Songs of Innocence: The thrilling third book in the Hannah Weybridge series

by Anne Coates

  “Hannah, are you ok?” Joe sat next to her. “It’s over now.”

  “In the UK perhaps.” Hannah scratched her hand. “What about the US?”

  The Home Secretary stood up. “I’m afraid I’m due back in the House. But I think you’ll find the US connection is winding up as well. Adrian has prepared a paper for you. You can finish the story you started now.” He smiled and shook her hand. “Well done.”

  Hannah wondered if it even occurred to him that she had lost her best friend and others had lost their lives for this ‘story’.

  “Need a lift home, Hannah?”

  “No thanks I’ll take a taxi to The News.” She smiled at Claudia as the Home Secretary’s assistant came in with a large envelope.

  “I’ve included photos as well. Not his best angles.” Hannah could have sworn he muttered, “the bastard” as he left the room.

  “Thank you, Claudia.”

  “A pleasure to apprehend the evil piece of…” She didn’t finish her sentence.

  “I assume Leah Braithwaite phoned you?”

  “She did. Well played.”

  They left via the members’ entrance. Claudia flashed her warrant card and spoke to the officer on duty and a taxi appeared for Hannah as Claudia disappeared in her car.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Hannah phoned ahead to alert Rory to the major story they would be breaking – the ‘missing link’ in the trafficking of Somali girls. He would pave the way with the editor. In the taxi, Hannah leafed through the documents she had been given. Clive Goodhill had been responsible for having her tailed. He had used government resources for his own ends. Still, that was a small misdemeanour compared to his machinations within the evil syndicate he had created and masterminded.

  When she arrived at The News, Rory waved and pointed to the Deputy Editor’s office, which was empty. He brought her in a coffee as she sat down and logged on to the computer.

  “I’m not going to ask how you are – I can see. We’ll talk when you’ve finished writing. Just send me any pages as and when and I’ll sub them. The legal eagles will check the article as well.”

  The adrenaline was carrying Hannah along. “Here are the pics of Clive Goodhill that the Home Office gave me.” She took a deep breath. “God I was so scared…”

  “Channel it into your writing. Use it. I’ll add the background references from your earlier articles. Everyone’s on standby.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rory grinned at her. “You’ve done it again Ms Women’s Mag Writer.” He left the office shaking his head.

  Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she allowed her fury to be vented. All her frustration and despair at the death of Liz Rayman, followed by the murders of Sam Lockward and Father Patrick, was pounded into the keys. As she thought of Patrick she remembered that the Home Secretary had mentioned Simon Ryan. She’d phone him later.

  By the time she’d finished and rewritten some sections with Rory’s help, she looked out through the glass panelling and noticed that the open plan section seemed rather empty. She phoned home. Janet had had no problem with staying on. “I’m so proud of you, Hannah, and Elizabeth will be one day too.”

  Simon Ryan was silent for a moment or two after she told him about what had happened. “Thank you Hannah. But I’m sorry you had to be exposed to so much danger yourself.”

  “Well it’s over now. Thank God.”

  The last call was to Lady Rayman. “Celia – it’s over,” she said. “Clive Goodhill was the mastermind and he’s in custody.” She paused as the import of her own words sank in. It really was over. “My story’s in The News tomorrow.”

  Celia didn’t reply but she could hear her calling to Mary. “Thank you,” they said together, and she could hear the tears in their voices.

  As Hannah put down the handset, Rory popped his head round the door. “George wants you in her office.”

  She followed him to the editor’s domain. As the door opened, she heard clapping and the popping of champagne corks.

  Georgina Henderson actually hugged her, a glass was put into her hand and that’s when her body started shaking and the tears chose to arrive. She still was no nearer to knowing what had happened to Tom. There had been no updates and neither Joe nor Claudia had been able to find out what was happening in New York. Terry Cornhill had tried his contacts but there was nothing. Was Tom even still alive? Hannah was convinced the explosion was to do with the US branch of the syndicate. But the FBI had sealed off all paths to Tom…

  The News ran Hannah’s story on the front page, running on to pages four, five and seven. Hannah’s by-line was given prominence with ‘extra reporting’ from Rory. Janet had arrived at Hannah’s with copies of the later editions of other papers which had picked up on the story.

  The first phone call was from Neville Rogers, Paul’s solicitor.

  “Hannah, I am so sorry I didn’t get to contact you in time. Men claiming they were from MI5 virtually stormed my office and demanded Paul’s papers. When they confiscated them, one of the party was left with me to make sure I contacted no one.”

  “It’s okay, Neville. That man had to be flushed out and he is in custody now.”

  “Let’s hope he’s not feeling suicidal.” Neville sounded morose.

  Hannah could understand his black humour. “I think the powers that be will make sure he stands trial.”

  “Well, there can’t be a cover-up after your story today. Well done.”

  He rang off and Hannah switched on the answerphone. The adrenaline rush from yesterday had deserted her and all she wanted was to clear her thoughts – and hear about or from Tom. Yesterday’s victory had left her with an aftertaste of defeat.

  However there was someone she had to see. Hannah showered and dressed with care. Janet and Elizabeth had followed their normal routine and were at the toddlers’ club so Hannah locked the house and walked across the road.

  Leah Braithwaite opened the door as though she had been waiting for her. “Come in, come in.” She beamed at Hannah.

  Hannah followed her into the kitchen. “Coffee?”

  “Please.” Hannah looked around her. The house was very similar to her own, but this kitchen was full of plants and herbs growing from every conceivable container. It looked chaotic but charming.

  “Leah, I want to thank you for what you did yesterday… I…”

  “It was nothing. I’d already noted the registration number of that car. I feel privileged to have helped in a tiny way.”

  She went over and hugged Hannah tightly. “You are an example to us all.”

  Hannah wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that, but she enjoyed the coffee and homemade cake in an easy atmosphere.

  “Thanks again,” she said as she was leaving.

  “Oh, don’t mention it – I’ll dine out on the story for months!” Leah was still giggling as she shut the door.

  Back in her own home, Hannah turned on the lunchtime news. It was strange to hear her name mentioned in connection with the major story of the day. She switched off the television and allowed her mind to wander, seeing images of Liz Rayman, Father Patrick Ryan, Sam Lockwood and finally Paul. Her daughter’s father who she’d never know. This thought led to her conversation in Brighton with Tom. What on earth was happening with him? She felt a deep sadness well up. So many losses. She allowed herself the luxury of a wallow in self-pity while no one was around to witness it.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  “I have some other information for you. At the moment it is confidential and if anyone asks me I would have to deny all knowledge. But this is a story you must make public.”

  Hannah nodded. “Go on.”

  Naaz took a deep breath. They were in Hannah’s sitting room. Naaz had rung earlier to arrange a meeting. Hannah was intrigued that she’d say nothing over the phone. In fact anyone listening in would have assumed they were fairly close friends looking forward to catching up on each other’s news. Naaz had congratulated her on t
he exposure of Clive Goodhill.

  Now she leaned forward, her hands cupping her knees. Her wine was untouched. “At first I thought it was just hearsay and coincidence. But now via sources I can’t divulge, I am convinced that a group has set themselves up to ‘sort out’ problem families. More especially problem girls. I think they are murdering girls who refuse arranged marriages, and not just in London.”

  Hannah could feel the goose-bumps erupting on her arms. “But why? What’s in it for them?”

  “Money and influence.” Naaz’s eyes were shadowed with tiredness.

  Hannah’s expression must have betrayed her.

  “Believe me, Hannah, this group is making serious money.” She leaned back into the sofa and sipped her drink. “Do you remember a couple of years ago a Pakistani girl was discovered dead in some woods near Chigwell?”

  “No, I don’t remember.”

  Naaz gave her a look that said “no you wouldn’t would you, because she wasn’t white?” But she clearly thought better of saying that out loud. She took another sip of her drink and continued, “The family had reported her missing. Her distraught parents appeared on TV begging her to come home. Pleading with the captors to let her go. It was all subterfuge.

  “When her body was eventually found the family was questioned again. Again, they denied all knowledge of her disappearance.” Naaz was silent for a moment. “For a while the family seemed to be in the clear. Then the younger sister broke down at school and confided to her teacher that she had overheard her father and older brother plotting to get rid of her sister because she had brought shame on them for refusing to marry a distant cousin.

  “The father and brother were arrested and eventually confessed. Even the mother was party to the crime.” Naaz shook her head. “It was what is called an ‘honour killing’, but there is no honour in murder.

  “Anyway that is when, it seems, someone somewhere thought it would be a good idea to have an execution group here. That way the ‘honour killings’ could continue and the family is never implicated.”

  Hannah must have looked unconvinced.

  “In India and Pakistan it is easy to buy these services. The victims are young women who won’t conform to the status quo, and in all likelihood their bodies end up where so many others do – in the Ganges. Here families have to be more circumspect. Don’t think it doesn’t happen, Hannah. What about the Triads in the UK Chinese communities?”

  Hannah was silent. Surely this wasn’t the case for Amalia?

  “Previously you asked me about the girl who was found drowned in Peckham Pond.”

  “Yes, but her family would never…”

  “But her family upset the family who wanted Amalia to marry their son…” Naaz let that suggestion settle between them.

  Hannah opened her mouth as if to say something but took a gulp of wine instead.

  “I still don’t understand. How would they have made her walk into a lake and drown herself?”

  Naaz sighed. “A misguided sense of family loyalty? Maybe they threatened her with a worse death? Who knows?”

  Hannah thought about what a worse death might mean and scratched her hand. “Who are these people?”

  “Men who are prepared to kill for money. I have heard of cases when a woman was sent ‘home’ to visit family only to disappear as soon as she arrived. She had effectively been sent to her death. The family in the UK make noises about her staying with relatives or more likely running off with a lover. Gradually she becomes a distant memory. Eventually she is forgotten.”

  Naaz leaned forward and gripped Hannah’s hand. “You can help us by exposing these practices. Sometimes the ‘hit men’ come into the country, do the deed and then leave. Some are really young men who disguise themselves as women and actually come into the UK on dead women’s passports.”

  She paused. “I think we now have some home-grown assassins as well. They have to be rooted out and brought to justice.”

  Hannah stared into the other woman’s eyes. “Are you safe, Naaz?”

  “I think so but I am very careful.”

  After Naaz left, Hannah opened a new word file – this was the article waiting to be written. She wouldn’t mention the ‘execution group’ overtly yet but she would write about honour killings. Concentrating on this would alleviate her worry over Tom.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  “There’s a boy here, Hannah, and he says he has some important information but won’t say anything unless you are present.” Claudia sounded more than a little put out. “He is adamant that you should be here.”

  Hannah looked at her watch. Four-thirty. Not an ideal time. “I’ll have to check with Janet and get back to you.”

  Janet, who was at the library with Elizabeth, answered her mobile on the fourth ring. Only Hannah and her mother had this number. She was happy to stay on as long as was needed. Hannah rang Claudia. “I’ll be with you in about half-an-hour.”

  “Thanks. I owe you one.”

  Hannah made her way to the incident HQ. Claudia had set up to deal with the Peckham and Dulwich murders, and was escorted by an officer through a labyrinth of corridors. He knocked on a door and stepped aside to allow Hannah to go through. Claudia and Sergeant Benton were sitting at a table opposite a young Asian boy who looked about sixteen, but could have been older or younger.

  Hannah did not recognise him. Nor he her. “Hello, I’m Hannah Weybridge. You asked for me to be present here, I understand.”

  The boy did not smile but stood up and shook her hand. “I am very pleased to meet you Ms Weybridge, my name is Ravi Grover.”

  “Right, now we’ve got the social niceties out of the way can we get down to business?” Benton had not appreciated waiting for Hannah to arrive.

  Hannah sat down next to Ravi. She looked across at Claudia. “Could we have a few minutes alone, please?”

  Claudia shook her head warningly at Benton. “Of course. Would you like some coffee or tea?”

  Benton looked as though he might explode.

  “Coffee for me, thank you. Ravi?” Hannah asked.

  “Tea please.”

  When Claudia and Benton left the room, Hannah asked, “So what’s this about, Ravi and where did you get my name from?”

  Ravi looked at her, his big brown eyes made even darker by the dilated pupils. He looked terrified. “I read your article.” This was said as though it explained everything. And Hannah didn’t know which article he was referring to.

  She waited for him to continue.

  “And I know Alesha. She said you were the person to help me. But she said I also had to tell the police as well.”

  “Okay.”

  “Alesha said I should tell the police in front of you so they would have to listen.”

  That young woman would go far. “How old are you, Ravi?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “And do your parents know you’re here?”

  He shook his head. “They’d kill me if they knew.” He looked horrified. “I don’t mean that literally but they would be cross.”

  Hannah smiled just as DS Benton returned with their drinks. “I think we’re ready now aren’t we, Ravi?”

  Ravi nodded and Benton went to get his DI.

  “So, what did you make of that?” DI Turner leaned back in her chair. They had moved to her office after the interview with Ravi.

  “I think the kid’s telling the truth. I told you I thought there was something going on with the Chopra family. Their grief was genuine and their alibis were rock solid, but there was an undercurrent of something else.”

  “Go on.” Both Claudia and Hannah were watching him intently.

  “The father was beside himself when he identified the body. He was shocked by the state of her.” He paused. “I know what you’re thinking, Guv, but it was as though he had expected one thing and was quite unprepared for what he saw.”

  “But surely that’s quite normal, isn’t it?” Hannah was struggling to see where this was leadin
g.

  Benton ignored her. “He said something in Punjabi and wouldn’t explain. I made a note of it – sort of phonetically – and asked the interpreter. She said it meant something along the lines of ‘they didn’t say it would be like this’.”

  “So,” said Claudia, “you think they knew she would be murdered.”

  Hannah had turned white. “I have heard about this.”

  Both police officers stared at her.

  “It all goes back to shame and loss of respect. Sometimes this is because a daughter will not agree to marry the man chosen for her. Or if married, she tries to run away from an abusive relationship. Shame and humiliation are the motivating factors for…”

  “Killing the problem,” Benton finished succinctly.

  “Quite. They call them honour killings but there is nothing honourable in these murders.”

  The ringing of the telephone woke her and brought back the sadness that had engulfed her. Her dreams had been about Tom but she had no idea how he was or even – this thought plagued her – if he were still alive.

  “Hello?”

  “Hannah, how are you?”

  “Well, I was asleep.”

  “I’m so sorry but I’ve got some terrible news.” She paused but Hannah said nothing. Her first thought was that Tom was dead. “Ravi was found hanging from a tree in Peckham Park a couple of hours ago. Made to look like suicide but … I thought I should tell you before you saw it on the news. I’ll come round to see you as soon as I can.”

  Hannah was ashamed of the relief she felt that it was not about Tom dying. But this was one death they should have been able to prevent. She wondered how well Alesha knew him. And thinking about Alesha made her wonder what had happened to Surjit Gupta, her cousin. At least she hadn’t turned up dead. Yet.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  The number 37 bus stopped near the turning into Stradella Road. Hannah alighted and made her way past the double-fronted, semi-detached houses, set back from the tree-lined avenue. She wondered what to expect. Sunita had sounded brittle on the phone when she rang and asked Hannah to the house as she had some important information. Hannah had told Janet where she was going – not a usual occurrence but it felt better to have someone know where she was.