Complete Detective Stephen Greco Box Set

by Helen H. Durrant

  Rouse was up to his neck in this. But how to find him? This notebook had to hold a clue. Mickey glanced at the clock and then studied the reflection of the skinny kid who looked back at him from the glass.

  Then he had an idea. He smiled. There was someone who might be able to help.

  Chapter 12

  The Italian restaurant was in a pleasant little square at the confluence of several narrow lanes. It was early evening, and the late autumn sun had brought folk out. People sat outside drinking and chatting. Inside, the place was just as busy.

  Grace looked around. “Nice. Wish this was on our doorstep after work. Very different from the Gorton Arms.”

  Greco went straight to the bar and asked for Amani Ali. The young man serving looked at him with suspicion.

  “What do you want with her?” he asked.

  “She knows we are coming. My name is Greco.” He omitted the ‘DCI.’ The fewer who knew the reason for their visit, the better. The barman disappeared to return a few minutes later with a young woman. Greco put her in her mid-twenties. She was wearing a plain black dress that covered her arms and legs, plus a headscarf. The barman spoke to her in what Greco guessed was Arabic, and then gestured to a room off the main eating area.

  “Is it alright for you to take a few minutes off?” Greco asked. “We can wait until you come off shift if you’d rather.”

  Amani Ali said nothing. Once the three of them were inside the small room, she closed the door, and nodded at Grace. “Who is this?”

  “DC Grace Harper. I thought you might be more comfortable if she was present,” he explained.

  “Okay, she can stay,” Amani said.

  “You’ve seen the photo of our victim. It isn’t very good, I’m afraid. Is there anything you can tell me about Jamal that will confirm that it’s him?”

  “Jamal has an old scar where he had his appendix out. But the big thing is his feet. They are different sizes.” She smiled. “We always teased him about it as children. My parents had to get his shoes specially made. Fortunately they were well off. Before the war, that was.” She lowered her head.

  So it was him. Now the grim task of confirming the news. “I’m afraid it is your brother who was killed, Miss Ali. We are both very sorry.”

  She stiffened. “Where is his body?”

  “He is still in the morgue.” Greco saw her face fall. “The forensic people will do tests. It might be possible for them to tell us where Jamal had been, or what he’d been doing prior to his death,” he explained.

  “You will not find anything. The men who killed Jamal are evil, and they are clever. They trade in misery.”

  “What do you mean, Amani?”

  “Jamal will have been given the clothing you found him in. Apart from his shoes, the rest will tell you nothing.”

  Greco recalled Roxy Atkins saying that his clothing hadn’t fitted properly.

  “His shoes have proved useful,” Grace agreed.

  “Who gave him the clothes he was wearing?” asked Greco.

  “I suspect the men who took him. He was kept prisoner.”

  “Do you know who they were? Their names, or where we can find them?”

  “No,” she told Greco. “But Jamal was terrified. When he first came to England he was brought here to Brighton. The men who brought him got him a job in a hotel. He was told to stay put and not to tell people who he was or where he’d come from. But he rang me. I was living with a friend in London. I came here and found work to be near Jamal. We saw each other. He was okay, earning a little money, and he had somewhere to live. But then one day he rang me. He told me that the men were taking him away. He said there was no way he could escape because they were watching him. If he tried to run, they would kill him. He wanted me to help him, but there was nothing I could do.”

  “Do you have other family in the UK?” asked Greco.

  “No. I have been in the UK for one year only. My friends in London helped me to find this job in Brighton. The pay is not good, but I get a room upstairs and no one asks awkward questions. It will do for now.”

  Greco wondered if that meant she was here illegally but he wasn’t going to ask her.

  “Did Jamal say anything about where these men were taking him?”

  “He said Manchester, but he could give me no address.”

  “Couldn’t he get help? Speak to someone, tell them what was going on?” asked Grace.

  “That was not possible. The men were always with him. Jamal was here illegally. If he went to the authorities he would have been sent back. Our village has been razed to the ground. There is nothing left for him, nothing for anyone. Before he was brought here he’d lived for five months in the camp at Calais. He was only seventeen years old. I tried then to get him to the UK, so that he could join me in London. But I have no money. Jamal was ill. That place is not fit for children. He was desperate, and so was I. When he was offered the chance of work here in Brighton, he took it.”

  “Where is your home, Amani?” asked Grace.

  “My family is in Syria. But it is not safe to return. When the soldiers came to our village, they took Jamal and his friends. For weeks we did not know what had happened to him, even if he was still alive. We were desperate. Then we learned he was in France. I don’t know how, but he made it across the Turkish border. Soon after he got a lift in a truck belonging to an Eastern European man. For a fee he dropped him in Calais. Our family was relieved, but they hadn’t seen what conditions are like there. I was already living in the UK so our parents begged me to arrange for Jamal to come here too. But I couldn’t do that without money.”

  “So how exactly did he get here?”

  “The man who dropped him in Calais arranged it. He is often in the camp. Jamal told me that he regularly brought people to the UK. But he wanted young, fit men only. Those who could work and were healthy.”

  “Did you or Jamal have to pay him?” asked Grace.

  “No, and that surprised me. Despite asking for money to bring him from Turkey, all he wanted in return for taking Jamal across the channel was a blood sample. Then he had to wait a few days to see if he had been chosen. They have brought many young men here to the UK this way. Now I know why.” She sighed deeply. “They are brought here to work, to work until they drop.”

  Grace looked at Greco. “How do they travel here from Calais?”

  “In lorries. Jamal told me that the one he travelled in was big and safe. They leave from Calais and take the ferry to Dover. He did not tell me much but the lorries are adapted so that the young men can remain hidden. They were given food and water during the journey. The man and his friends have been doing this for months. They have brought dozens of boys across in this way.”

  Greco’s face was grim. It was possible that they’d bribed someone at Border Control in Dover to let them through. “What happens to the boys when they arrive in England?”

  “I don’t know. They work all over the country. Jamal said it depended on the test results.”

  “The blood test?” Greco thought this odd. He’d supposed cold, hard cash was the only criteria.

  “Yes, and once they are here there are other medical tests, to check that they are healthy I guess. Then they are found jobs. Jamal was lucky, he was brought here to Brighton. Some of the others were sent to work in a factory in London. For a while we were okay. I saw Jamal often. But then the men wanted more tests. The man who’d brought him here wanted him to go to Manchester. Jamal rang me three times. The first time he told me what had happened to him. He sounded fine, said he’d be back. But the second time he was terrified. He said the whole thing was about getting the boys here to become nothing more than slaves, but that it was even worse for him. I didn’t know what he meant. I wanted him to tell me everything but Jamal said they would kill me if I knew. He didn’t know what would happen to him. Several days went by before I heard from him again. The last time we spoke he was crying. He told me that they were going to kill him. He asked me for money to hel
p him get away. I asked him about the job. Jamal said that there was no job. The man who took him said it was for something far more important.” She fell silent. “I never spoke to Jamal again.”

  “Do you know what that important something was?”

  She shook her head.

  “Why are you so frightened, Amani?” Greco asked gently.

  “Because a man came here to the restaurant, looking for Jamal. He was not a nice man. He hurt me.” She showed them a bruise on her lower right arm. “I told him Jamal wasn’t here, but he didn’t believe me.”

  “Did you go to the police, ask for help?”

  She looked at Grace. “No, they can’t help. If I get into trouble they will send me home.”

  “You’re not in trouble, Amani,” Greco assured her. “We want to find the person that killed your brother.” He paused. “Jamal is not the only young man who has died. Another youth has been murdered in the same way. Do you have any idea who he might be?”

  The young woman shook her head. “Jamal never mentioned any names.”

  “Can you describe the man who came here and threatened you?” asked Grace.

  “Marco, he serves in the bar, said he had a Northern accent. He was a big man. His stomach stuck out. When he got angry, his face went red.”

  Could be anyone, but Greco had an idea. That description fitted Tony Rouse. “Can you recall exactly what date this was?” He’d noticed the CCTV camera above the counter.

  “Four days ago. It was about four thirty in the afternoon.”

  “I’d like to speak to Marco.”

  Amani nodded. “I’ll get him.”

  Grace waited until she was out of the room. “What are you thinking?”

  “Tony Rouse. The CCTV will help confirm it. We’ll need to speak to the local force.”

  Greco took his mobile from his jacket pocket and tapped in Joel Hough’s number. “Joel, will you text me a photo of Tony Rouse as quick as you can.”

  “If Amani recognises him, what then?”

  “If she does, it means Rouse knows a lot more than he’s told us. That he knew who Jamal was all along. Rouse could easily become our prime suspect.”

  Amani returned with Marco in tow. “We have CCTV but we don’t keep the recordings for long, a couple of days, no more. So the day you are interested in is gone, I’m afraid.”

  At that moment Greco’s mobile pinged. “Is this the man?” He showed them both the image.

  Amani Ali cast a wary glance at Marco and nodded. “Yes, that is the man.” Marco echoed her words.

  “Thanks,” Greco told them. “We know this individual.” He looked at Amani. “He won’t bother you again.”

  “Will you speak to me again?” she asked.

  “Probably tomorrow. Will you be here?”

  Amani nodded.

  Greco and Grace walked out into the square.

  Greco was frowning. “Rouse was chasing a story. More than likely, one about illegal immigrants. What Amani told us about the boys is worrying.”

  “We’ve stumbled into something big and nasty, haven’t we? In fact, if we’re not careful, we could become targets ourselves.”

  Greco looked at Grace. The expression on her face told him she wasn’t joking, and she was right. “The men who transport from Calais bring some of them here. We need a word with the local force.”

  Chapter 13

  “It’s a line of enquiry we can pursue.” As soon as she returned to the nick, Leah had met with the team.

  Speedy looked doubtful. “People trafficking, ma’am? Is your source sure? Given we’re dealing with the scrotes from the Lansdowne, good old-fashioned drug dealing is a safer bet.”

  “It’s what I’ve been told, Speedy.”

  “So why the Knifeman?”

  “Because Slicer Shaw wants someone new. Someone who’s MO isn’t known to us, is untraceable and can be got rid of once it’s over.”

  “Have you told Greco?” he asked.

  Leah Wells shook her head. “I wanted to bring the team up to speed first.”

  Speedy frowned. “He won’t thank you for keeping him out of the loop.”

  “I’m sure DCI Greco has enough on his plate right now,” she replied tersely.

  “Are you sure your snout knows what he’s on about?”

  “Quite sure. Why, what’s troubling you?”

  “People trafficking. That takes us to a whole new level.”

  “We can’t ignore it.” Speedy’s negative comments were beginning to annoy Leah.

  “What about Slicer wanting to take over from Costello?” Joel Hough asked. “That’ll give us no end of problems if it’s true. We’ll have carnage, and not just on the Lansdowne either.”

  “The problem is, we don’t know who this rival is. We might suspect but we’ve got nothing we can pin on anybody,” Leah replied.

  “If it is true we’ll have evidence soon enough,” Speedy joked.

  “I know that, Speedy. We need to find Rouse. He is the key to this. He knows far more than he’s let on. Anything from forensics?”

  “Not yet,” Joel replied.

  Leah looked at the clock. “It’s getting late. We’ll resume tomorrow. Forensics first thing, Joel. Get uniform to keep an eye on Rouse’s flat too, just in case he goes back there. We have his mobile number — get a list of calls and go through them.”

  “If we go with the trafficking theory, it means the lads are being brought here for a reason,” said Speedy. “We should look at the places they could end up in. Sweatshops, small factories round the backstreets.”

  “This is the right part of town for them,” Joel agreed. “Remember that case last year? A small factory in Beswick producing T-shirts. Full of illegals from China working all hours for nothing but a crust.”

  “Can I have a word before you go?” Leah asked Speedy once the others had left. “Are you up for a visit to Slicer’s club tonight?”

  “With you, ma’am?” he asked, surprised.

  “No, that would look a bit too full on. If Slicer is there he’d spot us straight away. I was thinking you and your young lady.”

  “Okay, won’t do any harm, and Michelle will love it.”

  * * *

  “Where do you want to eat?” Grace asked.

  “I thought back at the hotel.” It hadn’t occurred to Greco that they’d eat anywhere else. “They serve dinner until nine, so there is plenty of time.”

  Grace cocked her head. “Don’t you fancy fish and chips on the pier instead? There’s a bar, we could get a drink too.”

  It loomed ahead of them, a huge rectangular shape that looked almost like it was bouncing in the twilight. It was the last place he wanted to eat. The loud music and garish neon lights grated on his nerves. It smelled strongly of fried donuts and chip fat. “I’ve a couple of calls to make and a deal of thinking to do. But don’t let me stop you,” he replied.

  “An hour won’t hurt, Stephen. It’s been a long, hard day.” Grace took hold of his arm, tugging him along. “What happened to chilling, Greco? Of having a good time for a change?”

  An obvious clash of opinions about what constituted having a good time, Greco thought.

  “I’m fine as I am, Grace.” He looked down at the manicured hand on his lower arm. Why couldn’t he just go with this, relax a bit? Pat was right. Grace was okay. She could be fun to be with, and she was good-looking too. He should be flattered that she put so much effort into winning him over.

  “Okay, the hotel it is then,” she agreed reluctantly. “But after dinner you’re going to help me make a dent in that bottle of vodka I brought with me.”

  He stepped away from her. “Oh no, I am not! We’ve been there before, remember?” Grace giggled. “And I don’t want reminding, thank you.”

  “You got drunk — rare for you, but it loosened your tongue. We talked well into the night as I recall. And you actually laughed a bit before you crashed on my sofa. Nothing happened. You left my place that morning, your virtue intact.�
�� She giggled again. “It was a missed opportunity, though. When I think about what I could have done!” She nudged him. “A quick pic of you in my dressing gown, for example. Where would your credibility be then, newly appointed DCI?” There was a wicked grin on Grace’s face.

  He looked at her in genuine horror. “You didn’t?”

  She folded her arms. “Not telling. But come on the pier with me and eat, and I promise I won’t do anything rash.” She took hold of his hand.

  “I’m not eating fish and chips.”

  “So you say, but you weren’t coming on this pier with me either, a few minutes ago. Now look what’s happened.”

  The planks they were walking on looked dodgy, and Greco could see the water below. “Are you sure this is safe? There are a lot of people on here. Will it take the weight?” The pier was buzzing with activity. They walked past a row of stalls, all selling tatty souvenirs. Grace pulled him into an arcade full of slot machines.

  “Course it’s safe. Want to chance your luck?”

  Greco shook his head. The place was packed. There must be a fortune being spent in here, he thought, and mostly by kids. Grace darted behind one of those boards that you stick your head through to have your photo taken.

  “A witch, how apt,” Greco said, and took a snap of her on his mobile.

  “It’ll be Halloween soon. They have a ‘Fear on the Pier’ event. Shame we won’t be here.”

  He looked at his phone. “I’ve got a missed called from DI Wells. All this noise going on, I didn’t hear it ring.”

  “Never mind her for now. Get your bod back here and I’ll take one of you.”

  She had that look on her face again. Grace wasn’t taking no for an answer tonight. Photos taken, Greco finally rang Leah and spent the next five minutes swapping updates. They both agreed that given what they’d each discovered, they were definitely looking at people trafficking.