Penrith nodded. ‘And then maybe they did something wrong and were punished. Raped, beaten, murdered.’
She handed the evidence bag back to him. ‘Absolute bastards.’
‘It gets worse.’
‘Worse?’ She almost laughed. ‘How could anything be worse than this?’
‘In a million ways, you know that. It was the wrong word to use. I meant more complicated.’
He took out another photograph. ‘Last one, I promise.’
This time Caelan looked down at the beaming face of a young woman. Hair the colour of treacle, wide green eyes. She blinked.
‘Who is she?’
‘Her name’s Lucy. She’s received death threats and… well, other threats. Threats of a personal and… vicious nature.’ Penrith widened his eyes, inviting her to join the dots.
‘You mean threats of sexual violence.’
‘Correct.’
Caelan saw the flash of disgust in his expression, but his tone remained matter-of-fact. She swallowed. ‘What does this have to do with…’ She nodded at the other photographs, the post-mortem report.
‘A photograph of the third victim’s body, taken after she had been thrown into the bin with the other rubbish, was sent by text to Lucy. Untraceable.’ Scowling, Penrith pointed at the photograph. ‘And Lucy is James Mulligan’s kid sister.’
He stopped, again appearing to be waiting for her to make the connection. She looked up at him, imagining she could feel the eyes of the woman in the photograph on her. She thought about it, not liking the possibilities coming into her mind. It was tenuous, but feasible.
‘Are you saying someone’s using the threats to the sister to send Mulligan a message?’
‘It’s possible. We have three victims we can’t trace. They were obviously involved in sex work, possibly trafficked. We know Mulligan had his fingers in that particularly horrific pie.’
Sickened, Caelan considered what he was suggesting. ‘Does Mulligan recognise any of the victims?’
‘He says not. To be fair, he could barely look at the photographs.’ Penrith screwed up his face. ‘Not so easy to deny what you’ve done when you’re brought face to face with the people whose lives you were involved in destroying.’
‘Then the people Mulligan worked with telling him to keep his mouth shut? Why would they? Why would they think he would grass?’
He sat back, folding his arms across his considerable belly. ‘For the reason we’re offering: to take some time off his sentence – a deal. Someone is obviously worried he might open his mouth – the same people who murdered, or ordered the deaths of, these three young people. What else could it be? Lucy Mulligan’s doing well at university; there’s never been any question of her being involved in anything dodgy like her brother. She has no enemies.’
‘As far as you know.’
‘She’s had a brick thrown through her window, messages sent by text and email. She’s even been followed, and now she’s been sent a photograph of a dead girl? She’s adamant she has no idea what’s going on, and Tim Achebe believes she’s telling the truth.’
‘But—’
‘Achebe knows we’re considering making Mulligan an offer,’ Penrith went on. ‘We want to use him to get close to the people he was working with. Lucy went to the local police about the threats, understandably worried and frightened. When she received the text with a photograph of an obviously dead girl, Achebe got to hear of it.’
‘You’re worried about the operation you’ve dreamed up involving Mulligan.’ Caelan didn’t bother to try to disguise the scorn in her voice, but Penrith was undeterred.
‘And I’m worried about Lucy. If she’s already under threat, and her brother’s not even back on the streets yet… We know James Mulligan had contact with people traffickers. You can imagine what a laugh they’d think it would be to force his sister to work in one of their brothels.’
Caelan could visualise the horror only too well. ‘She’d be dead within months.’
Penrith stared at her. ‘You mean weeks, if not days.’
Silence.
‘Has Mulligan said anything? Does he know who might be involved?’ Caelan asked eventually.
A snort. ‘He won’t talk, not a word. He’s terrified, and who can blame him? I think there’s only one way to approach this. We’re going to let him go and see where he leads us.’
Caelan couldn’t believe it. ‘What? I saw him shoot a man dead. You’ve evidence of his involvement in everything from selling crack to kidnap, torture and murder, and you’re allowing him to walk free?’
Penrith grabbed more biscuits. ‘Whatever he’s done, Mulligan’s classed as small fry. We want to offer him a compromise. We’ll protect his sister if he helps us put away some of the real villains he knows.’
‘Wouldn’t him working with us put her in more danger? Why would he even consider it?’
‘Because he’s a selfish bastard who’s terrified of prison.’
‘Still.’
Penrith shrugged. ‘It’s a risk, but a risk to her, not to Mulligan. We’re dangling a fairly huge carrot.’
Caelan shook her head. ‘You’re going to forget what he’s done?’
He wagged a finger. ‘I didn’t say that. He’ll still do his time, don’t worry.’
‘Beckett mentioned this before. I told her then I wouldn’t be involved. Mulligan knows me, he’s seen my face.’
‘He offered you a job.’
‘When he thought I had a kilo of coke to sell, yeah. Before he knew I was police. Once he found out who I really was, he told his men to kill me.’ The memory was all too vivid. The gun pointed at her face, the blank eyes of the man holding it, and Caelan’s own lack of fear. She had almost willed him to pull the trigger.
Penrith gave another snort. ‘But they didn’t. Mulligan respects you, I heard him tell you so himself.’
‘What are you proposing?’
‘Mulligan goes back to his old job – being a scumbag. You step in as his right-hand woman, learn the ropes. Maybe you’re a cousin, a new girlfriend. We haven’t worked out the details.’
‘You don’t think it’ll look obvious? Mulligan suddenly reappears just when his sister’s being threatened? Every dealer in London will have heard about him being arrested.’
Penrith was shaking his head. ‘I don’t think so. The word on the street is that Mulligan got away when his men were nicked. He ended up in hospital and was interviewed by the police but never charged.’
‘Strange how rumours get around, isn’t it?’ Caelan knew Penrith would have told his numerous informants and contacts to start the whispers. ‘I still don’t buy it. Why would Mulligan have a new assistant all of a sudden?’
‘Stands to reason. The two men he used for protection and as general thugs are in jail and will be for years. He can’t do everything alone.’ Penrith lumbered to his feet and went to the sink to fill the kettle.
‘Mulligan and his men weren’t the only people arrested that day,’ Caelan reminded him. ‘How are you going to keep Waits—’
Penrith flicked the kettle on to boil and held up a hand. ‘Already dealt with. If Waits wants to see his baby, he’ll play along.’
‘Really? You think that’ll work? The baby isn’t due for months.’
‘He’s already agreed. He was easily persuaded, especially when we made additional promises. You know how much leeway we have when we need it. Better food, softer toilet paper…’ He grinned. ‘All of which can be rescinded when the job’s done. Seriously, though, he’s desperate to see the child. If we can make that happen – and we can – he’ll do anything we want, including keeping his mouth shut.’
Caelan leant back, thinking it over. Penrith crossed to a cupboard, removed two mugs and found a box of tea bags.
‘Make yourself at home, why don’t you?’ she said.
‘Were you offering to make the drinks?’ He waited. ‘Thought not.’ He poured water into the cups and sloshed the tea bags around with a spoon. ‘What do you recko
n?’
‘I don’t like it. It’s too risky, and Mulligan especially can’t be trusted.’
Penrith set a mug in front of her and sat back down. ‘We’re not doing it for him.’ He gestured at the post-mortem report. ‘We don’t even know this girl’s name.’ Leaning across the table, he tapped a thick finger on the photograph of Lucy Mulligan. ‘And this young woman has done nothing wrong, apart from being born into the same family as her worthless brother. We need to help them. Both of them.’
Caelan eyed him. ‘I didn’t believe you’d stoop low enough to use innocent people to get what you wanted. Seems I was wrong.’
He smiled. ‘You think? Not only is Lucy Mulligan innocent, she’s someone we can’t afford to lose.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She’s a computer expert, and I mean the best of the best. A wizard. She has all sorts of top-secret government types sniffing around her, waiting for her to graduate so they can snap her up. We need to protect her. If we do, it’ll make all of our careers. If we don’t…’
‘We’ll be hung out to dry.’ Caelan was beginning to see why Penrith had travelled here to speak to her himself.
‘It won’t bother you, of course, since you’ve abandoned your career yet again anyway. But some of us still have a mortgage to pay and are depending on having a pension when we retire.’ Penrith sipped his tea, watching her over the brim of his cup. ‘Think about it, Caelan. Think about these kids, dumped like so much rubbish. Remember those girls in the brothel you found. We’re talking about people traffickers, the ones at the top of the chain. It’s a chance to put them away for the rest of their lives.’ He stopped, then said, ‘Remember—’
‘Don’t.’ It was a command, and for once, Penrith listened. Neither of them spoke, Penrith drinking his tea and Caelan staring at nothing, torn by what he had told her. She wanted to walk away and never look back, but what she had heard was like a siren call. She had no choice.
Penrith knew her as well as she had thought she knew him, and now she realised he wasn’t above pressing every button he could think of.
‘What does Mulligan say?’ she asked eventually.
Penrith kept sipping. ‘No.’
‘What?’
‘Mulligan said he wouldn’t do it.’
‘Then why—’
‘We told him about the threats his sister had received, what they specified in graphic detail would happen to her if he talked, showed him the photographs of the three victims. He didn’t much care, at least acted as though he didn’t, so we told him he’d serve three years in an open prison if he spilled his guts. That changed his mind.’
Caelan was sickened. ‘Only three years? Probably not even that.’
‘It’s a bluff, of course. Once we’ve got what we need, he’ll never see the light of day, but he doesn’t need to know that.’ Penrith glanced at his phone. ‘I have to get back to London.’ He made her meet his eyes. ‘What do you say? I’m not asking you to rejoin the force. You’ll be a… contractor. You’ll report to me, and only me. No need for you to liaise with Assistant Commissioner Beckett at all. No need for you to even see her.’
‘Beckett’s agreed to this?’
He shrugged. ‘She’s looking the other way.’
‘Great. Then if it blows up in our faces, she walks away without a scratch?’
‘As always.’
‘And if we make arrests, she gets the glory?’
‘If you want applause, Caelan, you’re in the wrong line of work. You know that. Beckett plays the game; we do the dirty work. Always.’ He stood. ‘Well?’
She closed her eyes, hating herself. ‘All right, I’m in.’
To Penrith’s credit, he didn’t gloat, didn’t even react. ‘Good. I’ll give you tonight to close up this place. Come to my office tomorrow morning and we’ll get you on your way.’ He dumped his mug in the sink, picked up his phone and the bunch of keys. Holding them up, he grinned at her. ‘Looks like Ewan might get these back tonight after all.’ He left her sitting at the table, her head in her hands.
Once she’d heard the front door close, Caelan opened her eyes.
Penrith had left the photographs and post-mortem report on the table. She turned away from them, knowing he had done so deliberately. She had been manipulated, and now she acknowledged she had allowed it to happen.
Elizabeth Beckett had been right. Undercover work was like a drug, and once you had tasted it, felt the rush, there was nothing else like it. This time, though, it would be different. She wouldn’t allow them to take complete control, not again.
She didn’t trust them. She had grown used to thinking of Penrith as an ally, but now she wondered whether she had been fooled.
Lucy Mulligan smiled up at her as she took her mobile out of her pocket and scrolled to the number she wanted.
‘Caelan?’ Nicky’s voice was weak, groggy. Caelan swallowed.
‘How are you?’ she managed to ask.
‘I asked you not to call.’ Nicky spoke quietly, but there was no mistaking the steel.
‘I just wanted to let you know, I’m going away for a while.’
Nicky would understand what she really meant, Caelan knew. It was all part of the game. The doublespeak, the deception. There was silence, and Caelan moved the phone away from her ear, checking the screen to make sure the signal hadn’t been lost. At last Nicky spoke again, her voice gentle.
‘The job will kill you one day, you know. I mean it, Caelan. You saw what happened to me. Don’t let them do the same to you.’
Caelan’s mouth felt parched. ‘I won’t.’
‘But you’re still letting them rule your life?’
‘No, I…’ She allowed her voice to fade. What was there to say?
Nicky clicked her tongue. ‘You can’t stay away, can you? Even though it’s destroying you and everything that should be important to you.’
Caelan’s laugh was bitter. ‘I don’t think it was me who did that, do you?’ She closed her eyes, regretting the words as soon as she had said them.
Nicky’s tone changed, cold and clinical once more. ‘Goodbye, Caelan. Please don’t call me again, not ever. I’ll be changing my number.’ She was gone before Caelan could reply.
Mechanically Caelan pushed the handset into her jeans pocket and went upstairs to pack.
3
The evening had drawn in quickly, the house cold enough that she could see her husband’s breath as he snored on the sofa. Lynn put down her book and slowly, painfully, struggled to her feet and made her way to the thermostat in the hall to turn the heating on. The arthritis in her hip seemed to be worsening by the day. She didn’t need a walking stick yet, but she knew it wouldn’t be long. Not a happy thought.
She limped into the kitchen, filled the kettle and set it to boil. She took two mugs from one cupboard, two hot-water bottles from another and then reached to the highest shelf for the locked metal cash box that held their medication. One tablet for her in the evening, several more for Pete.
She made the tea and carried the cups through to the living room separately, so she could use both hands to hold them steady, then did the same with two glasses of water. As she put the glasses down and sat beside her husband, he stirred and opened his eyes, smiling at her.
‘I was going to make the tea,’ he said. ‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘Not long,’ she lied. He sat up and reached for the mugs on the coffee table, handing Lynn hers first. He saw the plastic medication boxes she’d brought through, seven days’ supply of drugs for each of them already counted out into separate compartments.
‘Tablet time again?’ He grimaced. ‘We’ll soon be rattling.’
Lynn sipped her tea. ‘Andrew sent me a text earlier,’ she said. ‘He wants to know if we’d like to go to watch Sophie’s Christmas play with them.’
Pete nodded. ‘Do you remember the year Andrew played Joseph in the nativity and knocked Mary off the stage?’
Lynn nodded. ‘Accidenta
lly.’
Pete grinned. ‘Still. Her mum wasn’t happy.’
‘Well, you know what some parents are like. Their child has to be the star of the show.’
‘No chance of that with ours.’ Pete took a mouthful of tea. ‘Both too shy.’
‘You’re talking about primary school, Peter. It’s a long time ago.’
He looked at the pills lined up on the table. ‘Don’t I know it.’
‘That girl, the one that played Mary, she always had her finger up her nose. I can’t remember her name.’ Lynn paused, looked at her husband. ‘Is that someone at the door?’
‘I didn’t hear anything.’
She shuffled forward on the seat. ‘I’ll go and check. It’ll be Andrew, it’s his five-a-side night. He might not have his key.’
Pete put out a gentle hand to stop her, mindful of her sore hip. ‘Stay there, I’ll go. No point in you getting up again.’
He pushed his feet into his slippers, put his cup down on the table and made for the door.
The hallway was in darkness, but he could see a shadow on the step outside as he switched on the light. He frowned, wondering who was there. Andrew would have just knocked on the door until one of them opened it, or rung to say he was outside. He usually let them know if he was going to call in on his way home from football anyway. Pete wasn’t a nervous man, but he slid the security chain on all the same as he fumbled with his keys and peered around the door. Instantly his expression changed as he recognised the person who stood there. Beaming, he wrenched off the chain and threw open the door.
‘Hello, Dad,’ Caelan said as she flung her arms around her father.
* * *
Five minutes later, she was sitting on the settee between her parents with a piece of home-made Victoria sponge and a coffee. Already she felt more relaxed. This was home: the house she’d grown up in, the people who loved her.
Her mum was grinning at her. ‘This is a lovely surprise,’ she said. ‘You should have let us know you were coming.’
‘And you’d have baked a cake?’ Caelan smiled, her parents laughing at the weak joke, as she’d known they would.
Time to Go Page 3
