Cautiously, he approached the gates. They were high, but not insurmountable. The only problem he could foresee was if there were any hidden cameras angled at the gates recording his movements. Did he have the bottle to attempt to climb them? Nope! I don’t.
He decided to go home and write up the story. A story that his boss was either going to praise him or sack him for in the morning when he placed it on his desk.
Chapter Seven
Lorne read the article in the national newspaper, her mouth dropping open in horror. She’d had dealings with this particular journalist over the years and hadn’t liked him one bit, but something about the way he’d had the balls to write the story others had so far avoided made her admire his courage.
“What’s that, love?” Tony asked as he came down for breakfast. After flicking the switch on the kettle, he sat down beside her at the table.
Lorne handed him the paper without saying a word.
Tony was quiet for several minutes, absorbed in the story, until he let out an ear-splitting whistle. “He’s either very brave, or bloody stupid.”
“For running the story?”
Tony glanced up at her. “Er…yeah. Do you know this reporter guy?”
“I’ve had certain dealings with him in the past. Pete used to call him ‘the Ferret.’ He never liked to leave a stone unturned on a story. The dirtier the details, the better, as far as he was concerned. He used to hound me for days trying to be the first to get the scoop on some of the nastier cases I had to deal with at the Met.” Tony’s expression turned thoughtful, prompting Lorne to ask, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Think about it. The other day, you were asking me about my contacts in MI6. Now it looks to me like this guy has his finger firmly on the pulse of this story.”
“I couldn’t get in touch with him.”
Tony shrugged. “Not sure you have any other options left open to you. So far, Katy hasn’t come up with much to go on. It’s all been hush-hush from her end, which to me stinks of something.”
Lorne frowned. “A coverup?”
“Maybe. Look at all the high profile people who were connected with Charlie’s case. All those dignitaries intent on getting their end away with those unfortunate teenage girls. What happened to the filthy bastards? Nothing, absolutely fuck all. Even though we had CCTV evidence to prove they attended that ‘auction of human flesh,’ the bastards got away with it, as usual.”
Heat erupted through her veins at the thought of dirty old men getting away with treating young girls in such a deplorable way. It seemed the more corrupt you were, the easier life became. Perhaps Tony had a point about using Croft. He obviously had good contacts at his disposal to get the inside take on this story.
Tony interrupted her thoughts to add, “Go on, swallow your pride and give him a call. Between us, I think we could make a difference. If we all tackled this case as individuals, we could get in each other’s way and these guys could get away with it for years to come. Let’s try and put this gang out of action, at least. What do you say?”
Lorne’s indecision didn’t hang around for long. “Okay, you win!” She left the kitchen and walked into the lounge, she picked up the phone and dialled the number on the card she had retrieved from her handbag. “Derek?” It shocked her to hear him answer after only one ring.
“Yep, who’s this?”
“Umm…Lorne Warner…er…I guess you’d remember me as Simpkins, though.”
“Well what do you know? The great Simpkins ringing me for a change, who’d have thunk it?”
His attitude hadn’t changed one iota since she’d last dealt with him. He always came across as cocksure and arrogant. She kept calm in spite of wanting to hang up and end the conversation before it had begun. The guy was a creep, but she needed him, as he seemed to be the only one with any answers. “I was wondering if we could meet up for a chat?”
He laughed. “A chat, you say. I wonder what that could be about—the price of groceries skyrocketing since the recession started? Nah, not your style, Simpkins, is it?”
“Cut the crap, Croft. You know what about. I’m not going to beg. Yes or no?”
Amusement filling his voice, he said, “Ahh, you’re interested in the case I’ve blown wide open, I take it.”
Lorne clenched her free hand a few times before she responded. “I just think we could be of service to each other, if you’re willing to give it a shot.” There was silence on the other end of the line, something that Lorne hadn’t expected. “Are you still there, Croft?”
“I’m here. Name the time and place and I’ll be there. I’m pretty flexible, as you know; during work hours or after it makes no odds to me.”
Lorne quickly ran through in her mind what she had planned for the rest of the day, and decided the best option would be to meet in town somewhere after work. “What about this evening, about seven-ish?”
“Suits me. Where?”
“I’m kind of out of touch; your choice.”
“Okay, the wine bar on Kilburn High Street—how does that sound?” Croft said.
Like a very long trip for me, but what the heck. “Sounds great. See you then.”
“Look forward to it, Lorne.” His smarmy tone and the way he said her name left her feeling cold. Little did the Ferret know that Tony would be at the meeting, as well. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Croft’s face when she turned up with her husband in tow.
Lorne hung up and shuddered as she stepped back into the kitchen. “Eww…he’s such a creep. I have a feeling we’re going to live to regret this.”
Tony sniggered. “What did he say?”
“I didn’t go into detail; I just asked him to meet me. I didn’t mention you’d be there, of course. Shit, you are going to be there, aren’t you? I don’t think I could handle meeting him by myself.”
“Don’t fret, I’ll be there. When and where are we meeting up?”
Lorne blew out the breath she had been holding. “Seven o’clock tonight, in Kilburn.”
Her father came into the kitchen. “What’s that, love?”
Lorne hesitated before mentioning the rendezvous, unsure of what her father’s reaction would be. “Tony and I have a meeting in town this evening, Dad.”
“What type of meeting?”
Lorne glanced over at her husband for help, but received none. “We’re having a drink with a journalist about the possible trafficking case down in Kent.”
“Why?” her father asked, looking puzzled.
Lorne sat down heavily in the nearest chair. “Because we need to act on this quickly, while these guys are still in the area.”
“Fair enough.” Her father’s words surprised her. Then he changed the subject, which surprised her even more. “What’s for dinner tonight? If you two are going out, I can fix myself something, it’s no bother.”
“I’ll get out a couple of lamb chops for you and peel some veg before we go, if that’s all right.”
Her father gave a slight nod and seemed happy with her choice. He turned around and left the kitchen, heading back to his bedroom.
“Well, that was weird,” she said after hearing his door close. “I expected him to kick up a fuss. He hates journalists more than I hate black pudding.”
“Maybe he has other things on his mind.”
Hmm…like what?
Chapter Eight
The drive into London went easier than expected; Lorne surmised that maybe partygoers stayed away from the City during the week and let rip only at the weekend. However, when they finally located the wine bar where Lorne had arranged to meet Croft, it was bustling with activity. Lorne scanned the dozens of full tables, and after a few seconds made eye contact with Croft. The Ferret had burrowed himself into a dark corner at the back of the bar—was that on purpose? As they approached his table, Lorne watched the smile on his face slip and give way to a scowl when he saw Tony walking behind her.
“Derek.”
“Lorne. Who’s
this? I thought we’d be meeting alone,” Croft said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“Sorry, did I forget to mention that I’d be bringing along my partner? Tony Warner, meet journalist Derek Croft.”
Neither of the men held out a hand to shake the other’s, and Croft eyed Tony with caution. The Ferret felt trapped. Lorne pushed down a snigger that was threatening to escape.
“Partner in what, exactly? I heard you left the Met a couple of years ago.”
“Ah, in a few things, actually. In life as well as two businesses, one of which is a private investigation firm.”
Croft cracked a smile. “For real? Like Magnum P.I. type of thing?”
Lorne shrugged. “If you like. Right, enough of the small talk. Let’s get down to it, shall we?”
“Yeah, I’m dying to know why you rang me. Although, things are starting to lock into place now.”
“I read your article on the human trafficking incident you witnessed the other day. How did you get away with writing a story like that, Derek?”
“My contact on the street told me it was going down, so I ran it past my boss and he told me to get on it.”
Tony asked, “You do know the type of people you’re dealing with here, don’t you?”
Croft looked at Tony as if he’d just escaped from an asylum. He pointed his thumb in Tony’s direction and asked Lorne, “Is he for real?”
Lorne’s hand instinctively sought out Tony’s wrist to prevent him giving Croft a bop on the nose. “It was a serious question, Derek. Do you know who you’re dealing with?”
“Yeah. Scum! Scum of the earth. That’s why I intend bringing the fuckers down.”
“That’s commendable of you, but also more than a tad foolish,” Lorne said, smiling at him.
“Yeah I know, but needs must. Why are you so interested in the case anyway?”
“I’m not. No, that’s a lie. I’m interested in finding out a little more about what you know, but basically I’m more interested in a different case. I have an inkling that the two cases are probably connected.”
“Not sure I’m following you,” Croft said.
“The ship that capsized at the beginning of the week—my instincts tell me that we’re looking at a human trafficking operation. It’s yet to be confirmed, of course, but—”
“But you have firsthand experience in such cases, and your antenna is urging you to get involved,” he finished the sentence for her.
Lorne laughed. “You know, Derek, for a hard-nosed journo writing a load of bullshit most of the time, you can be quite perceptive when you want to be.”
“Yeah, I have many different faces. I’m kinda like you in that respect.”
Lorne knew he wasn’t insulting her and that his assumption was accurate enough; at least it used to be, when she was on the force. Not so much nowadays, but if the need arose, then she could and would easily revert back to her old ways. “You’re probably right. What do you say, then? Are you willing to pool our information to crack the case?”
He drifted off for a second or two as he thought over her plan. “It depends.”
“On what, exactly?” Lorne asked. He smirked, and an unwelcome shiver ran up her spine. Despite his boyish good looks, there was something intensely creepy about Croft. However, she’d already decided that she would be willing to put aside her uneasiness in order to get the information she needed.
“On what information you’ve got. So far, I think my contacts have come up with a lot, but like I said, it depends what you can throw into the pot.”
“I’m waiting on a couple of calls. I’m not willing to divulge what I have so far—” She stopped talking and her mouth dropped open when Croft thrust out of his chair and headed for the door. What the fuck was that all about?
Tony was the first out of his chair, with Lorne close behind him. They caught up with the Ferret, who had set off like a greyhound in the car park outside. Croft made it to his car and had inserted the key in the driver’s door before they caught up with him. Annoyed that the journalist had walked out on them mid-conversation, Tony pinned Croft against the side of his car, and Lorne did nothing to stop her husband.
“Get your filthy hands off me,” Croft said, more out of shock than anger.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to walk out when someone is talking to you?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow and his forearm tight across Croft’s throat.
“Fuck off. We’re here to swap information, so far that ain’t happening, is it?” Croft managed to say through a restricted windpipe.
Tony jabbed him in the stomach with a clenched fist. Croft coughed and spluttered, glancing at Lorne for help. She folded her arms and stared back at him. “Did I forget to mention that Tony is ex-MI6? Silly me. Shall we try and start this meeting again in a calm and friendly manner? What do you say, Croft?”
“Call the gorilla off, and I’ll think about it.”
Lorne noticed a tremble had developed in Croft’s voice. She nodded for Tony to let go of him. Croft straightened his jacket and rubbed his throat with his hand.
“Why don’t we sit in your car and finish our conversation?”
Croft glared at Tony as he spoke. “On one condition. He sits up front with me where I can keep an eye on him.”
“I can do that,” Tony replied with a grin.
Croft pressed the button on his key fob and the car unlocked with a clunk. The three of them got in, the two men in the front and Lorne behind the passenger seat so Croft could talk directly to her without wondering what she was up to behind his back.
Lorne started the conversation off. “If you had let me finish, I was going to say that I’m not willing to divulge what I have at the moment because things are a little sketchy and I wouldn’t want to muddy the water.”
“Ah, then that’s different. Sorry for any misunderstanding.”
Lorne smiled at Croft, appreciating his apology. “Have you had any feedback from anyone about the story you ran?”
Croft laughed. “By ‘feedback,’ I take it you mean threatening calls. Yeah, I’ve had a couple of those. Which only goes to prove that I’m on to something big.”
“I’d say you’ve more than rattled a few cages. Can I ask why you ran the story? Naming names the way you did?”
“To be honest, I was in a no-win situation—either I ran the story, or my boss was going to fire me.”
Tony whistled. “Nice boss. So now your life is permanently in danger.”
Croft’s nose screwed up. “I wouldn’t say that. I can deal with these guys. I’ve dealt with scummier dirtbags than these over the years.”
Lorne couldn’t believe the naïvety of the man. “What kind of threats have they issued? I take it we’re talking about over the phone?” Croft nodded, so Lorne continued, “Were the calls to your mobile or your landline?”
“Both,” he said, and shrugged as though it didn’t bother him.
“Have you noticed anyone following you?”
Croft shook his head. “You worry too much. I’ll be fine. Once the police have rounded these dirtbags up and locked them away, things will be cool again.”
“You really don’t have a clue how these things work, do you? Mess with one guy, and he has a whole army of men under him. I doubt very much if you’ll ever bring down the top man, because one of his soldiers will always put himself forward to take the rap—at a cost, of course. He and his family will be taken care of until the day he’s released from prison. We’re talking a multi-billion dollar business here, and as we all know, money talks.”
“Nah, you’re wrong. The names I’ve been given are small fry.”
“You’ve not listened to a word my wife has said, have you?” Tony shook his head and sneered at the Ferret.
Croft thought about this for a few seconds before a light bulb appeared to spark to life in his brain. “So what you’re saying is that we need to find out who the organ grinder is to the operation.”
At last, th
e penny drops and you call yourself an investigative journalist. “What’s happening next on your end?”
“I don’t understand,” Croft said, perplexed.
“Are you supposed to be running a followup story? Have you been back to the warehouse where you saw the girls being unloaded to see if there has been any more activity?” Lorne asked, letting out a heavy breath.
“Well, Moon—that’s my boss—wants me to run another story at the end of next week. It’s Thursday today, and he wants the next installment on his desk seven days from now, at the latest, ready for Friday’s edition.”
“Where do you get your information?” Lorne asked him.
He tapped his nose and winked at her. “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? It’s accurate, that’s all you need to know.”
Before either Lorne or Tony could question him further, the sound of screeching tyres filled the car. Lorne had just turned to look out of the back window when she felt the impact. Shouting broke out inside the vehicle as it was forced forward. The black tinted windows of the four-by-four blocked out the identity of their attacker. Everything appeared to happen in slow motion, until the front of Croft’s car connected with the rear wall of the wine bar. The last thing Lorne heard was a sickening crunch.
Lorne had no idea how long she’d been unconscious, a man’s scream jolted her awake. “What the…?”
The inside of the car was dimly lit by the streetlight to the left of them, and the first thing that caught her eye was the way the bonnet of the car had concertinaed and was now positioned halfway up the windscreen. She looked at Croft; he had blood running down his face from a wound on his forehead. He was less concerned about his own injuries, though, and was frantically pointing to the passenger seat. Scared, Lorne leaned forward and frantically shook her husband’s shoulder. “Tony?”
He mumbled something under his breath as he came around, but she couldn’t make out what it was. Then she broke the silence in the car by laughing like a demented dog. It wasn’t long before Tony realised what she was laughing at and joined in.
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