen minutes later they were both booked in at the hotel near the motorway junction and Boldo said he would join him for dinner in 30 minutes. Babik couldn’t be bothered freshening up, so headed straight for the bar.

  Nothing was discussed during the meal, after which they refreshed their drinks and headed to a quiet corner.

  ‘So, all the problems are now taken care of?’ Boldo started with.

  ‘Absolutely, and the mill is not known to the police,’ Babik added.

  ‘How can you be so sure? The policía are not always as stupid as you may think.’

  ‘We have friends, as you know, and it was only yesterday when we checked,’ Babik replied.

  This seemed to satisfy Boldo, as he leaned back in his seat and took a sip of sangria before saying, ‘The mill will be our flagship; it is what we will show partners we bring on board. I will be in your trust on who you choose.’

  Babik was slightly irritated now. He knew this; this was his side of the business. He paused before he answered. ‘Look, Mr Boldo, you have no need to worry on that score. When the new girls are in place I have a list of serious people who are willing to set up all over this country. We will make millions.’

  ‘How do you propose we control these other mills?’ Boldo asked.

  ‘Easy,’ Babik said. ‘We sell them the concept as a franchise. An initial signing up fee and then an annual fee when we replace the girls. As the girls come with the fee and with no add-on costs, they will make far more money than with normal girls. And if anything goes wrong with individual premises, there will be no links back to you or me.’

  ‘How do you plan to ensure security?’ Boldo asked.

  Babik spent the next ten minutes outlining his plan. How no one would know how the girls were brought here or what happened to the worn out ones when they were replaced. How he had people in place to manage it for him so that there were no direct links back to him, and no links to him meant no links to Boldo.

  ‘This is very different to what we have now,’ Boldo commented.

  Babik knew that they had meant to set up the mill as a top class facility and just that. He also knew they had each made a fortune so far, but as the girls in the mill needed exchanging it was time to think bigger.

  ‘You are expecting me to source you a large number of girls.’ Boldo said, once Babik had finished. Babik reminded him of earlier conversations, when he had told Babik that he could get as many girls as they needed.

  ‘True, but you are now talking on an industrial scale. And if they need changing every year, it will be an ongoing issue,’ Boldo said.

  Time to put him to the test. ‘Can’t you do it?’

  Babik could see that his question had rattled Boldo, it was intended to. He paused before he answered. ‘Yes, I can do it, but it seems like I’m the one doing all the work.’

  Babik reminded Boldo that he had the entire infrastructure now in place to facilitate the custody and control of all the women as soon as they hit UK soil. And then added that they could use the same transportation routes the other way, to take the used women back out of the country.

  ‘And what do you expect me to do with them, once they are ba
ck on the European mainland?’ Boldo asked.

  Babik didn’t answer; he’d never thought that far ahead.

  ‘And why should we double the risk of our transportation routes by using them once more than we need?’ Boldo asked. But before Babik could answer, or even fully contemplate the question, Boldo continued. ‘I would feel safer and also feel like we were both doing an equal share of the work if we had an alternative arrangement.’

  ‘Such as?’

  Boldo didn’t answer the question, instead he side-tracked Babik and started talking about how they should change the current batch of girls in the mill. Babik didn’t understand. ‘There’s only six,’ he said. Then Boldo went on to explain that if they changed them two at a time, it would cause less upheaval; among the girls and for the punters. Babik got this, and said he thought it was a good idea.

  ‘Good, I’m glad you think so, as it brings me back to your question,’ Boldo said.

  Babik said he understood, but he didn’t.

  ‘It would be much safer if our alternative arrangement ensued that the used girls are disposed of, over here.’

  Babik noted the emphasis that Boldo placed on the word ‘used’. He was obviously not into women, but that aside, he soon switched on to what the swarthy one was suggesting. He knew he himself was an evil man, even though it was just business as far as he was concerned, but Boldo was something else. Even darker than Babik himself, if that was possible.

  ‘Now, hang on, asking me to off them all is a sudden jump in workload, and risk. Why can’t you do it once you are back in the Pyrenees?’

  ‘Safer done over here. You have water all around this country, no?’

  ‘You are asking me to do the real dirty work.’

  ‘What do you think I did with the first batch we exchanged from the other place?’

  Babik had never asked. He knew they had exchanged several girls, but never wondered what Boldo had done with them. ‘Well, if you’ve offed the first lot, why can’t you keep going?’ he asked.

  ‘Five or six is not big problem, but if we are to expand this into the franchise you suggest, it is too risky, too many involved. We need a local solution.’

  Babik could see the perverse logic in Boldo’s suggestion, but this meant taking things to a whole new depth. He didn’t answer, but walked to the bar to get more drinks. He made his way back to their alcove and retook his seat before he spoke. ‘What if I refuse?’

  ‘Then no more girls. I have contacts like you in France, who are keen to expand. But if I am to be honest with you, I like the English Channel. Call it my firewall. But if you do not want…’ Boldo shrugged his shoulders.

  Babik knew he had no choice, but he would get someone else to take the risks for him, someone he could trust. Someone the girls would trust. He recalled how, back in his childhood, his father would stroke the goats’ heads and make soothing sounds to them — just before he slit their throats.

  He looked at Boldo and nodded.

  ‘Excellent, my friend, we have a new arrangement,’ Boldo said.

  ‘But I want a 70/30 split,’ Babik said.

  ‘60/40,’ Boldo replied.

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Good, now let us talk about your next two girls.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘In fact, why not show me the mill and you can choose which you want to replace,’ Boldo smiled.

  Chapter Fifty

  Christine checked into the hotel and left a note for Vinnie, whom she noted had yet to arrive. She’d felt a little guilty at knocking him back this evening, but she had work to do. She put her room number in the note and told him to pop in later if it wasn’t too late, but only if he could. Or he could give her an early call, before breakfast. She flushed at her own subtext. Once showered and changed, she ate and picked up the keys from reception for the hire car she’d asked them to arrange. Thankfully the budget-sized saloon came with sat nav fitted.

  She wasn’t too sure what she was looking, for but guessed the mill would outwardly seem a closed or even derelict property, as was the norm with such things. However, after an hour or so driving around the streets of Deepdale and the northern end of Preston, she’d failed to find a single likely building. She found plenty of mills, or ex-mills, but all were clearly marked as businesses or had been remodelled into flats — there were plenty of those. She decided to try a new approach and headed back to Fletcher Road, which was near to where she’d originally lost the perv in his van; and where she’d seen Amal being dumped.

  Fletcher Road was poorly lit and at night time it was a different place. As she’d hoped, there were several street walkers evident. This is where the woman at the hostel had directed her the previous day. She drove slowly along the road, from end to end, and counted five women. All looked up on hearing her car approach, and then seemed to quickly lose interest on seeing the sex of the driver. She turned around and headed back along the street.

  She now realised her mistake. The women, on seeing her car return, must have thought she was police, because as quickly as they had first appeared from the shadows, they disappeared. Except for one. She was distracted, on her phone, and though she must have heard Christine’s car approach, she didn’t look up until the car was stopping. Christine already had her driver’s window down and heard the woman swear at her caller.

  ‘Can’t help it if it’s dead, you fucker. Look, I’m going, a punter’s just pulled up.’

  The woman snapped her phone shut, it was one of the old flip-tops. Almost an antique, Christine thought as she took in the woman. She couldn’t have been more than 25; it was difficult to tell because she was so thin. She had a denim jacket on over a boob tube, and a skirt that was so short it wasn’t much more than a very deep belt. A cheap pair of cracked shiny PVC thigh-length boots completed the outfit. Her face was jaded; tired, sunken and ghostly white. The woman walked towards the open window and as soon as she started to talk, Christine saw the rotten front teeth as further proof of this wretched woman’s heroin addiction. She felt utterly sorry for her.

  ‘Sorry love, if you’re after business I don’t do girls. Though maybe I should, some of the geezers we get round here are proper pigs.’

  ‘It’s not that, but—’ Christine started.

  ‘Hey,’ the woman said interrupting, as she looked at the car and then back at Christine, before she carried on, ‘You not the law are you? Cause—’

  It was Christine’s turn to interrupt. ‘No love, I’m not, and nor am I after business.’

  ‘Well, if you’re a do-gooder, there’s no saving me, darling, so don’t waste your time. So unless you’re the most unlikely looking smack dealer I ever saw, I ain’t interested.’

  Christine held up a £20 note she’d had out of sight and told the woman she was a reporter and she was interested in doing a piece about a brothel known as The Mill. The woman didn’t answer straight away; she had her eyes fixed on the note.

  ‘Look on it as removing your competition,’ Christine said, with more than a tinge of guilt at her own words.

  ‘Brothels ain’t no competition to the likes of me, darling, I’m bargain basement and I know it.’

  ‘Supposed to be around here somewhere,’ Christine said.

  ‘I ’eard that there was a posh place somewhere about, but you can ask any of the girls, no one knows where, or even if it’s true,’ the woman said, as she held out her hand.

  Christine passed over the note and then held a further £20 up. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ll spend that on yourself instead of drugs?’

  ‘Not a lot, but I’ll spend the next one on some proper grub if that’s also coming my way.’

  Christine wanted to believe her, by the look of her she could do with some decent food. ‘Fair enough, but you first,’ Christine said.

  ‘Like I said, no one knows for sure but often around this time, you clock some decent-looking motors driving down there,’ the woman said, whilst pointing to a road opposite. Christine glanced across
the street and saw the junction the woman was indicating, and noted the street name was Deepdale Mill Street. Apt, she thought, as she turned back to the woman. ‘And they look out of place?’ she asked.

  ‘Yep, and the drivers are always men on their own, we spot that straight away.’

  ‘How do you know they are punters?’ Christine asked.

  ‘’Cause they ’ave that leer in their eyes, and even though it’s obvious that they ain’t stopping, they have a quick perv as they drive past. So you do the maths, darling,’ the woman said, before she snatched the second £20 then added, ‘no offence love, but do you mind doing one? That’s the second punter who’s just driven past.’

  Christine hadn’t noticed but instinctively looked at the last car and saw the lone male driver in his fifties with his head apparently on a swivel. She shuddered; he looked normal and could have been anyone’s dad.

  By the time the car had passed her, she looked back, but the woman was already on her way. Such a shame; she was obviously as sharp as anything, and could be anything: anything but this.

  Christine spent the next 20 minutes exploring Deepdale Mill Street and all its tributaries but saw nothing obvious. Nor did she see any posh motors driven by lone male pervs. In fact, the only car she’d seen had passed her two minutes ago but with two men on board, so she decided to pull over and park up for a while. She checked the dash clock; she’d give it another 20 minutes and then turn in at 10 pm.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Babik drove from the hotel and 10 minutes later was turning into Deepdale Mill Street. He noticed three street-walkers but noticed that Boldo hadn’t. He pointed them out, and commented on the state of them. ‘It keeps the lower end of the market away from us,’ he said.

  A further five minutes and he was pulling up into the mill’s car park. He saw Boldo take in the sign announcing ‘Quality Textiles — garments with the softest touch,’ before roaring with laughter. ‘I can guarantee my girls all have the softest touch.’

  After Babik had parked and killed the lights, Boldo held his arm and said they should discuss business before they went in. Babik nodded and Boldo carried on. ‘How have you ensured security with the girls, so far?’