DARK TRADE a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by Helen H. Durrant

  Greco wasn’t so sure. He’d researched the place, and it had an excellent reputation. Rashid was one of the best renal surgeons in the North West. He didn’t have either of them down as people who needed to earn a fast buck by working for traffickers.

  “It’s possible the clinic is involved somewhere,” he said to Grace. “But not in the way you reckon.”

  “I still think we should dig. Find a weakness, because there will be one.”

  * * *

  Doctor Faisal Rashid peered through the window blinds at the car that had pulled up outside. It was that detective again, and this time he had a uniformed officer with him. What was going on? Jason must have said something at their last visit to bring them back. Or perhaps it was something he’d omitted to say. Jason Horton was fast becoming a liability.

  Horton stuck his head around Faisal’s office door. “Can you spare them a few minutes? It’s nothing heavy. They’re still asking questions about the event the other night, and that boy that was killed.”

  “They can’t think the boy’s death had anything to do with us, surely? Have you told them what we do here?” Faisal Rashid was angry. “We save lives, we do not take them. You must ensure these people understand.”

  Jason shook his head. “We have to be careful, Faisal. If we say too much, we could get into all sorts of trouble.”

  “You are talking in riddles. We have nothing to hide, so what could we say?”

  Horton walked closer to his partner. “You do appreciate the good we do here, don’t you? We can’t stop now because of a little snooping by the police. We stay calm. We say only what we have to. Our work must continue, Faisal. Lives depend on it.”

  “We are a private clinic. We do what we are paid to do. If I’m put on the spot, Jason, I won’t lie.” Irritated at this interruption, Faisal Rashid followed his colleague down the corridor and into the reception area.

  “This is most inconvenient. I have a tight schedule today. So please make this quick.”

  “We are investigating a murder,” Speedy reminded him. “We are trying to piece together the dead boy’s last movements. He was at the event your clinic held at the Millstone. Do you have any idea what he was doing there?”

  “This again. Surely you have better information you can follow up?” He looked across at Horton. “The event was down to my colleague here. I wasn’t involved. It was an introductory meeting for prospective clients. The clinic holds them periodically. There is nothing unusual in that.”

  “We believe that the boy was smuggled into this country from Calais. We have been told that he underwent medical tests.”

  Faisal Rashid shrugged. “Perhaps he did, but not here.”

  “We think it was.” Speedy was chancing his arm.

  “You are wrong. People who receive treatment of any kind here pay for it. It’s a good thing that the boy was checked over. That place, the camp at Calais, is a cesspit. Anyone who gets out of there deserves all the help they can get. But I must emphasise again, they did not get it here.”

  “The boy, Jamal Ali, was deemed special enough to bring to Manchester, and not to work. Can you think why?”

  Faisal looked at Jason Horton. “I can’t begin to know that, Sergeant.”

  “What about you, Doctor Horton? Did he go to the Millstone to talk to you?”

  “I didn’t see the boy there,” Horton insisted. “It is possible that he followed that hack, Rouse. He was at the event, uninvited and causing trouble. The boy will have seen the food on offer, and simply helped himself.”

  Speedy shook his head. “Rouse was tailing the boy, not the other way around. And that means that Jamal Ali had a reason to go to the Millstone, to seek you out.”

  “But not necessarily me. He could have wanted to speak to anyone there that night.” Horton appeared to be mystified.

  Faisal said, “Rouse is a troublemaker. We know he suspects the clinic of malpractice, but he has not been specific. He has been here a number of times. I don’t know what he expects to find, but I do know he will be disappointed.”

  “Have you spoken to Rouse on any of his visits here?” asked Speedy.

  “No, I left that to Jason.”

  Horton was silent for a moment. “He has it in his head that we are ripping people off. He thinks that our procedures are dubious and not worth the money. He plans to run an article in that paper of his, and expose us, try to encourage our customers to push for their money back. It’s all rubbish. We do an excellent job, and I told him so, but he doesn’t believe it.”

  Faisal coughed. “I’m sorry we can’t help you further. I have a full list and must get on.”

  “Okay, but if Rouse comes back here, be sure to let me know.” Speedy handed Horton his card.

  Faisal Rashid was frowning as he watched the two policemen leave. “What exactly does that man Rouse have on us, Jason?”

  “Nothing. He’s chancing his arm.”

  Faisal studied his partner for a few moments. He was lying. He recognised the look, the body language. “If this is about your problem and Rouse prints his story, what then? Our reputation will be shot. We will get no more customers. Our clinic will be finished.”

  “I gamble a little, Faisal. As do thousands of others. It’s not a sin. No one will be interested.”

  “You gamble at that club run by the villain, Shaw. Despite what you told the police, Rouse knows you from that damn club. Be very careful, Jason. Don’t go getting drunk and talking to the wrong people.”

  “Rouse gets around. He knows people I know. Our paths have crossed, but I could hardly tell the coppers that, could I?”

  “Does Rouse have anything on you?” Faisal’s face was like thunder.

  “He suspects I’m in debt, but he can’t prove anything.”

  “And that thug, Shaw, where does he fit in to all this?”

  Horton shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t socialise with the man.”

  Faisal wanted answers. “Is Rouse blackmailing you? As I told you, money has gone missing from the account. A lot of money, Jason, and consistently over the past few weeks.”

  “And I told you, that’s down to a mix-up. I’ll go and talk to our account manager at the bank. It will be fine.”

  Faisal didn’t believe that for one minute.

  “Hamid Khan, what are we doing about him?”

  “I’m sorting that too.”

  “In what way are you sorting it? The man needs a kidney transplant. Are you simply going to snatch one out of thin air?”

  “His brother agreed to be the live donor.”

  “Then why are we keeping the man waiting?”

  Horton sighed. “Khan’s brother has got cold feet, but I’m talking to him. He’ll come round. I have described the procedure to him in detail, and explained that there is no danger to himself.”

  “Khan can’t wait, Jason. He needs a new kidney. If his brother doesn’t agree within the next twenty-four hours, we will have no choice but to transfer him to an NHS hospital. But there are waiting lists. His chances of a transplant will be greatly reduced. Have you told the family this?”

  Horton nodded. “Another day, Faisal, and I’ll talk the brother round.”

  * * *

  While Greco made his phone calls, Grace did a little shopping around the Lanes. She wanted a gift for Holly and decided to get something for Matilda too. Greco was bound to forget, or even worse, not consider it important. She settled on two soft teddies in mugs with the girls’ names printed on them — perfect.

  Greco had said he’d be at least an hour on the calls and a Skype conversation with Leah Wells. He was all work. As she walked back along the seafront, Grace felt uneasy. Greco had not reacted to what had happened between them in the way she’d expected. For her it was no big deal. She liked the man. If he was up for it, she would consider a relationship, but he’d have to lose the attitude.

  Grace stopped to buy a couple of sticks of rock. She was perusing the stuff on sale when she noticed him. He’
d been in the other shops she’d wandered around too. The man was following her.

  She felt her stomach tighten. He was a big man, swarthy and muscular. He’d positioned himself behind a display of postcards and each time he flicked it round he looked her way. Grace chose the rock and went to pay. She then spent the next few minutes fumbling in her bag. He was outside now, waiting on the pavement. This was her chance. Turning her back on him, she rang Greco on her mobile.

  “I’m being followed,” she hissed. “A brute of a man, I reckon he’s been with me since I left the hotel.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On the prom, outside the large red-brick hotel with all the flashing lights.”

  “Stay there, I’ll only be a minute.”

  That was all very well, but once Greco arrived the man might do a runner. Grace wanted a photo. Someone from the local force or immigration might know him. She went outside and started to take pictures of the beach. Moving around slowly to include the pier, she just caught him. His head was down. The shot wouldn’t be brilliant, but it was better than nothing.

  “Give me the phone.”

  Grace froze. His hand was on her shoulder.

  “Hand it over and I’ll do you no harm.”

  There was no way she believed that. “No!” she said firmly, dropping it into her bag. He swore, then he pushed her forward, guiding her towards a number of cars parked across the road. His accent was foreign, possibly Eastern European.

  “You are very foolish. You should have done as I asked.”

  “I’m police, and I’m not alone.” She spoke as loud as she could, hoping someone nearby would come to her aid.

  He laughed. “I know who you are, and why you are here. You are sticking your noses into something you do not understand.”

  They were perilously close to the black Volvo he was obviously heading for. If he got her inside that car, she was done for.

  “Okay, you can have the phone.” She reached into her bag and felt around. Her key ring was also a rape alarm. Trouble was, she had to find it. Her bag was like a bottomless pit.

  His hand was around her upper arm. “Give me the bag. I don’t have time to waste.”

  “Here it is,” Grace said with a smile. She pulled the ring and bunch of keys from her bag and as she did so, pressed the button. Thankfully the battery was still good and the thing instantly emitted a high pitched, ear-splitting noise.

  He swore again and pushed her to the ground. A few yards away, Greco was looking for her. Grace saw him and shouted. It took him only seconds to reach her side.

  She picked herself up, gasping, “He’s legged it! That way.”

  He helped her brush the dust from her clothes and picked up her bag from the pavement. “Are you okay? The place is crowded. Did you see where he went?”

  “Up there somewhere. God, I was frightened. He wanted to get me into this car.”

  Greco was still holding onto Grace. “So he’s on foot. Good. I’ll call it in. The local force can take it from there.”

  Grace shook her head. “I’m fine. You can let go of me now.”

  “Sorry. I got a glimpse, that’s all. But I saw him pushing you.”

  “I did get a photo of him.”

  Greco was already talking to the local CID.

  “Text it to this number.”

  It took her only a few seconds to send the image to the local police. Greco continued his conversation. “They know him,” he confirmed to Grace. “He’s a Romanian long-distance lorry driver. They’ve been looking for him for a number of weeks. They’ll get the car processed and send us a report asap.”

  “And he fits into this tangle of string where?” Grace was confused. The deeper they went into this case, the more complex it became.

  “Jamal got a lift across Europe,” he reminded her. “Perhaps that wasn’t by chance.”

  “You mean that brute is one of the people who are bringing the lads into the country?”

  “Could be. Hence his interest in you. He must know we’ve been to see Amani. I’m not surprised she left in such a hurry.”

  “What now?”

  “The local force will take the car. Forensics will do their thing. We’re going home.” Greco put his arm around Grace’s shoulder. “Enough excitement for one day, I think.”

  Grace winced. “I think my shoulder is bruised. That thug had strong hands.”

  Greco slipped his arm around her waist. “Sorry that had to happen. I should have been with you.”

  “I’m not a child, Stephen. We’re working on a case. It comes with the territory.”

  “What did you buy?”

  She smiled up at him. “A little something for the girls, and some rock. Holly and Matilda will love these. They’ve got their names on them.”

  Greco bent down and kissed her forehead. “I’m such a bloody fool at times.”

  “I won’t argue with you on that one.”

  Chapter 16

  Day 5

  “Anything on Tony Rouse?” The question was met with blank looks and shaking heads. Greco sighed. He and Grace had arrived back late the night before. He’d come in early and updated the incident board with what they’d learned in Brighton. He’d also written a short report for them. The least Greco expected was for the team to meet him halfway.

  “He’s holed up somewhere, waiting for things to quieten down, bet my life on it,” Speedy said eventually.

  Greco’s reply was terse. “That doesn’t take an investigative mastermind to work out, given he’s used his mobile locally recently. Joel, dig into his personal life. Is there anyone he might go to? A relative or friend?”

  Greco looked at Speedy. “I’m surprised I have had to prompt you on that one. He’s a reporter. Rouse is chasing a story he thinks is big. He isn’t just going to abandon it. He’ll be somewhere close. He’ll want to keep an eye on what’s going on. The chances are that someone is feeding him information.”

  “We could try the Crompton angle again, sir,” Grace offered. “His wife has had a few days since her husband was killed. She might have remembered something. Who else Rouse worked with, for example.”

  Grace might have something.

  “We’ll go and talk to her shortly,” Greco decided.

  Joel looked up from his screen. “I had another look at that bus queue, sir. The blokes we saw were all wearing overalls. They’re standard issue from Henshaw Bros.”

  “That’s where Michelle works!” Speedy said.

  “I went round there and spoke to them,” Joel continued. “I showed them the image of the car, the one the Knifeman got into. The warehouse works around the clock. One of the shifts finishes at eleven, and one bloke remembers it. He knew the driver, and they acknowledged each other. He doesn’t recall who got into the passenger seat, just that someone did.”

  “Go on then, don’t keep us in suspense,” Speedy joked. “Who was the driver?”

  “Joe Tanner.”

  “The driver? Slicer’s man?” Leah shook her head. “The lying . . .”

  Greco looked at her. “He’s hardly going to admit to anything, is he? Problem is, that by itself doesn’t get us anywhere.”

  “It does confirm what my informant told me though, that the Knifeman was working for Shaw.”

  “Did this bloke see the car go into the multistorey?”

  “Yes he did, sir.”

  “We should speak to Shaw again.” Leah sounded annoyed.

  Greco shook his head. “I doubt that will do any good. The man will swear he’d no idea what his driver was up to that night. We can’t prove he put him up to it.”

  “That club of his. Tonight. And no excuses.” Leah looked at Speedy.

  Greco turned to Leah. “That isn’t such a good idea. He’s already seen both you and Speedy once this week. He’ll be on his guard. I’ll go. Grace, you can come with me.” He saw her smile. She was at it again. In her book, this was a night out, another opportunity to get under his skin. “Speedy, go round to H
enshaw Bros again. See if that bloke remembers anything else.”

  Leah Wells stood by the incident board, her arms folded. She looked angry. Was it because he’d side-lined her in favour of Grace?

  “Why don’t you look over the files again?” Greco suggested to her. “Look at what we’ve got so far, and see if we’ve missed anything. Try and figure out where we can get some answers. Get in touch with the Brighton police, see if they’ve got anything for us yet.”

  “I could come and talk to Crompton’s wife with you,” she suggested, glowering at Grace.

  Greco shook his head and took her to one side. “You could have another word with that informant of yours. He might have something new to offer since you last spoke.”

  “Okay, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “We’ll have another briefing when I get back.” He looked at Grace, who was putting on her coat. “We’ll go and find Adam Crompton’s wife. The hospital first and if she isn’t there, her home.”

  * * *

  A quick phone call confirmed that Crompton’s wife had gone back to work, so Greco and Grace drove to the hospital.

  “I’m surprised. She hasn’t even had time to arrange the funeral yet.”

  “That’s how some folk cope, Grace, by working through it. I would have done the same myself if McCabe had allowed it, but he wouldn’t. He insisted I take the time off.”

  “They didn’t have any kids, according to the information Joel gave me. Just him, her and a big house in Stalybridge.”

  “Which department does she work in?”

  “Renal Care, under a Doctor Banister.”

  The two entered reception and asked for directions. They walked the three floors up.

  “They look after the entire east side of Manchester here,” Grace told him. “My Uncle Fred had dialysis here a couple of years back. What he really needed was a transplant, but that never happened.”

  “Shortage of donors?”

  “Yes, but in the end Uncle Fred had a heart attack and died.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, we weren’t close.”

  Molly Crompton was about fifty years old. She had short, curly dark hair that threw her pallor into sharp relief. She was thin, and looked tired, as though she hadn’t slept for some time. As they approached, she turned and nodded towards an empty room off the corridor.