“Our officers are out looking for her,” the DCI replied. “Don’t worry.”
“I cannot help worry. I know if they find her, they might…”
DCI Clarke leaned forward. “What might they do, Sofia? And who is it you’re scared of?”
Sofia shook her head. “Is fine. What do you need to know?”
Lesley sat down and gestured for Connie to do the same. Connie gave Sofia a nervous smile as she took her seat. The woman frowned back at her.
“Right.” The DCI placed her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers. “You’ve been offered legal representation but turned it down. Is that correct?”
“I do nothing wrong. I do not need lawyer.”
“As long as you understand that you are entitled to one.”
The woman nodded.
“Detective Inspector Finch found you at the Hotel Belvista. We have reason to believe an organised crime gang is operating out of that hotel. Specifically, that it’s running a prostitution operation and is connected to or behind the attacks on New Street Station and Birmingham Airport on Saturday.”
The woman’s eyes widened. She straightened in her chair.
Lesley opened a file and took out a photo of a pale blue handbag. The woman gasped. Connie watched her; she looked shocked and puzzled.
“My bag. Thank God. Do I get it back?”
The DCI snorted. “It’s evidence in a terror inquiry. So no, you don’t get it back.”
The woman frowned.
“We found this bag at Birmingham Airport, near a gate which had been cut through. We have CCTV images of people leaving the airport from that location and driving away in vans. Were you in one of those vans?”
Sofia nodded. “I look after children.”
Connie felt her stomach hollow out. “Where are they?” she whispered. “Did you hurt them?”
The DCI waved a hand and Connie swallowed.
“Which children are you referring to?” the DCI asked.
“From plane. I was told to bring eight children from plane. I get it wrong, I bring seven. We take them all to my home.”
“Your home is the Belvista hotel?”
“No. Home is…” Sofia blushed. “I do not have address. Is in countryside, near airport.”
“Who do you live with, Sofia?”
“Boyfriend.”
“And did your boyfriend tell you to bring these children home with you?”
“No. He was angry about it. Next morning, children were gone. I think he took them to hotel. Which is where Andreea must have found them.”
“Andreea is your sister.”
“She is. I am scared for her. I saw her Monday night, she wasn’t herself.”
The DCI flattened her hands on the table. She gave the woman a reassuring smile. “The more you can tell us, the better able we will be to protect your sister. Do you have any idea where she is?”
Sofia shook her head. She sniffed and rubbed under her eye. “They say she took children. That is all I know.”
“Who said this?”
“Other women. In hotel.”
“Where are these women now, Sofia?”
“I do not know. They leave in vans. Same vans from airport.”
Lesley turned to Connie to check she was making notes. “Can you describe these vans, please?”
“Black vans. Volkswagen. I remember because my friend Mihai had Volkswagen van in Bucharest.”
“Did you see the registration plates?”
“Sorry.”
“OK.” The DCI turned to Connie. “Give that to Control. They’re looking for two black VW vans with women on board.”
Connie stood up.
The DCI turned back to the woman. She hesitated a moment, leaning back in her chair. Her eyelids fluttered and she took in a sharp breath.
“Ma’am?”
The DCI frowned. “I’m fine, Constable. Sofia, we’re going to pause this interview while we pass on what you’ve told us to other teams. But before we do, can you tell us if you recognise this man?”
She pushed a photo of the man from New Street Station across the table.
“That is Kyle.”
Connie bit her lip.
“Kyle who, Sofia?”
“Sorry. Just Kyle. He drives me places.”
“And how do you know Kyle? Is he your boyfriend?”
“No.” Sofia wrinkled her nose. “He work for him.”
“Who is your boyfriend, Sofia?”
“I call him Titi.”
“Is that his real name?”
“No.”
“What do other people call him, Sofia?”
Connie felt her heart pick up pace.
“Men call him boss. No name. Mrs Brooking, she call him Sir. But his name is Trevor.”
Chapter Eighty-Five
Mo and Fran waited as Mr Eccleston went to fetch his camera. The house was quiet, the only sound the dog snoring on the sofa.
“Here we are,” the man said. “Sorry I haven’t transferred them off my camera yet.” He held out a digital camera.
Mo fiddled with it. “I’m sorry, Mr Eccleston, can you show us how to get to the photos you took on Saturday night?” He didn’t want to accidentally delete anything.
“We can just take the memory card,” Fran said.
“I want to check them first,” Mo told her. She nodded.
“Here.” Mr Eccleston pressed a few buttons and an image showed on the camera’s display. It was the view from the front of the house, the road backed by privet hedges. Behind the hedges was a faint glow.
“You were taking photos of a terror attack?” Fran asked.
The man blushed. “I thought they might be useful for the police.”
Mo raised an eyebrow. “How come you didn’t tell us about these before?”
“I’ve been away. I was visiting my mother from Sunday to yesterday.”
“So you haven’t spoken to any of our officers?”
“Just you.”
Mo held out the camera. “Take us through the rest of the photos, please. Be extra careful not to delete any.”
“Don’t worry, you have to hit three buttons before the damn thing’ll let you remove them.” The man took the camera and started scrolling though pictures.
“Slow down,” Mo told him. “And let us see.” He shuffled next to Eccleston to get a better view. On the sofa, the dog stretched and yawned.
“Sorry,” Mr Eccleston said. He pressed the button to advance to the next photo and waited.
“You don’t have to wait. Just move between the photos slowly and stop if I ask you to.”
The photos advanced. The photographer had moved towards the airport and the view was no longer from the front of his house. Advancing through the photos was like watching a stop-motion film of the route from here towards the gate that had been cut though.
“You think they got through the gate at the end of the road? That’s how they did it?” the man asked.
“Carry on with the photos, please,” Mo told him.
As the images neared the gate, the glow shifted to the left of the shot and became brighter. The plane was ablaze now, and the photographer was approaching it.
“Did you go as far as the airport?” Mo asked, hoping the man hadn’t decided to trespass in search of better shots.
“No,” he said. “There were vans blocking the way.” He scrolled forwards until two vans appeared in shot, each parked at right angles to the gate and the road.
Mo felt Fran tense next to him. “That’s them,” she breathed.
He nodded. “Keep going,” he said, his eyes on the camera. They would need to take the memory card to the station and get these blown up.
The vans receded as the photographer moved backwards, away from them.
“You backed off,” Mo said.
“I heard shouting, in a foreign language. I didn’t want to get involved.”
“Did you recognise the language?”
“No idea. S
orry.”
The sound of barking came from another room. “That’s Ella. I need to let her back in. D’you mind?”
“We won’t take up much more of your time.”
The man sniffed and sped up, scrolling through the rest of his photos.
“How many did you take?” Fran asked.
“My camera’s got an auto setting. Means you don’t miss the best shot. About two hundred, I suppose.”
“How did you get such clear shots at dusk?”
“I upped the ISO. Makes things a bit grainy, but good enough if you balance it with the shutter speed.” He continued scrolling through the photos.
“Stop,” said Mo.
“Hmm?”
“Pause the photos right there.”
The sound of barking intensified. “I really need to let her in. Mrs Barrow next door, she complains…”
“Fine,” said Mo. “Leave the camera with us.” He took it off Eccleston and held it gingerly.
“It’s that button there,” said Fran.
“I know.” Mo pressed it and the photos advanced, more slowly this time.
The vans turned in the road, heading towards the photographer. As they approached, the angle shifted as if the photographer were moving out of the road, standing aside. The photos continued, the front van filling more and more of the image.
Mo held his breath. The registration plates were indecipherable on this screen, but they’d be able to get them back at the office.
As the van passed the photographer, the angle changed again, the lens pointing into the vehicle. A man sat in the front seat of the first one, his eyes ahead on the road. “How come they didn’t stop and take his camera?” Fran said.
“Maybe they didn’t notice him. It looks like they had enough on their hands at the time.”
Mr Eccleston returned with a second Labrador on a short lead. He hoisted the lead and led the dog to the sofa where it joined its companion. He eyed the camera. “Everything OK?”
“Fine.” said Mo. He flicked to the next shot. “We’ll need to keep this,” he said.
Eccleston sniffed. “You will return it? I’ve got a trip to Morocco coming up.”
“We’ll return the camera once we’ve copied the contents of the drive.” Mo passed the camera to Fran, who looked at the screen then back at him.
In the photo, the man in the van faced the photographer, a frown on his face. His face was clearly distinguishable. He had thinning red hair and narrow eyes.
“Let’s go,” said Mo.
Chapter Eighty-Six
Zoe jumped out of her car and ran after Ian towards the group of people at the bus stop. She held up her warrant card.
“Force CID,” she told the two uniformed officers at the edge of the crowd. “This woman’s connected with an investigation.”
“What do you need us to do?” asked one of the officers, a young woman.
“Make sure she doesn’t get away. Get those kids. We need to take them to safety.”
“They’re on the bus,” replied the other officer, an older man.
“OK. Ian, you go with PC” – she eyed the male officer’s badge – “PC Hines here, round up the kids and find somewhere safe for them to wait. We’ll need a van to take them to the station.”
“Boss.” Ian rounded the crowd and made for the bus, PC Hines at his heels.
“Right,” Zoe said, turning to the female officer. “PC Ellers. The woman’s name is Andreea Pichler. I’m expecting her to run. We have to corner her, get her into your car. OK?”
“Ma’am.”
“You go that way.”
PC Ellers nodded and started to circle the crowd. At its centre, a man with thick grey hair was shouting at Andreea. She screamed back at him in Romanian. A middle-aged woman carrying a briefcase was trying to intervene, to talk to both of them.
Zoe approached Andreea, who hadn’t spotted her. She stared at the man, her eyes full of fear and hatred. He spat back at her, telling her to fuck off home.
Zoe looked across the crowd to see PC Ellers opposite her. To Zoe’s right was the bus, a barrier. As long as Andreea didn’t manage to push through the crowd, they’d be able to grab her.
If Andreea was grabbed by police, the grey-haired man would feel vindicated. The thought left a bad taste in Zoe’s mouth. She’d have to leave the two constables to deal with him.
Andreea was just a few feet away. She was thin, with black hair that spilled over her eyes. She wore a long shirt at least two sizes too large with ripped jeans. Her skin was pale and there were bruises on her wrists.
Zoe was about to lunge for her when a car screeched past the bus and came to a halt in front of it. Someone at the edge of the crowd screamed and Andreea’s gaze shifted from the grey-haired man to the car.
A man got out of the car. Andreea’s eyes widened and she pushed the grey-haired man back, sending him staggering into the crowd. The man from the car ran though, pushing people aside to get at Andreea.
The man was short, with ruddy skin and thin red hair. If he was part of the organised crime gang, she hadn’t come across him before.
The bus door opened and Ian stepped out, a girl aged about twelve behind him. She was crying. Andreea looked round at the girl, then Ian, then back at the man from the car. She yelled something in Romanian, leaped over the grey-haired man, now on the ground, and ran.
“PC Ellers!” Zoe cried as she sped after Andreea. The young woman dashed past the bus and across the road, heading away from the car. The man jumped back into it and revved the engine.
Zoe picked up pace, arms and legs pumping to catch up with Andreea. Andreea ran diagonally across the road, making for the main road beyond. PC Ellers was ahead of Zoe, talking into her radio as she ran.
At the junction Andreea paused and looked from side to side. The road was quiet. She turned right and continued running. The car reached the junction and threw itself round the corner, chasing her.
Without turning, Andreea ran out into the road. A bus appeared, coming the other way. She stared at it: her escape.
The car accelerated.
“Stop!” PC Ellers shouted. She stood on the pavement, gesticulating at Andreea who was halfway across the road.
Andreea turned to see where the voice had come, just as the car reached her. She screamed.
“No!” Zoe ran after her, joining PC Ellers in the road. Andreea had disappeared behind the car.
As they reached the car, PC Ellers placed a hand on its rear wing. The car revved again and sped away, leaving Andreea lying in the road.
Chapter Eighty-Seven
“You drive,” Mo said. “I need to make a call.”
Fran nodded and got into the driver’s seat. They drove away from the airport as Mo dialled Sheila Griffin.
“Mo, how are you getting on?”
“We’ve got a photo of a man who was driving one of the vans on Saturday. Leaving the airport.”
“D’you recognise him?”
“I was hoping you might. Where are you?”
“I’m at the Hotel Belvista,” Sheila said. “Can you send it to me?”
Mo put the camera in his lap and took a snap of the photo with his phone. He emailed it to Sheila.
Five minutes later they were on the Coventry Road and his phone rang: Sheila.
“That’s Adam Fulmer,” she said. “He was one of our targets on Canary. Disappeared about four months ago, we figured he’d gone abroad.”
Mo thumbed through the rest of the photos. In the back of the van were blurred figures he couldn’t make out. Women, children, or both?
“He was driving a van away from the broken gate at the airport on Saturday,” he told her. “We believe the missing women and children were inside. Where can we find him?”
“Last we saw of him was last September, in Curton Road,” she said. “And that’s still empty.”
“Damn.” Mo exchanged a look of frustration with Fran. They were driving through Small Heath, heading back to the
office.
“I’ll see if I can find any evidence of him having been here,” Sheila said.
“Give me the address.”
Sheila told him where the hotel was and Mo gestured for Fran to turn around when she could.
“I’ll see you there,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up outside the hotel. Ian’s car was in the driveway along with Adi’s Skoda and a couple of others he didn’t recognise.
Mo got out of the car while Fran found a parking spot further down the road. He found Adi in an office to the right of the entrance, piling files into boxes.
“DS Uddin.” Adi smiled. “You got Zoe with you?”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“Only I’ve got something for her.”
“You can give it to me.”
“I think this one is just for her.”
Mo narrowed his eyes at the forensics manager. Adi liked to play favourites among the detectives, especially the female ones. “Just tell me, please.”
“Sorry. Way too sensitive. She send you?”
“No. I’m meeting DS Griffin here.”
Adi shook his head. “Haven’t seen her, sorry. She might be that-a-way” – he gestured behind him – “there’s another office”.
“Have you found evidence of women and children being kept here?” Mo asked.
Adi nodded. “Zoe found an envelope full of passports. And we’ve got plenty that they left behind. They were in a hurry this time.”
Mo showed Adi the camera. “I’m looking for this man. Any evidence of him being here? His name’s Adam Fulmer.”
“Nothing here, sorry. But we’ll keep looking.”
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Zoe fell to the ground, placing her fingertips on the side of Andreea’s neck. She lifted her hand, willing her own heartbeat to stop thudding in her ears.
PC Ellers was behind her, talking into her radio.
“Urgent ambulance required, and vehicles to pursue a dark blue Lexus.” She read out the registration number of the car.
Zoe eased Andreea onto her back. The bus that had been approaching when Andreea ran across the road had stopped a few feet away, cars lining up behind it. The driver got out.
Deadly Terror (Detective Zoe Finch Book 4) Page 24
