by Deborah Lucy
Gemma said she was bright, had had a good upbringing. Why hadn’t Gemma just left it at that? What did she hope to gain from letting her daughter into her chaotic and shit life? Within twenty-four hours of meeting her, Prayer had fallen into more danger than she would ever have dreamt possible.
He thought about what Gemma was asking him to do. Not reporting an abduction in favour of getting a quick resolution. Taking on violent Albanians. What on earth did she think he could do by himself? And this was no longer just about Prayer, it was about China and it seemed Megon too. He had been really saddened by Paul Wallace’s predicament. And suddenly, he could be in a position to let him know that Megon was indeed in Swindon, or at least had been, and who she was with.
His thoughts turned to Sloper. Simon fucking Sloper, whose actions in taking drugs and money had started this mess. Now he had a chance to expose Sloper. There had always been rumours about him being bent but Clive Harker had always stood by him, getting Sloper out of any shit he seemed to get into. And here he was now, with Sloper being handed to him on a plate by Gemma Harker.
Even so, Temple wasn’t sure he could do what Gemma was asking. If it went wrong, it would be disastrous and he’d deserve everything he would surely have coming to him. All the girls could be either injured or worse; they’d be trafficked and their families would never see them again. Overt police involvement could swiftly guarantee their disappearance. But if he didn’t do something and fast, he knew that could very well be the case anyway. If he decided to help, he knew he couldn’t do it on his own.
Chapter 25
Temple went back into the house. Ana and Gemma were sitting around the kitchen table where he’d left them an hour and a half ago. They were deep in conversation, which stopped abruptly as he came in. He put his car keys on the table and sat down.
Ana was relieved Temple was back. Babysitting Gemma had been a revelation but she was glad to see him return. She looked at him as she leapt up and put the kettle on. Her gaze wasn’t lost on Temple; no doubt Gemma had been giving her account of their past relationship. He sat at the table and looked at Gemma.
‘You’re going to tell me everything you know again. And I want to know all about Sloper.’
He watched Gemma’s face. There was a slight cloud at the mention of telling all about Sloper. He knew he’d have to make sure he had it all. He couldn’t trust her not to hold back, even now.
‘When I think you’ve told me everything, I’ll think about helping you. Now, start again.’ Without telling her, he’d switched his phone on to record their conversation. He knew that she might change her story if eventually the police were involved so it was important that he capture what she told him.
During the course of two hours, Temple downloaded what he needed from Gemma. She told him how she was trying to turn her life around. She’d seen it on TV, people who had done bad things and who had redeemed themselves by doing good. It wasn’t the same on the streets anymore. The older ones like her, they were beyond help. It was the young girls – far younger than she’d been. She’d seen girls just in their early teens being ferried into houses, hidden behind the doors of cheap hotels or rented rooms. The fear etched on their faces turned her stomach. They were so young.
They were treated terribly. She’d heard them referred to as just meat, meat for customers to buy. It was inhumane the way they were sold; they didn’t even have the choice to sell themselves. Everything was taken from them. At least what she did, street sex, she’d had a say in who she went with and could keep the money – well, some of it anyway. In this new business these women weren’t prostitutes, it was far worse – they were sex slaves.
Sometimes, she told him, the Albanians would use empty houses put on the market for sale to ply their trade in pop-up brothels. It ensured no one discovered what was going on as it was hard to pin them down. After looking online at websites, when they saw a house was vacant they drove by the location to check the place out. The longer it had been on the market, the more likely they were to use it. They would then discreetly break in and arrange for girls to be taken there. Then the customers would be told where to go. When they left, there was no trace of them so no one was any the wiser.
The girls in the brothels were so young and so scared; she could see that in some instances they had virtually been lifted off the streets. They weren’t like her. She’d gone down a path. She was nineteen when she chose to turn her back on her home and her family. She knew exactly what she was doing. She chose to take drugs, chose to opt out of her former life, be a prostitute to punish her father. Punish him for being a police officer, for always putting his job first, for overreacting with her and Temple, for ruining what they had. What they could have had.
What was clear to her was that these girls were now being enslaved. In many cases they’d been brought into the country having been promised proper jobs, not a life of sex slavery. She saw that Swindon was being flooded with foreign girls, but she couldn’t save them all. So she chose to save those who at least spoke her language and she could engage with.
She’d had some success and had already managed to turn some girls away from drugs and safely back to their families. But the stakes were higher than ever and it was dangerous. She’d seen that ever younger kids were now being used as drugs mules as they were ‘clean skins’ with no previous police involvement, and less likely to be stopped or come to notice due to how young they were. Over the years, she’d seen China being used in this way.
She knew Gary Lewis from around Swindon, although more of him than actually knowing him herself. She’d seen China with him a few times but no more than that. She wanted to help China, and as she was local she thought she could see it through, get her the help that she needed to make her safe and take her off the streets.
Because she knew her by sight, it was easier to talk to her. She’d asked China about her friend Megon and how they knew each other; China said that they had met the week before as they both worked for the same dealer in London. He’d sent Megon down to Swindon with drugs for sale. She was going to take money from drugs that China had sold back to London. When the drugs and money went missing from the flat, they both fled in fear. They’d have to pay the money back. They both knew what would happen to them.
Gemma knew it was no use them running – they would be picked up by people sent out by their dealer. Since they had run from the flat, Gemma had asked around for any sightings of them. No one had seen them. She guessed that maybe £3,000–£5,000 had been taken from the flat, including the drugs. She was convinced the girls would have been picked up by now.
‘The girl, Megon – was this her?’ Temple showed Gemma a photo of Megon that Paul Wallace had sent him. Gemma took the phone from him and studied it.
‘Yes, that’s her, that’s Megon, the girl who was with China. How do you have her photo?’
‘I’m trying to find China. She was reported missing by her friend a few days ago. Megon has also been reported missing by her family in London. So tell me about Sloper – how come he’s got a key to your flat?’
‘It’s his flat.’
‘You live in a flat owned by Sloper?’
‘Yes, I moved in a while back.’
‘So tell me how he fits into all this then?’
In her desperation to find Prayer, Gemma had turned to Temple but now as he questioned her about Sloper, for the first time she started to see how the world around her was going to unravel. She sat silent. She needed to think.
‘So you say he took the money – how do you know?’ Temple prompted her.
‘Maybe I was wrong, maybe it wasn’t him.’ Her survival instincts kicked in. She’d been on the streets too long and this was dangerous. Her sudden reluctance to speak made Temple start to wonder about her whole story. Perhaps this was all about saving her own skin. Perhaps there was an element of truth somewhere in all this but that was all. Perhaps she’d been sent here by Sloper. She was living in his flat after all, so she could still be
doing his bidding. He knew he couldn’t trust her. He pressed her again.
‘No, you said it was him, with some conviction. You said you knew he’d taken the money. You said this had happened before, didn’t you? He’s taken drug money from your flat before, hasn’t he? Is this what you and him do, set girls up? Lure them in and take their drugs and money? Does he pimp girls out of the flat?’
‘No! Look, this is wasting time; you could be out there looking for Prayer. The flat is clean, it’s my home; no one comes back there unless I want them to. He pimped out of my old flat but not where I live now.’
‘Oh really? Well nothing’s going to happen until you tell me all about Sloper. Your choice.’
As she saw it, she had no choice at all. ‘All right, all right.’ Telling him about her life wasn’t something she wanted to do. But then this wasn’t about her, it was about finding Prayer as quickly as possible. She looked back at him and began.
‘When I first started on the streets, Sloper said he was there to protect me. He said he was there to look out for me. But then, well, he used me too. Said he needed to know what the punters were paying for. That fat bastard gave me the drugs and took his fill. He said he’d keep the pimps at bay, that we’d be seen together and that I wouldn’t get any trouble. But then he ran a couple of other girls and started to get into the drug side of things in a big way. When I lived in my old flat, he’d use that to deal and to pimp. He got close to what was happening, knew who was coming in, what they were doing.
‘Sometimes, when the other dealers overstepped the mark and got in his way, he’d take what was theirs as a way of keeping them in check. These Eastern Europeans though, they don’t give a shit about him. I took a beating one night on my way back to the flat and ended up in hospital the last time he did it. He’s still trying to flex his muscles with them but they’re too big; they’re evil. They can’t be stopped. He’s taken the money, but it’s the girls who’ll have to pay it back, not him, and he knows it.’ She started to weep. ‘That’s why they came that night. They came round for me but they found Prayer and took her instead. I begged them not to but they could see my fear.’
‘And who are they, Gemma? Who came round?’
‘Their faces were hidden by masks, I told you.’
‘What kind of masks?’
‘Halloween masks, just the kind you find in all the supermarkets at the moment. Horrible green ones, with hair on them.’
‘Did they speak? Were they English?’
‘They had foreign accents. He’ll know who they are, or who sent them.’
‘Who will?’
‘Sloper. So, will you help me?’ she pleaded.
He didn’t know whether to believe her. She lived in Sloper’s flat and she said he was taking money and drugs from drug dealers. How could he be sure this wasn’t a set-up? And the girl, Prayer – perhaps she didn’t exist at all, perhaps this was just all a story to drag him into her world?
‘Won’t her parents report Prayer missing if they don’t hear from her?’
‘She spoke to them on Sunday and said she’d call them again on Friday. She’s supposed to be staying with me for the week, so we’ve got two days to find her.’
‘That won’t be the end of it – you do realise that, don’t you? If we find her she’ll be in a state; she probably won’t want to see you again. And when her parents find out. . .’
He’d made up his mind; he didn’t want any part of this. It was madness. It was her sleazy, dirty world and she wanted to drag him into it. Was she laying a trap for him with Sloper? Had there been any truth in anything she’d said in the past few hours?
‘I know. Don’t you think I know that?’ She was now slumped in front of him, her shoulders bent in defeat. Then she looked up. ‘But she must know that I did all I could to find her. Look, here she is.’ Gemma opened up her phone to reveal a photo. Temple looked at the image. He looked back at Gemma. There was no mistaking it.
‘That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’ve come to you. She’s our daughter. Yours and mine.’
Chapter 26
Brian Porten drove into Salisbury, heading for St Saviour’s Church. They ran a permanent soup kitchen every Wednesday night and would be open tonight. He’d rung them and promised them some sausages.
‘Come in, Brian, bless you.’ A grey-haired lady opened the back door to the small kitchen and he went inside with a large cooling box. ‘It’s so kind of you to come out in the dark. It’s getting bitterly cold now at night.’
He went over to a work surface and put the box on top of it. Taking off the lid, the lady appeared by his side and peered in. ‘That will be just fine. We will have enough there to feed them well for a week. You’re a very kind man. They so enjoyed the last lot you brought. I hope they’re the same.’
Porten said it was no problem and that he was glad to help and yes, they were the same recipe. He watched her unload the sausages into a small chest freezer, keeping some aside for that evening’s meal. She asked him if he wanted to stay, have some food himself before he journeyed back. It was good fare, he should know. He declined. He wanted to get out of there. He didn’t want to hang around anywhere that fed these bastards. He made his excuses and left.
Sitting in his car, he thought of what she’d said. ‘They so enjoyed the last lot you brought.’ As when he’d first heard her say it, a picture of beggarly-looking men scoffing sausages sprang into his mind. And again, he felt a thin vein of sickness in the pit of his stomach. People feeding on people. But why should it be any different to people feeding on animals, he reasoned. Anyway, these were the guinea pigs; he tried out most of his human produce on them first. And there they were asking for more.
With the feeling of sickness subsiding, he turned the key in the ignition. He’d drive off into the city centre and park up for a bit. Have a walk, see who was about, who wasn’t bothered with going to the soup kitchen. Knowing it was a long drive back to the abattoir, he’d brought his pistol with him tonight. It was under his seat. As soon as he had someone in the passenger seat, he could make sure they were no trouble to him on the journey back.
* * *
Deputy Chief Constable Buller sat in his office, putting the finishing touches to a statement. As his fingers tapped away on the keyboard, the sun’s sharp early morning rays penetrated a grey, cloudy sky, causing the computer screen to go opaque. At the same time, there was a knock and Detective Chief Superintendent Clive Harker put his head around the door.
‘I’m just about to send it over to you. Pull the blind across for me would you, Clive?’ Buller didn’t look up. Invited in, Harker strode purposefully to the window.
‘Thanks, sir. I think we’ll have everything ready today.’ He spoke as he walked and pulled the vertical blind across the window. ‘If we aim for ten this morning, we’ll have made all the necessary arrangements.’ His normally harsh Glaswegian growl was tempered for this exchange with his boss. And given the subject matter they spoke of, it took on an almost pleasant timbre.
‘Make sure we reclaim any laptop and tablet devices.’
‘I’ve already checked with IT – there aren’t any. Just a phone, which we’ll take immediately of course.’
‘All the forms drawn up?’
‘Yes, sir. There’s a letter detailing exactly the reason and terms of suspension. It reads, “Disobeying a lawful order from Deputy Chief Constable Buller”, and leaves it open for you to verbally explain the situation.’
‘Yes. That’s fine. I take it he’s due on duty today?’
‘I’ve checked. Temple’s due in on a nine-to-five shift today. I’ll have a message sent to him to report at your office at ten o’clock. Let’s say it’s about Op Acre, which of course it is.’
‘I won’t have disobedience, Clive, not at this level.’ Buller continued to stab away at the keyboard.
‘I think there’s enough here.’ Harker was looking over his shoulder. ‘There’s no way back now. We need to make sure we take this opp
ortunity. It’ll send the right message.’
‘When’s the hearing scheduled?’
‘Tuesday, sir. Only five days to go and Temple will be dismissed from the force.’
* * *
Temple went into work early to check out some of the things Gemma had told him. He was reeling from her revelation about Prayer. Gemma told him that it had been the reason she had left Swindon all those years ago. She’d discovered she was pregnant with Prayer three months after she’d left home. Her wired jaw hadn’t stopped her intake of cocaine, by which time she was also on the game.
Temple remembered their last meeting, how he’d told her that it was best if they didn’t see one another again, that it probably wouldn’t work out anyway. But why hadn’t she got word to him that she was pregnant? That rankled with him and made him doubt what she had told him now. A few simple words then might have changed everything. Changed the course of her life. His.
No, instead of telling him, she’d left home and gone off to the streets on a drugs binge, then disappeared from town altogether. Now back at his desk thinking it through, the whole evening took on a surreal aspect; he hadn’t slept at all and with a threatening pain currently shooting into his neck, he suddenly thought of Callie. He’d said he would meet her last night. He looked down at his phone. There were no messages. He texted her to say that he had been called away.
Temple thought of Leigh. Gemma’s disclosure would give her all the justification she needed, if she didn’t have enough already, that her course of action to divorce him was the right one. He’d be lucky if he ever saw Daisy on a regular basis again when she found out, let alone the newborn when it came. He could just imagine what she’d call him. He could imagine her face.
The revelation of another child was the last thing he needed right now. He put his head in his hands. But if what Gemma was saying was true, he also knew he needed to find Prayer and fast.
