by Mistry, Liz
He swivelled his bottom on the table and Alice inwardly cringed at the damage he was surely inflicting on his very expensive looking trousers. Folding his arms across his chest revealing sparkling cufflinks he said, ‘DCI Chalmers not about?’
Alice shook her head. ‘No, she had another appointment. She said she’d drop in when she got back.’
His lips tightened and he tugged gently at his jacket sleeves. ‘Not important enough for her to cancel her appointment, huh?’ The smile he flashed nearly blinded Alice as he continued. ‘Left me with her minions, despite me heading up from Cambridge at a moment’s notice.’
Alice’s eyes narrowed. She was tempted to take the coffee Sampson had made, fling it over his supercilious head and watch it cascade down his designer Italian suit. Instead she kept her face expressionless. ‘I’m sure DCI Chalmers appreciates your prompt arrival and I’m sure she’ll be here just as soon as she can.’ Thankfully the door opened interrupting her before she clicked her heels together and sieg heiled Wentworth. A haggard, dishevelled, bald man in his fifties entered, escorted in by one of the duty constables.
‘Inspector Detective Jankowksi, from Poland, DS Cooper.’ The constable spotted Gus behind his desk and his face broke into a grin. ‘Nice to have you back, DI McGuire.’
Wentworth immediately turned to Gus, a look of annoyance on his face. ‘Why didn’t you introduce yourself if you’re the senior officer? Why are you allowing a sergeant,’ he spoke the last word with distaste, ‘to brief me?’
Gus remained seated, his ice-blue eyes scouring Wentworth’s face for a few seconds before he spoke. ‘DS Cooper, is more able than I to brief you. In fact, she’s just done an excellent job of briefing me as I’ve only just returned to work an hour ago.’ He allowed his gaze to drift up and down Wentworth before adding. ‘Oh, and by the way, in Yorkshire we don’t tolerate arses lightly, no matter their rank. Show a bit of respect for my team whilst you’re here, please.’
Wentworth’s face flushed and he opened his mouth to respond, but Gus already turning to greet the new arrival, said, ‘DS Cooper will brief you both.’
Complete silence reigned until Wentworth stood and pointedly turned away from Gus, issuing a ‘We’ll see what DCI Chalmers has to say about your behaviour,’ over his shoulder. He then nudged Alice out of the way in order to greet the Polish Inspector.
As he turned away from her Alice noticed the bacon wrapper on his arse and reached out to remove it, then with a smirk she withdrew her hand and let the bag remain in place, hoping the grease was seeping right into the fabric.
‘Jankowski, good to see you again. Been a long time, huh?’ said Wentworth in a loud voice, as he pumped the other man’s hand up and down with unnecessary vigour.
Jankowski peeled his hand away and took a step back, looking over Wentworth’s shoulder at Alice who scowled ferociously. With a small half-smile he side-stepped Wentworth, extended his hand and in near perfect English greeted her before turning to Gus and nodding.
Gus smiled back as Alice returned Jankowski’s handshake and led him over to a chair between their two desks. She nodded at Sampson who appeared almost immediately with a steaming coffee. Detective Jankowski settled heavily into the chair, sighed, ran his hand over his bald head and studied the pictures on the wall.
Finally, he said, ‘This never gets any easier, but at least this time we’ve managed to reunite some of these children with their parents. Now their healing process can commence.’
Alice and Gus both nodded, allowing him the time to sip his coffee whilst Wentworth tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk, his knee bobbing up and down in rhythmic annoyance as Alice began to brief the two detectives on their investigation.
Halfway through Alice’s update the door burst open and in an effervescent wave of expensive scent, DCI Nancy Chalmers burst in waving her arms in all-encompassing greeting as she walked smartly across the room towards the two visitors. ‘Oh, I’m so glad you’re both here. How was the flight, Jankowski?’ She grimaced. ‘Awful, I expect. Are the parents settled with their children now?’
Jankowski stood and took two steps towards Nancy, his eyes lighting up for the first time as he stretched out a huge hand which she took between her two smaller hands and gripped tightly. ‘It’s good to see you again, Nancy, and yes, the parents are reunited with their children, both living and dead.’ He grimaced and Nancy patted his hand reassuringly before turning to the other man who’d remained seated.
Flashing an insincere smile, Wentworth said, ‘So, you’ve finally deigned to turn up Nancy?’
‘Had a physio appointment, David. Did you want me to cancel it?’
Wentworth shook his head. ‘Oh no, of course not, Nancy. Back problems is it?’
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘No. Women’s problems, David.’ She leaned towards him, looking straight into his eyes. ‘But don’t worry my pelvic floor is in tip top condition. In fact, the physio says if I keep doing my exercises I’ll be smoking fags from my fanny again before long.’
Wentworth’s smile faded, as a thunderous guffaw erupted from Jankowski. Nancy winked at Alice. ‘Come on let’s have lunch before we get down to business.’
As the two men left the office, she turned to Gus. ‘Wasn’t expecting you back till tomorrow, Gus, but it’s good to see you back. We’ll catch up later.’
Chapter 26
Monday 1:30pm, Bradford
‘Look, all I want to know is, what are the implications of them finding those damn brats in Heaton? All I’m concerned, all we’re all concerned, about is that they can’t trace them back to any of us.’
The Matchmaker wanted to tell the old bugger on the other end of the phone to piss off, but he knew that this needed to be handled with care. After all their reputation was at stake here and, as they were all too painfully aware, their business had taken a long time to rebuild after the debacle twelve years previously. Their clientele needed to feel safe doing business with them and it was his job to make sure they did. He didn’t like the pompous little bastard but he was influential with their other clients, not to mention undeniably rich. His finances had been crucial to them regrouping so quickly.
The Matchmaker had just got back from a lunchtime run when the call came and he could smell the sweat on his skin. He needed to get showered, changed and back to work ASAP. Things were hectic and he couldn’t afford to be gone for too long. On the other hand, he couldn’t very well fob this client off. He wiped his face and slung the towel round his neck before replying. ‘There’s no need to worry. We’ve got everything under control. This was an isolated incident that cannot be traced back to us and certainly not to you.’
‘Yes, well, you would say that, but I had contact with at least one of those brats and I don’t want this coming back to bite me on the ass, forensically speaking that is!’
The Matchmaker bit his lip. He wasn’t entirely sure how clean the kids had been at the end. He’d taken his eye off the ball on that one. Leaving it to The Distributor to negotiate a safe house had been a mistake and he had no guarantees that established protocol had been utilised after each meeting, but he wasn’t going to admit that.
Instead he put on his most disdainful voice and replied, ‘We’re not amateurs you know. That’s why you and your friends are happy to pay the big bucks. You know when you rent from us, you’re guaranteed complete removal of all evidence. It’s part of the deal.’
‘Well, just so you know, I’ve got eyes on the periphery of this investigation so I’ll know if you’re bullshitting me.’
The Matchmaker laughed, ‘And I’ve got eyes inside the investigation. Nothing gets left to chance with our organisation.’
‘Who are you?’ asked the other man, his voice quiet.
Again The Matchmaker laughed. ‘All you need to know is that I’m extremely well-connected. Even more well-connected than you.’
Chapter 27
Monday 2pm
The Distributor sat in the stolen car opposi
te Ishaq Asif’s house in Great Horton. Bored, he watched the two stupid loved-up kids heading back down the street, each with bulging Tesco bags swinging from their wrists. Their free arms were wrapped round each other, making them look like a pair of Siamese twins. The Distributor, pissed off by the brooding Adele song on the radio, leaned forward and with half an eye on the red door, fiddled with the dials trying to find Capital. At least it was usually quite lively. The door had remained resolutely shut for the past three-quarters of an hour and he wondered exactly what the brat was telling the police.
Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Born to Run’ flooded the car. As he tapped along to the beat he admitted to himself that it had been a mistake to use Sharon Asif’s grotty house as a storage facility. It was cheap, if not cheerful, and he’d enjoyed being able to syphon off some of the rent that he’d have had to pay for a more anonymous place, but as a long-term strategy it had been a mistake. He bit his lip and was cursing his short-sighted greed when the door finally opened. The two police officers stepped forward, turned and the woman spoke to the tall skinny Pakistani, probably the brother, who held the door slightly ajar. At last the brother nodded and shut the door. The two officers walked down the steps and turned towards their car, not bothering to look in his direction.
He pulled balaclava on, slipped the gun into his waistband and, with his hand on the door handle, waited till they started their car. He was just about to open the car door when Jamal and his brother, both wrapped up for the winter weather stepped out of the house and quickly ran down the steps. A black Corsa at the kerb beeped and, before he could do anything, the two of them were inside.
A quick glance down the road told him the police car was still there. Fuck, he’d have to do it now. Quickly he flicked the key in the ignition, opened the window, grabbed the gun from his trousers and took aim. Two shots in quick succession hit the black Corsa sending an avalanche of glass into the car. The two loved-up kids turned, hands to their mouths as The Distributor quickly took off. The boy took a step towards the speeding car and, without thinking, The Distributor poked the gun through the window and fired before accelerating past the police car that now drew level with the Corsa. Glancing in his mirror he saw Tesco bags strewn in the snow and the boy lying on his back, his girlfriend kneeling by his side. Behind them the female officer jumped out leaving the Sikh officer to follow.
The Distributor took advantage of his head-start, screeched down side streets, turning twice before reaching Great Horton Road. He accelerated. Driving on the wrong side of the street he stormed down towards The Mumtaz restaurant before screeching suddenly to the left at the traffic lights, in front of cars that had been intending to go straight. His manoeuvre caused the cars to swerve and three cars collided, stopping the police car from following. Quickly nipping into the Asda car park on Cemetery Road, he parked up between two people carriers. His heart was hammering and he was sweating profusely. He grabbed his belongings, gave the car a final cursory check and left the car park on foot, glad he’d kept his gloves on the whole time.
Chapter 28
Monday 2:15pm, Bradford
By the time DC Hussain had contacted The Fort about the shooting in Great Horton, DCI Chalmers had lunched the visitors. Then, reassured by Gus’s return to work, she had excused herself and departed to oversee a major liaison involving Leeds and Bradford Drugs units. Quickly, Gus updated them on the recent shooting on Rosalind Street and informed them that they were waiting for Jamal and his brother to be checked over at the hospital before they were transported to The Fort for interview.
Jankowski was the first to speak. ‘Your detective Compo worked very quickly to identify the children from the Interpol missing children’s files. I believe there are only a few still unidentified and he has managed to identify both of the dead children, too.’ He inclined his head with a smile towards Compo, who had remained by his computer rather than join the rest of the team at the table.
‘Yes, Compo worked overnight yesterday to match the children,’ said Gus.
Wentworth, still upset by the grease mark he’d finally discovered on the back of his trousers, snorted. ‘Humph, that explains the ripe stench of BO accompanying the bacon smell.’
Turning steady blue eyes on Wentworth, Gus waited till the other man looked away before speaking. ‘I think we all agree that the smell of bacon butties and the sweat of hard work is a minor discomfort compared to what each of those poor children suffered since their disappearances. If bacon butties and all-nighters get results, then I’m all for it. My team work hard and some of them haven’t been home since yesterday. If it bothers you that much we’ll open the windows, but what is most important right now is the need to move quickly on this.’
Jankowski caught Gus’s eye and smiled before turning to Wentworth. ‘Do you see the similarities?’ he said
Wentworth frowned. ‘Similarities? Not sure I get what you mean.’
It was Jankowski’s turn to frown. He tutted dismissively, using his entire body to emphasise his annoyance before speaking again and when he did he enunciated each word crisply. ‘DCI Chalmers requested my involvement in this. I suspect that is because she fears that The Matchmaker and his group have resurfaced.’
Gus looked from one detective to the other wondering what exactly Jankowski meant by this, and feeling annoyed that DCI Chalmers hadn’t shared this information with him before she left. He was aware she’d barely had the time but he hated feeling like he was on the hop.
Wentworth nipped his trouser leg between his index finger and thumb and gently tugged it up before crossing his legs. His lips pursed up and he glared at Detective Jankowski as if he was a stool specimen.
‘Why in heavens name would they regroup in Bradford of all places?’
‘Why wouldn’t they choose Bradford?’ said Jankowski, ‘Liverpool and Hull are close enough. Most trafficking security is concentrated down south and major motorways make transporting children north or south very easy from Yorkshire. Plus, their overheads will be lower.’ He smiled and Gus could tell by the anger flickering in his eyes that he didn’t rate Wentworth. He warmed to Jankowski.
Seemingly sensing the other man’s antipathy, Wentworth flushed. ‘I think you’re looking for connections that aren’t there. We all feel bad about not getting the entire ring twelve years ago but you can’t keep imagining links that aren’t there. This isn’t a very organised group is it?’ He splayed his hands in front of him ‘For God’s sake, they wouldn’t have used a bloody druggie whore to house their assets if they were experienced would they?’
Jankowksi sipped his coffee, holding Wentworth’s gaze over the top of his mug, then very quietly said, ‘Assets?’ He placed his mug deliberately on the table and leaned toward Wentworth. ‘You mean children.’ He raised his hand and punctuated each word with his pointing finger, ‘Never, ever, forget: these are children. Poor defenceless children, not fucking assets!’
Silence resonated round the room, then Gus cleared his throat and turned to Jankowski. ‘Perhaps you could tell us what happened twelve years ago?’
Jankowski pulled his gaze away from Wentworth and leaned forward in his chair, his fingers steepled against his chin. ‘Twelve years ago, a major international paedophile ring, based in the Cambridge area, was identified. Despite our best efforts, we were unable to apprehend the ringleaders.’
Wentworth then took over to explain how things had gone wrong for the investigation. ‘We got a lucky break when the wife of the man known as The Treasurer, James Clegg, came forward with evidence. Cathy, his wife, agreed to maintain her normal life whilst we tried to get more information about the ring.’ He shook his head. ‘We managed to prosecute many very high profile clients, judges, barristers, senior consultants, politicians, and of course, James Clegg.’
Jankowski slammed his fist on the table. ‘The boss called himself The Matchmaker. Can you believe it? Why would he call himself The Matchmaker It disgusts me. The Provider took those children from Eastern Europe and
The Facilitator arranged the meetings between the children and the clients. He took many children from Poland’. Jankowski looked away. ‘We never managed to identify or catch him.’
Clearing his throat Wentworth said, ‘James Clegg was in fear for his wife and child’s safety so he gave us zilch and the clients knew nothing of use about the organisers so although we locked over twenty paedophiles away for a very long time we didn’t get the head of the organisation. We’ve been waiting for them to reform, but I’m not convinced this is the work of The Matchmaker.’
Jankowski looked at Gus and on the fingers of one hand counted off each point as he made it. ‘We can’t ignore this. Firstly, these Eastern European children are all disenfranchised in some way; either they are Roma children or very poor children with little recourse to the law. Secondly, they are being trafficked, seemingly in groups, to the UK. Thirdly, we have, what appears to be, systematic abuse of these children by multiple perpetrators. Fourthly, both Europol and Interpol have flagged up an increase in child abductions in Eastern Europe over the past three years. Fifthly, I don’t believe in coincidence. Do you?’
Gus bit his lip. No, he didn’t believe in coincidence either. Jankowski hadn’t given any hard facts, yet both he and Nancy seemed to be in agreement on this one. He turned to Compo. ‘Get what you can from the files about this case and let’s consider it as an option.’ He rubbed his thigh surreptitiously under the table before standing up. ‘Now gentlemen, I’ve got a dead prostitute’s son to interview. If you want to observe, follow Alice.’
Chapter 29
Monday 3pm
The corridors echoed with their footsteps as Alice guided Detective Jankowski and DCI Wentworth toward the observation suite. At the other end of the corridor a door opened and their interviewee, Jamal Asif, jeans sitting uncomfortably low on his hips and head bowed, entered the corridor accompanied by both an older Asian man and a constable. The older man wore a western suit with a tie and a prayer hat. He sported a permanent scowl on his face and his arm was draped round the younger boy’s shoulders. As they approached, Wentworth who’d already expressed his reluctance to observe the interview cursed and turned abruptly on his heel and retraced his steps. ‘Forgot my phone. I’ll catch you up.’
