1911021494

by MICHAEL HAMBLING

  ‘Coffee, please. Milk and one sugar would be great.’

  The two women took their drinks through to the lounge and sat in soft chairs in front of a low coffee table. Sophie leaned back and shut her eyes for a moment. She’d never felt so exhausted in her life. She had been physically tired before, but now she felt as if her mind was under assault. The past few weeks had been a time of complete mental and emotional mayhem. And the only people who knew about it were this young woman sitting opposite her, smoothing her ponytail, and an old man dying of cancer in Birmingham. Sophie took a sip of coffee and began to feel a little better. Jennie watched her expectantly.

  ‘I have the DNA results and they confirm what you suspected. They all match with yours. Under more normal circumstances, I’d be offering you my congratulations, but . . ? How do you feel? You must have very mixed emotions about all this.’

  ‘Yes. My mind’s a bit of a blur. I don’t know what to think, coming from such a stable background into all this. What are the details?’

  ‘The official check shows that the person we found buried outside the warehouse in Poole was closely related to Billy Thompson, confirming our belief that he was Andy Thompson. I then asked the analysts to compare each of the results with your profile, and they both showed up positive. You have a close link with Billy, strongly supporting his claim that he is your uncle, and you have an even closer link with the body we found, consistent with him being your father.’ A tear ran down Jennie’s cheek. ‘I’m sorry, Jennie. I said that in such a cold, unemotional way because I really didn’t know what it would all mean to you.’

  She went across to Jennie’s chair and put her arms around her.

  ‘There’s something else. I’ve managed to trace a member of the Stockwell family in Birmingham, and she has agreed to give a DNA sample. She would be your aunt if that part of Blossom’s story is true.’

  ‘Oh, God. I can’t take it all in. I just don’t know how to thank you, and this last bit is so unexpected. How have you found the time with all the other things you’re doing?’

  ‘It wasn’t that difficult. I think I told you I worked in the West Midlands for many years. I phoned up an ex-colleague and put her onto it, and she rang me back late yesterday with the news. By the way, the coroner has signed off your father’s body because of the detailed post-mortem results, so you can go ahead and make funeral arrangements. As far as we can tell, the DNA match means that you are the next of kin. There are no other close, known family members other than Billy.’ Sophie glanced at her watch and took another mouthful of coffee. ‘This is lovely. The stuff they supply us with at police stations is so awful.’

  She looked around her at the artwork hanging on the walls.

  ‘They’re all quite edgy, aren’t they? The prints, I mean. My husband would say they are pushing the boundaries. Particularly that one.’ She indicated a print of a woman clad completely in tight, shiny, black clothes and wearing high-heeled boots.

  ‘It’s part of a set. The others are not for the faint hearted. Would you like to see them? They’re hanging in my bedroom.’

  They walked through to the bedroom, mugs in hand. Sophie stopped and gaped.

  ‘When Blossom saw them he said they removed any doubt in his mind that I was my mother’s daughter. Apparently she was a bit ahead of her time and had similar “interests,” if that’s the right word to use.’

  * * *

  Sophie had just arrived at Swanage police station when her mobile phone rang. It was an unknown caller.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Ma’am? It’s DC Spence from Gloucester. I have some great news for you.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ she replied. ‘I need cheering up.’

  ‘We’ve found another witness to your father’s murder. We’ve been trying to trace the other gang members, and one’s turned up. He not only remembers what happened, but he’s actively helping us. And he’s said that he’ll testify in court if we ever trace the killer.’

  ‘How reliable a witness will he be?’

  ‘Good. Apparently he’s been a reformed character for many years. He goes around youth groups, giving talks on avoiding crime and staying out of prison.’

  Sophie leant against the corridor wall. She shut her eyes and breathed deeply. At last the universe was beginning to right itself, tilting back in her direction.

  ‘Ma’am? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, barely audible. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much. You can’t imagine what this means to me.’

  She remained leaning against the wall for some time. Then she slipped the phone back into her bag, stood upright, straightened her clothes and continued to walk towards the incident room. She didn’t notice Barry Marsh standing behind her. He followed her into the room.

  ‘Morning, ma’am,’ he said.

  She looked up. ‘Hi, Barry. The forecast says that the weather is going to get milder, thank God. So maybe we’ll make better headway tonight.’

  Jack Holly came in. He was the uniformed officer who had made the first visit to Brookway Farm.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but I may have a name for the gap-toothed man I saw at the farm last week. I couldn’t find him in any photofits but I’ve been asking around and I finally got a response yesterday evening. An old buddy of mine who lives in Poole says that it sounds like someone called Smiffy. They had him on their radar a long time ago when he was on the fringes of a gang of hoods. He hasn’t been in any trouble for years now.’

  ‘That ties in,’ Marsh said. ‘The members of this gang seem to be experts at keeping their names out of the spotlight. Even Frimwell’s record is from years ago.’

  ‘It reminds me of the Thompson gang in Birmingham,’ mused Sophie. ‘It was always a nightmare trying to pin anything on them. They were so clever at covering their tracks.’

  She was about to say more, but thought better of it. This gang had probably copied their methods, which supported the idea of a link. And that link was probably their boss, Charlie Duff. She couldn’t even begin to find a way of talking about him. Not yet, anyway. What was he really like? She thought back to her brief encounter with him through the gap in the hedge at Frimwell’s bungalow. Cold, narrow, watchful eyes and slightly curled lips. The erect way he held himself. But that was only the exterior. What was going on in that twisted mind? And what was he thinking now? She chose to keep silent. At some time she would have to come clean on the link to her father’s murder, but she wasn’t ready for it yet. Her thoughts were still too confused.

  She looked up. Marsh was watching her.

  ‘Thanks for that, Jack. Every small piece of the jigsaw helps us to visualise the complete picture. If anything else crops up, let one of us know right away.’ As soon as Holly left the office, she turned to her sergeant.

  ‘You’re watching me.’

  ‘Are you surprised, ma’am? I’m worried about you. You haven’t been yourself for days now. I saw you just now, leaning against the wall out in the corridor. You looked as though you were about to faint.’

  ‘If you must know, Barry, it was good news. The Gloucester crew have found a witness to my father’s murder, despite the huge time gap.’

  ‘I’m glad. But there’s something else, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling us.’

  ‘That’s just your over-vivid imagination, Barry. My advice is to stick to the facts, and stay with the evidence.’

  ‘Ma’am, you can trust me.’

  For a moment, a crack appeared in her carefully maintained veneer.

  ‘Do you think I would tell you when I haven’t even told my husband?’ she snapped. ‘No one knows what this case means to me. Not one fucking person in this whole wide, sorry world. Slimy, disgusting worms wriggling in a cesspit. That’s all it is when it comes down to it. Just get on with your job, Barry, and then maybe we’ll get to the end of it.’

  She stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Marsh gaping. He stood there for a few minutes and then made hi
s way out of the station. He phoned Matt Silver from his mobile.

  * * *

  When they met again in the afternoon, Sophie was back to her normal, composed self. Progress was reviewed, plans were made, orders were given.

  She and Pillay made arrangements for a third night visit to Weymouth, and possible changes to the route the young women would follow. Jimmy Melsom was given the task of contacting letting agencies in the Weymouth area, looking for farmhouse lets in remote locations, although Sophie wasn’t hopeful. The gang’s previous bookings had been so complex that it had taken Marsh days to untangle them. He said so now.

  ‘You’re right, Barry. But the last couple of moves have been rushed, so this latest one might have been unplanned. It’s worth a try.’

  ‘Of course.’

  The meeting drew to a close and the others left. She glanced up and saw him watching her.

  ‘Sorry for the outburst, Barry. You didn’t deserve it.’

  ‘I do care what happens to you, ma’am.’

  ‘I know. And I appreciate it, really.’

  Chapter 29: Satin and Suspenders

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Sorina looked at the other women. They were lounging on sofas in the sitting room of a small terraced house in Weymouth, skimming through glossy magazines. They were full of articles and pictures about shallow, stupid people and their shallow, stupid lives. But what else was there to read? This was all that their captors provided, as if none of them had the intelligence to read anything deeper. Or maybe that was the idea, to turn them into brainless simpletons who would just do whatever they were told. She saw Catalina watching her, and gave the older woman a brief smile. At least she had one friend. If only Nadia were still here, then she could talk more freely. They could plan for a different future.

  The girls were all dressed in cheap, satin lingerie and high-heeled sandals. She could only think that the men wanted them to look sexy and sophisticated. To her they merely looked tatty and ridiculous, like living toys. She guessed that she looked even worse than the others. At least they had curves. In her case the pink, satin gown hung like a sack from her thin body. And the stupid suspenders they made her wear dug into her thighs.

  The door handle turned and one of the women came in, fresh from entertaining her very first client in one of the upstairs rooms. She was smiling nervously and holding up a twenty pound note.

  ‘My share,’ she said. ‘Barbu took the rest. But it is more than I’d earn in a day back home. And it wasn’t too bad. He was gentle — and clean.’

  Sorina felt like retching. She took a sip of water and returned to a story about some third rate celebrity. None of the magazines carried articles about nurses, farmers, scientists, teachers or anyone who did a useful job. They were just full of vain people who did nothing but go to parties. And anyway, she’d read them all before. No new magazines had come from Romania for some time now. Would English magazines be any different? She hoped so. She wanted to learn more of the language, so that she could read some of the newspapers and periodicals she’d caught sight of when they’d driven into town. Maybe they’d be more like the magazines her teachers had told her she should read, with articles on history and literature. Her teacher had wanted her to stay on at school and study for entry to university. But her recently widowed mother had desperately needed money to clothe and feed Sorina’s younger brothers . . . And now?

  A second woman came in. Her mood was very different. She slid silently into her chair, looking at no one. Sorina could see her lip quivering. She’d been chosen by a heavier man, who’d smelled slightly of mildewed clothes. His eyes were hard, and Sorina had rejoiced silently when they had skated across her and settled on the more voluptuous, older woman. Was this what it was going to be like from now on? This anxiety as each visitor inspected them and made a choice?

  She’d overheard Barbu and the other men talking. They had spoken in English so she hadn’t understood much. But she had picked up that they would be taken out somewhere that night because the weather was to be a little warmer. Whatever happened, surely nothing would be as bad as that afternoon with the two men in the farmhouse. Maybe that had been its purpose. It was a warning to show her the worst that could happen, so she would accept lesser evils more readily. They hadn’t touched her since then, but she still had flashbacks of that dreadful hour. Her hatred remained. It burned inside her every time she looked at Barbu or the other man. Even hearing Barbu’s voice was enough. She’d never thought it was possible to feel such hatred. She’d like to do to him what they’d done to that young man, Stefan, the day after they’d arrived. She’d like to see him kneeling in front of her with his hands tied. She’d like to hold the knife and slide it across his bare throat, and watch his lifeblood spill out onto the ground in front of him. She would exult in his death. She would dance for joy as his life slipped away.

  She looked up and saw Catalina watching her. She realised that her breathing had quickened and her face felt hot. She took another mouthful of water and made herself calm down. Stay calm and in control, that’s what Nadia would have said. Stay vigilant.

  * * *

  No other men appeared that afternoon, so, as dusk set in, the women were told to get some rest. They dozed fitfully until they were woken in the middle of the evening. The two women who had entertained men in the afternoon were left alone. The other three were given new clothes to put on: low-cut tops, short skirts, boots with high heels, tight jackets. Sorina grabbed a scarf from the hallway as they left the terraced house. Barbu bundled them into a waiting car. Outside, it was overcast but the air was much warmer than it had been for the past few days. The gap-toothed man drove while Barbu told them what they were to do.

  He gave them cards with the address of the house.

  ‘We will be close by and watching,’ he said. ‘We will negotiate with any men who stop for you. Get any men who talk to you to bring you back to our house. If they don’t, and take you to a hotel or somewhere else, come back as soon as you can with all the money. If you try to escape I will find you wherever you are and I will kill you. I will do it slowly and make you scream in agony before you die. Then I will tell your families back home how you chose to become street girls here in England and how you took to drugs. If you don’t want your families to know your shame, you must do just as I say.’

  It was a short drive. The car pulled up in a quiet street and the two men pushed them out. The girls followed them a few hundred yards to a spot near a cluster of pubs and take-away premises.

  They stood, close to the kerb, with the two men a few yards away, leaning against a wall.

  Despite the milder weather, Sorina soon began to feel cold and she began to stamp her feet, walking up and down the pavement to keep her limbs from stiffening. At one point a car slid to a halt in front of her, and the window wound down. She could sense the occupants inspecting her. But before she could speak, the car moved slowly off, drawing to a halt again in front of the other two women. Sorina could see Catalina and the other woman step forward, followed by the gap-toothed man. Then Catalina got into the car, which accelerated away. Sorina stood watching. Tears gathered in her eyes. She heard voices, and turned to see who it was.

  Chapter 30: Revenge

  Wednesday Night

  There were more people out in Weymouth town centre tonight, moving in and out of the pubs, cafés and restaurants. Sober people, drunks, chancers, even a cluster of elderly people leaving a nearby church hall. A folk band was playing in one of the pubs and Pillay and Nadia could hear the music drifting out of the door.

  The two young women turned a corner into a side street. Not only were there more townspeople in the area, there were a couple of street girls there too. One was climbing into a car. Pillay stopped and turned aside to use her walkie-talkie unobserved. She held her hand up, indicating to Nadia that she should wait.

  Back in her car, Sophie was feeling more confident about this evening’s operation. She’d been able to secure the he
lp of several of the town’s squad car crews, who were ready to lend a hand if needed. The nearest car was cruising around the town centre, keeping an eye on the pubs as closing time approached.

  The walkie-talkie crackled into life. Sophie radioed through to the squad car. She asked Marsh and Melsom, waiting in a car parked behind hers, to follow her. She drove carefully round the corner and pulled in. She watched as the two young women approached a small group of girls.

  * * *

  Pillay had told Nadia to wait while she radioed, but the young Romanian began to run past the small cluster of people. She was heading towards a solitary, slightly built figure standing some distance beyond the car, which was now moving away. Pillay hurried after Nadia, past the woman still standing at the roadside. She ran past two men, who seemed to be watching her. Then she realised that they had switched their attention from her to Nadia, some yards in front. The young Romanian had ignored everything she’d been told and had flung her arms around the slight figure standing forlornly by the roadside. Pillay heard movement behind her. She glanced back in time to see both men step forward. They were close behind her. She swung around to face them, loosening her coat.

  ‘Police! Stay where you are.’

  One of the men stopped, confused. The other moved towards her, reaching inside his jacket. Pillay took several steps back, trying to maintain a distance between them, while pulling her stun-gun from its holster. She shouted as loud as she could.

  ‘Police! Taser. Taser. Stay where you are. I say again, primed taser. Stay where you are.’

  The man kept coming, so she triggered the gun. He fell to the ground. A small figure rushed past Pillay towards the man, lying on the ground. It was the girl Nadia had gone to. The girl began to scream and kick at the body. Nadia ran up and tried to hold her back. Sophie, Marsh and Melsom arrived at the scene and were at last able to pull the hysterical girl away.