Then, she came to an abrupt halt as she reached the short path leading to the front door. Next to it was a large bay window, one side of which was open… and sticking out of it, from behind grubby net curtains, was the barrel of a shotgun. Not a good sign.
Having caught her breath she saw that the gun was being held by a youth of Asian heritage, and he was shaking. She wasn’t sure if his nerves were a plus or a minus.
‘You must be Mr Iqbal Mamood,’ she said, as brightly as she could.
‘Why must I be?’ the gunman answered.
‘I hope you have a licence for that shotgun.’
‘None of your business, but yes I do.’
‘Well, unless you want to lose it and go and join your parents in prison, I suggest you drop it immediately.’
The man did, and then added, ‘Sorry, I didn’t know you were police. I keep getting loads of strangers coming round; press and others too. I’m scared.’
Christine decided that now was not the best time to reveal her true credentials, so allowed him to maintain his assumption. ‘You are Iqbal, aren’t you? she asked.
He nodded, and she saw him put the weapon down on the window ledge. She sighed in relief, and said, ‘I just want five minutes.’
Iqbal nodded again and disappeared momentarily before opening the front door. Christine had expected other journalists to have paid the place a visit, but was intrigued to hear of the ‘others’.
Iqbal led her into the lounge and showed her to a threadbare settee with horsehair stuffing pointing through the armrests. She tried to place as little of herself as possible on the edge of the seat cushion, as she watched Iqbal lock the shotgun into a steel gun cabinet on an interior wall. ‘You really shouldn’t point that at people.’
‘I know and I’m sorry.’ Iqbal spoke with a bearing that oozed the vulnerability of youth. He suddenly looked much younger than his actual 18 or 19 years. She could almost feel sorry for him… until she remembered what the women had told her about his lecherous advances, and how he had enjoyed his power over them.
Five minutes later Iqbal had told her about the several press representatives who had been up to the house, including one who had made all kinds of threats. From the description he gave Christine, she was in no doubt that the latter was the loathsome John Debroski.
She then asked him about the ‘others’ he had mentioned.
‘Look, I don’t want no trouble. I didn’t know my parents had bought those girls, I just thought they were illegal immigrants who had no choice but to accept their terms, in order to have somewhere to stay,’ he started.
Christine felt her blood start to rise on hearing his pathetic excuse, none of which she accepted. She guessed the police hadn’t believed a word either, but proving it would have been another thing. She had to supress her growing dislike as knew she would have to tread very carefully. She wanted to ask more about the women and who had brought them, but knew that to do so would sound wrong coming from the police officer he still mistakenly believed her to be, as the case was well and truly closed. To do so, she would have to out herself as being a reporter, which probably wouldn’t be a good move, so she decided to stay in character and focus on the ‘others’. She repeated her inquiry about them.
‘Look, nothing official, I don’t want them coming back, but if they do I want to know I can ring you and you’ll believe me,’ he said.
‘Go on.’
‘They must have been involved with the man who sold the women to my mum and dad.’
‘What makes you think that?’ she asked.
‘They just said to remember to keep my mouth shut.’
‘What did you take that to mean?’
‘I didn’t know, so I asked.’
‘And?’
‘They said that the “supplier of the women” was happy that my parents had made no mention of him, and they had been sent to remind me what would happen if I didn’t do the same.’
‘So they threatened you?’
‘Said if I said anything, then I’d end up being the one scrubbing floors, but in some Saudi Arabian hellhole, or worse.’
‘When was this?’
‘A few days ago.’
She asked for a description of the men, but Iqbal became very vague. Suffice to say they sounded of eastern European origin, both heavily tattooed and built like one of the farmhouse’s outbuildings.
‘Promise you won’t do anything, unless they come back? Iqbal asked.
‘I promise,’ Christine said. ‘Do you expect them to come back?’
‘I don’t know, man, but that’s why I’m nervous — in case their boss changes his mind.’
Christine knew she would have to go soon, before her luck ran out, but asked one last question. ‘Look, the trial is over and done with now, so there is no harm in giving me anything you can about where, and with whom, your parents dealt when they bought the women.’
She hoped she hadn’t pushed it too far, but she knew the deadline for her copy and that she’d have to be out of here pretty sharpish before Iqbal became suspicious. Even though she had met baguettes that were sharper than Iqbal. He appeared to consider her question carefully before he answered.
‘I never saw the man my father did his business with, but I heard him say his name was Boldo. He imports workers from Europe, via Greece and Spain mainly, and has a network all over the north west of England.’
‘Anything else? I promise I’ll not file an official report, but if we can find this man and remove him, stop him doing what he does, then you’ll feel a lot safer, I’m sure.’
Iqbal went silent again, and this time Christine didn’t think he was going to answer. But then he did.
‘Okay, I trust you, you didn’t hear any of this from me; I just want it all to go away.’
‘I understand.’
‘I once overheard my father tell my mother that Boldo sometimes stayed in Preston. That’s all I know. You must go now.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The bottom end of Avenham Park ended by the banks of the River Ribble. A wide river that denoted the city limits, though the built-up area just rolled into the neighbouring town of Penwortham, and although it was in a different council area — South Ribble — it was all greater Preston in all but name. The river was effectively the western boundary to the park in which the meet was expected to take place. Vinnie hadn’t had time to do a physical recce of the area, so had had to rely on a map and one of the resident detectives’ local knowledge. The park ran downhill from the east and then flattened out towards the river. Its southern side stretched into the park, whereas its northern side ran to a path under a railway bridge, which led to a pub and local roads. Vinnie and Harry were parked at the rear of the pub out of sight. Vinnie checked his watch: 11.45 pm, nearly time to deploy Susan Grady. It had been a rush, but they had managed to cobble together various resources.
The six armed response vehicle (ARV) officers were deployed across the bottom half of the park, in plain clothes with their weapons concealed. Three detectives from the intelligence unit were stationed at all points except west, with a good view to the assumed target area. All had confirmed their positions via radio. Vinnie had managed to ‘steal’ a surveillance team that by chance was deployed in Preston around the home of a prolific daytime burglar. He was expected to spend his afternoon thieving, but needs must, and this job took priority. The surveillance team had hurriedly re-deployed and as there hadn’t been any time to do a plan of the area properly, they simply threw a loose cordon around all approaches to the park from all sides, barring the river.
Vinnie’s phone rang; he took the call and listened without comment. The surveillance team leader confirmed they had just arrived on plot. He ended the call and Harry raised an eyebrow in question. Vinnie just nodded.
‘Ok Sue, let’s go through it one more time,’ Harry said.
‘I know I’m to meet Babik and once he’s happy with me, we go and as soon as I can confirm the location of the hos
tage I’m to text you, and I’m then to text you once he and the hostage are separate.’
‘That’s correct. It doesn’t matter if we lose Babik for now; the paramount objective has to be the safe recovery of the hostage.’
‘Well, if I’m to wait until he goes out or whatever, there should be no problems; just make sure you have a couple of firearms officers for when he returns.’
‘That’s the plan,’ Harry said.
‘And make sure you tell them to handcuff me, to make it look like I’ve been nicked.’
Vinnie nodded at her though didn’t really understand why the handcuffs were necessary. Once Babik was in custody it would be game over, anyway. He wished her luck as she left the vehicle and started to walk towards the bridge.
‘What do you reckon?’ Harry asked.
‘We’ve done all we can, given the time constraints.’
‘I mean about Grady?’
‘We’ll soon find out.’
*
Babik was starting to get cramp, as he had been hunched down behind the hedge for over an hour. Fortunately, the river behind him was tidal and currently at high tide, so it made enough noise to mask any sounds from him. He had a partial view through the privet and had seen the same idiots wandering about over the last 10 to 15 minutes. If that bitch had double-crossed him then she was a dead bitch. He wondered if she would even turn up. That would say it all.
He had approached from south of the river over a footbridge but had no intention of going back that way. He’d made other arrangements. It was time to tidy up all the loose ends and cash in his ‘insurance’ hostage before he could relocate and start again. It was no big deal, doing that; he’d moved several times before. It was just a pity that he couldn’t keep the old mill going a while longer, it had proved a money-spinner — a fact he had used to calm his own so-called associate, who was starting to moan about the reduction in the number of women Babik needed. It had only been a couple of days; you’d have thought the old mill had been offline for a month, the way he had gone on. And it wasn’t as if it was their only income source. Far from it. Small change, really.
He truly hoped that Sue hadn’t gone over to the dark side; she had been a good asset and he had hoped their relationship could develop. He’d soon find out.
He caught a glimpse of her in the distance walking down the path from the railway bridge, heading south towards him.
Babik pulled some twigs to one side to get a better view. Sue stopped, looked all around and then set off at a slower pace. She was about 10 feet away and Babik had a quick look around. He couldn’t see any of the fake tourists he’d noticed earlier. As she drew even closer, Babik whispered, as loudly as he dare, ‘Slow down and stop in four or five feet, and then face towards the park.’
He watched as Sue came to halt just a foot or so to his left, and then turned her back to the hedge and looked towards the park. ‘Don’t turn around.’
‘OK,’ Grady said, quietly.
Babik pulled a silenced Glock pistol from his rear waistband. Glock barrels did not normally accommodate silencers, but this one had a replacement barrel with a threaded end. The extra length did make it a more cumbersome weapon and he nearly hadn’t bothered with the silencer: it didn’t really silence very well. They did eliminate a lot of the muzzle flash on discharge, which was probably why they were manufactured as flash eliminators. ‘Silencer’ was a common misnomer, but every little helped, he reckoned.
He pointed the long weapon into the hedge and aimed it at 45 degrees, towards Sue’s back. ‘Don’t speak, just nod or shake your head, and do it just so. Any over the top movements, and you and I will have a problem, got it?’
Grady nodded slightly. Good.
‘Have they accepted you back into their filthy arms?’
Grady nodded slightly. Good.
‘Do they believe the scam, that you are an undercover working against me?’
Grady nodded again. Good.
Babik knew that if this was true, then there was loads of potential in keeping hold of Sue, but if she had buckled and blown him out, then he could be in deep shit. He instinctively glanced behind, to make sure the tethered canoe was still there. His contact, who’d knocked on her door, had stolen it from a local canoeing club and left it exactly where Babik told him to. Reassured by its presence, Babik turned back towards Sue and tightened his finger around the trigger. The answer to his next question would determine whether he pulled his index finger all the way, or not.
‘Are you here on your own, as instructed?’
Chapter Thirty
‘Look, it’s not what you think,’ Grady said.
‘I told you not to speak,’ Babik said, as his right index finger started to tense further around the gun’s trigger.
‘I know, but…’ Grady started, before cutting herself off.
‘I’ll ask you again; are you alone?’
Grady shook her head slightly. Not good. Babik was deeply disappointed and started to pull the trigger.
‘It’s not what you think, we need to talk, but not here,’ Grady whispered.
Babik stopped his finger. There was only one position on a Glock’s trigger, no secondary position. Just pull and fire. But as it had no safety catch fitted, the trigger required a serious squeeze to complete its action. Designed to stop mistakes. If you fired a Glock pistol, it was because you intended to.
‘They are everywhere, you need to stay hidden, I’ll walk away, I’ll see you at our favourite pub in one hour and this time I’ll make sure I’m alone,’ Grady said.
Babik released the pressure on the trigger and took his finger out of the trigger guard altogether. She’d said the right thing, but only just in time. And as she had no idea of what was pointed at her back as she spoke, he believed her. ‘OK, walk off; I’ll be gone before you know it.’
Grady nodded and started to amble further down the path. Once she was gone, Babik replaced his gun in his rear waistband, took out his mobile and sent a prepared text.
He re-read it as it went from his phone’s screen. Earn your money, now.
*
‘Can you still see her?’ Harry asked, as Vinnie took the field glasses from his eyes and ducked back into the car.
‘Just… on tiptoe,’ Vinnie replied.
‘And?’
‘And nothing, it’s as the intelligence detective who is maintaining the visual on her, said. “She just remained static for a couple of minutes, but no one approached”.’
‘What do you think she is doing?’
‘Probably just scoping the area out and making herself visible to Babik in case he’s hiding somewhere. But it has clearly not drawn him, as she has started walking further into the park now.’
‘Do you think he’s here and has clocked the firearms officers? After all, they aren’t trained in surveillance.’
‘Don’t know, but you don’t need to be surveillance trained in order to bumble about a park,’ Vinnie said.
Then, Harry’s radio erupted into life. ‘Unidentified male has just emerged from a hedge and is running west towards the pub, towards your location, Mr Delany.’
‘There’s your answer,’ Vinnie said as he jumped from the vehicle, stood tall and trained his binoculars on the park. He could just about make out a figure, male, running towards them. He could also see three or four firearms officers trying to catch him. Vinnie kept losing sight of the fleeing man as he ran in and out of his field of vison. He threw the binoculars down; it would be easier without them.
He heard the sound of car tyres squealing to a standstill in front of the pub, before the Intelligence officer’s voice came back over Harry’s radio. Harry was standing next to him now, with the volume increased. ‘Male is now headed towards the footbridge.’
Damn. They had no one at the other side. Vinnie watched as one of the firearms officers sped onto the bridge and after the fleeing suspect. He was closing on him. Harry shouted into his radio for all patrols to make their way across the river
by road to intercept, but Vinnie knew it would be an unnecessary order. Everyone would already be on it.
Then, everything went quiet and Vinnie could no longer see the fleeing man or the cops chasing him. ‘Come on, Harry,’ Vinnie said, as he jumped into the driving seat of Harry’s car. He knew the area only as well as Harry did, but he had scrutinised the map and knew roughly how to drive to the other side. However, as soon as they set off they found themselves behind one of the surveillance vehicles, so just tagged on behind.
Two minutes later, the cop who led the chase on foot shouted over the airwaves that he had caught the man south of the river, on the main road in Lower Penwortham, and had been joined by a colleague. They had the man under control.
‘What about the hostage?’ Harry said as Vinnie increased the car’s speed.
‘I know, but they were just reacting to a fleeing suspect, you can’t really blame them,’ Vinnie said.
‘I just hope the bastard’s got even the smallest of consciences,’ Harry said, as Vinnie started to brake. He could see the commotion up ahead, on the pavement, by a bend. The suspect was on the floor up against some railings, two firearms officers had weapons drawn and pointed at him as a third was searching him.
Vinnie and Harry approached on foot as the third officer shouted, ‘Clear,’ and the first two lowered their weapons. Vinnie took his phone out of his pocket and showed Harry the photo message Jim Day had sent him just before they raided the mill.
‘Shit,’ he said.
‘Shit indeed,’ Vinnie replied, as he let his phone hand drop to his side before turning to the prostrate man, and asking, ‘Who the fuck are you?’
The man was being helped to his feet by the first two cops, who had by now holstered their weapons. ‘I thought 200 sounded a lot; the bastard never mentioned cops with guns, I’ve nearly shit myself here,’ the man said.
Hidden Page 13
