DARK TRADE a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by Helen H. Durrant

  “In that case, we should bring Rouse in. Perhaps a formal interview will loosen his tongue. Perhaps it was what you said, Rouse was looking to buy drugs and the boy couldn’t oblige.”

  Greco wasn’t sure. They needed more on the lad, his name, and where he’d come from. He caught a glimpse of the office clock. “We’ll leave it until tomorrow now. It’s getting on.”

  “Should get off myself. I tend to lean on my mum a bit too much where Holly is concerned. Not that Holly minds, she can wrap my mum around her little finger. You’re lucky, having Pat living in. Bit like having a live-in nanny. Bet she’s a good cook too.”

  “She is, but I don’t think of Pat as a nanny. She’s my aunt — my father’s sister. She’s always been someone I could trust.”

  “Wish I had a live-in somebody. Mum’s great, but it would make life a lot simpler.”

  Greco was gathering his stuff together, getting ready to leave.

  Grace stood watching him, arms folded. “Leah’s a bit of a closed book. I haven’t heard her make one comment about her private life. Odd, don’t you think?”

  “Not really,” Greco replied. “She simply values her privacy. Can’t say I blame her.”

  “Come off it, Stephen. Being in here is like living in a goldfish bowl. Things happen, as you well know. We all get involved, try to help, be there for each other. That’s why it works so well.”

  “She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

  “Do you fancy going across the road for a drink? Kids will wait for another half an hour.”

  Greco was wondering what excuse to make when the phone rang. It was the desk downstairs.

  “We’ve had a call, sir,” the duty sergeant told him. “In response to the photo of that murdered lad you released. A young woman has been on. She gave me her number and asked if you’d ring her back.”

  “Did she say if she knew him?”

  “Yes, she does. But she wouldn’t say how or give her name. She left her number and asked if the investigating officer would ring her back. She was at work, and couldn’t talk. She had an accent, sir.”

  This sounded like the break they needed. A name for the victim. More information from Rouse, and they might get somewhere. Greco shouted across to Grace as she made for the door. “We’ve had a response to the press release! A woman, not English. With any luck she’ll know who he is.”

  Grace hung back, waiting, as he dialled the number.

  A woman answered, speaking slowly, pronouncing every word with care.

  “DCI Greco, East Manchester CID. You know who the young man is?”

  “He is my brother,” she replied simply.

  Greco spoke softly. “I’m very sorry. It must have been a shock, seeing his photo plastered across the media like that.”

  “I have been worried about him for weeks.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Jamal Ali.”

  “The photo wasn’t very good. You’re sure?”

  “Yes. I can’t speak now. We must meet. There are things about Jamal that you must know if you are to catch his killer. You will have to come here. I can’t travel.”

  “No problem. Where are you?”

  “I am in Brighton. I have work in a restaurant,” she replied.

  “Brighton!” Greco repeated.

  “I’m sorry. It is a long way from where you are. But you must come. I can’t get away. It is too dangerous for me. I think I’m being watched.”

  “Are you in danger?”

  “I have friends here. They look after me.” Nonetheless, she sounded nervous.

  “What is your name?”

  “Amani Ali. You will come tomorrow?”

  Greco was thinking. It was very short notice, but she could have vital information. “Tomorrow, then. I’ll ring you when I arrive.”

  “What was that all about?” asked Grace.

  “A woman, Amani Ali. Says she’s his sister.” He wrote the name ‘Jamal Ali’ on the board under the photo. “She gave me a name. She wants to talk to us urgently. Problem is, she’s in Brighton.”

  Grace shook her head, then her expression brightened. “Nothing’s ever simple, is it? But on the plus side, I like Brighton, it’s fun. I’ve been a few times. Great for kids.”

  Ignoring her, Greco picked up the office phone and dialled McCabe. One quick update later and it was settled. McCabe wanted him to go, but not on his own.

  Greco turned to Grace. “Seeing as how you know the place, do you want to come with me?” Her face lit up. “McCabe thinks she might say more to a woman, be more at ease. I can’t take Leah, she’s needed here to steer the case.”

  “So I’m second best?” Grace folded her arms and stared at him. “You’re taking me because you have no choice?”

  She said the words lightly, but Greco knew that’s how she saw it. “It’s not like that, Grace. It’s work.” He’d no idea what was going on in her head, but her attitude towards their relationship was bothering him more and more.

  She smiled. “I’m only joking, Stephen. A short break in Brighton will do me good.”

  “It’s not a holiday.”

  “We won’t be working 24/7. There is always the night life, if we have to stay over.” She winked at him.

  “We will drive down and stay at least one night. Can you arrange things in time? I’m thinking of Holly and your mum.” He wasn’t going to be drawn into a discussion about how they’d spend any spare time.

  “Mum’ll be fine about it. But forget about that drink, I’ve got too much to do. Case to pack.” She smiled.

  “We’ll take turns with the driving,” said Greco. “I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow morning.”

  * * *

  Mickey ran his finger over the cold, hard metal. The bloke in Trojan House had come up with the goods. One Glock pistol, with silencer and a box of ammunition. The lot for a grand. The decision now — who to kill?

  It had to be someone connected to Slicer. Someone close. Mickey hadn’t been around the guy long enough to work out who his inner circle was. Certainly the driver, he was always at his back. The mark first. The driver would be there, making sure the job was done right. The driver it was, then. Keep things simple. Mickey would take him out on the estate once they got back. It would put suspicion elsewhere. Once Mickey started the whispers, the police would chalk it up to an escalation of the gang war. Slicer would blame Costello.

  Mickey stashed the Glock in the inside pocket of his hoodie, and the blade in a pocket of his oversized combats. The meet was on Openshaw High Street. The driver would take them both to the pub car park in Chorlton. Once it was done, he’d drive them back.

  It was a short walk across the estate, and out onto Gorton Road. Picking up the pace, he made it to the meet in a matter of minutes. He was in no mood for conversation. Slipping into the passenger seat, the killer sat silent and sullen.

  The driver looked at him and chuckled. “What’s this? You psyching yourself up? Is this how you get in the zone? The killing zone.” He laughed. “Wish I could be so cool. I’m a bag of nerves before a hit. That’s why I was so glad when Slicer found you.”

  Mickey hunkered down lower in his seat.

  “Got no conversation, kid? Come on. It’s a good fifteen minutes’ drive to Chorlton. Entertain me.”

  “Get stuffed.”

  The driver laughed and turned the radio up loud. He spent the rest of the journey singing his head off to the music. Mickey was sick of the man. It would be a pleasure to get rid.

  The driver pulled up a hundred yards from the pub. He’d told Mickey to go round to the back, as CCTV cameras covered the car park.

  Mickey slunk forward, hood up, head down, keeping to the shadows. At the rear of the building, the kitchen door was wide open. Food was cooking in the large ovens. The smell was overpowering, the pans on the hob were making a lot of steam. A man was whistling somewhere inside.

  Mickey made for the bar. It was crowded but the mark was easily picked out. He stood a f
ew feet away, chatting to another bloke. Mickey ordered half a pint, and leaned against the wall, watching. This one was different. He was no druggie off the Lansdowne. He was well dressed for a start. Mickey could not imagine how someone like him would know a sleazebag like Slicer.

  But the details didn’t matter. Mickey smiled. This was easy money, another grand to add to the stash.

  The mark was off in the direction of the toilets. There was nobody else about in the corridor. Mickey tailed him, the blade drawn and held close to his body. Inside the toilet, the mark turned to see who was at his back. Mickey struck. One movement, smooth and clean. A look of astonishment appeared on the man’s face as he crashed to the floor. It had taken only seconds.

  Mickey flipped him over onto his back and quickly searched his pockets. He removed a wallet, a mobile and a small notebook. After laying him out like the others, Mickey made a hasty retreat.

  His only word to the driver was, “Done.”

  The driver started the engine, took a side road, and sped off back the way they’d come. “Neat work. You were gone ten minutes, tops. Slicer will be pleased.”

  “He was different from the other two.”

  “Someone needed a lesson in manners. That’s all you need to know.”

  Mickey sat in silence. The driver hummed tunelessly to the radio. Not a minute too soon they were back on the Lansdowne.

  “See you, kid.” The driver grinned at him as he pulled up.

  Mickey hopped out, and the driver moved off in the direction of one of the tower blocks. Time to make this happen. Slicer’s work done, this one was personal.

  The driver parked in the shadow of a tower block. Mickey was about fifty yards away. The driver got out of the car, threw a fag end onto the concrete and turned towards the main door. He was a big man, hefty and lumbering. Unlike Mickey, who had both speed and stealth. Within seconds, he had the driver an arm’s length away from the muzzle of the Glock.

  Mickey was high on excitement. He had not rehearsed this. It was seat of the pants time. He had one shot. No second chances. Eyes screwed up, breath on hold, he counted to three and pulled the trigger.

  It was almost an anti-climax. There was hardly any noise, all Mickey heard was a throaty groan as the driver lurched for a second. He didn’t even turn, simply fell forward onto the ground.

  Chapter 9

  Day 3

  “It’s not asking too much too soon, is it, Pat? I wouldn’t go, but it is vital that we speak to this woman,” Greco asked his aunt.

  “It’s part of your job. You have to do whatever it takes. Matilda and I will be fine, Stephen. You worry too much, you always did. Who is going with you?”

  “DC Harper,” he replied.

  “Grace? She’s nice. I like her. Matilda does too. She’s asked if Grace’s little girl Holly can come round after school one day soon.”

  “Grace is a colleague, Pat.”

  “She likes you. I’ve seen the looks.”

  “Imagination,” he said, adjusting his tie.

  “It’s okay, you know. To want a relationship with someone else.”

  “It’s too soon. Apart from which, I do not want a relationship with Grace.”

  “You’re starting to wallow, Stephen, and it isn’t good for you or Matilda. You need to reboot your life. Make a fresh start.”

  This again. “I thought I had. The job?”

  “I’m talking about your private life. It would be good for you to take a woman out occasionally.”

  He sighed. “Like I said, too soon after Suzy.”

  “I don’t like to say this, but you do remember that Suzy was about to leave you? That she was seeing someone else? It wasn’t going to work. Plus you weren’t married anymore when she died.”

  “And the bastard she was seeing murdered her.” Greco banged his fist down on the sideboard. “He wheedled his way into her life because he had an agenda. Suzy was gullible, that’s all it was.”

  “Wrong man, wrong choice, I agree. But the fact remains that Suzy was prepared to ditch you in favour of another man. If it hadn’t been him, then it would have been someone else.”

  Greco felt sick. He’d gone over this many times in his mind. He wasn’t ready to admit it yet, but he knew Pat was right.

  “You can’t spend the rest of your life mourning a woman who had fallen out of love with you.”

  He turned and faced her. “Pat! Please don’t do this. A lecture is not what I need right now.”

  “Someone has to set you straight, Stephen. I’m the closest family you’ve got, apart from Matilda. So it’s down to me.” She took his arm. “Think about what I’ve said. Don’t lose out on a good woman because of some fantasy in your head.”

  “I’m taking my bags out to the car.” He grabbed the holdall, his laptop and a file of paperwork. His head was spinning. Pat was not trying to upset him, he knew that. Perhaps in time he’d be able to do as she wanted. But not right now. Suzy may not have loved him, but he had loved her. That wasn’t a feeling he could ditch in a hurry.

  He went back into the house. “I’ll say goodbye to Tillyflop, then I’ll have to leave. Want to hit the motorway before the traffic builds too much.” He went up the stairs as quietly as he could and peered into his daughter’s room. Matilda was still sleeping, her pink teddy held close. It was the last thing Suzy had bought for her. Since her death, the child hadn’t let it out of her sight. He stroked the blonde hair from her face, and she stirred.

  “Go back to sleep,” he whispered and kissed her cheek. “Daddy will bring you back something nice.”

  * * *

  “My mum is moving into mine until I get back.” Grace said as they got going. “Makes life a lot easier. You sorted?”

  “Would you ring in Amani Ali’s mobile number, and ask Joel to get a list of calls. We need to know who she’s contacted, and who has been ringing her.”

  “I see. That’s how it is.”

  “Just do your job,” he snapped.

  “You look as if you’re brewing for a punch-up, Greco. What’s the matter?”

  “I can do without the chat, if you don’t mind. Driving is bad enough without having a verbal skirmish with you.”

  “Something’s upset you. You’re best talking about it. You know how you are. And try and remember, you’re not the only one with problems.”

  Greco felt awful. He wasn’t usually this bad-tempered, and rarely with Grace. Pat was one of the most level-headed people he knew. What she’d said to him had struck home. Suzy hadn’t loved him. Not in the way he’d wanted her to. Well, he would have to face it. Pat was right. He needed to start again.

  “I’m sorry. Bad mood. Pat gave me one of her pep talks before I left. It got me rattled, that’s all. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

  “What did she say?”

  Ordinarily he wouldn’t discuss his feelings, or Suzy, with anyone. But he had spoken to Grace in the past, and she knew the score. “Pat reminded me that Suzy was more than happy to find someone else, and dump me. Told me that I was wallowing in self-pity. And that I need to get on with my life.”

  Grace chuckled. “Sensible woman. Got you banged to rights.”

  “Problem is, I don’t know what to do about it. I’m a mess. I manage the job okay, but I stagger through my personal life.”

  “Try being less intense, Stephen. Chill a little. You might even have a go at enjoying yourself.”

  “Now you’re making fun of me.”

  She looked at him. “No I’m not. You’re young. Not bad-looking, for someone who so rarely cracks a smile. Give life a chance. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Thought I’d got it all boxed off. I’m buying the house we live in, the one Suzy was renting. Matilda is going to the local school. I’m trying to integrate, be normal, and keep things as they were for the child.”

  “And you’ll get there. Want me to drive for a bit? Coffee at the next service station. Clear your head, and then I’ll take over.”

  *
* *

  The traffic was kind, and they made Brighton in just over five hours. “Our hotel is on the front somewhere,” Greco said, squinting into the sun.

  “There is a lot of front, Stephen. What’s the place called?”

  “The Whitecliffe. It’s somewhere near the pier.”

  “Great. Love Brighton pier. Me and my mum brought Holly about three years ago. We must have spent hours on there.”

  Greco pointed to a huge white Edwardian building. “That’s it.”

  “It looks very grand. This is on expenses, isn’t it?” Grace grinned. “Bet the rooms are lush. Can’t wait to give the minibar a hammering.”

  “Don’t push it, Grace.”

  The car park was at the rear. They parked up, grabbed their luggage and made for reception.

  “I asked for adjacent rooms,” Greco told Grace. “We’ll have calls to make, work to do. It makes life easier.”

  “We’re on the fifth floor.” Grace nudged him, taking the key card from the receptionist. “The lift’s over there.”

  “Busy place,” Greco noted. There were plenty of people milling about. The hotel had several bars and a large sitting room for guests.

  Grace smiled. “Coach parties. Look at the list of excursions on the board. Keeps the place going, I suppose.”

  But Greco was already on his mobile. “Amani Ali? DCI Greco, I’ve just arrived, whereabouts are you?” He stopped by a large ornate sideboard, and jotted down an address. “Okay, within the hour.”

  He turned to Grace. “You know Brighton? So you’ll know where the Lanes are?”

  “Is that where we’re going?” There was a smile on her face. “Love it there. Lots of little specialist shops and cafes.”

  “We’re here to work, Grace. This isn’t some mid-week jolly.”

  “Come on then, whereabouts on the Lanes is she?”

  “She works in an Italian restaurant. It’s open till late. We can go and see her anytime. I have the address.” He handed her the slip of paper.