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  ‘Which bastard?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘That bastard,’ the man answered, as he pointed to the picture still visible on the screen of Vinnie’s phone. Vinnie groaned as realisation set in. He glanced at Harry, who had started an over-the-top head rub.

  ‘He paid you to do what, exactly?’

  ‘Just to run over the bridge from behind a hedge near to it, when he texted me to do so. I didn’t ask why, not for 200 quid.’

  Vinnie smiled and noticed Harry stop his comfort rub. At least they would have his phone number.

  ‘Might be a burner,’ Harry said.

  ‘I know, but if we are quick, we might get a location.’

  ‘Give me your phone,’ Harry said to the man, before adding, ‘I’ll sort this via the chief’s office, it’ll be quicker that way. You get hold of Grady.’

  Vinnie nodded, and put a call into Grady. But before he could speak, she did. ‘I know what’s happened, or should I say, I’ve guessed.’

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘On my way to meet Babik.’

  ‘What? Where?’

  ‘Can’t tell you, boss.’

  ‘Look here, Susan, you are hopping one-legged on a tightrope as it is; I need to know where and how.’

  ‘I can tell you the how; he was behind a bush, a different bush. I never saw him but I heard him. He’d clocked everything, that’s why I can’t tell you where, I’ve got to go alone, too risky otherwise.’

  ‘Now look here, DS Grady—’ Vinnie started to say.

  ‘Sorry, boss, you’ll have to trust me. It’s now way too dangerous for anyone else to be seen near me, and please don’t ring me. You could put my life in danger if I’m with him. I’ll ring you as soon as I can. Got to go.’

  Vinnie just stared at his phone’s screen as the call ended, and its display returned to the photo of Babik.

  ‘What?’ Harry said.

  ‘I’ll tell you in the car,’ Vinnie said, and restrained himself from adding, “and prepare to give that head of yours a serious rubbing”.

  *

  Babik smiled to himself as he paddled upstream and threw one of his phones into the River Ribble.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Christine drove back into Manchester and briefed her editor, June, who had simply told her to ‘keep on it, but be careful’. She omitted the bit about young Iqbal thinking she was a cop. She hadn’t actually lied to him but she hadn’t corrected him either. June wouldn’t have approved, Christine wasn’t sure she did, either. The last thing she wanted to do was to end up in the same category as that slug John Debroski.

  She wondered how the women were doing, and shortly afterwards received a text from Bob-A, thanking her again and letting her know that they were getting ready to board their flight. She was pleased, and not least because the text meant she was keeping in touch. Next, she called Vinnie, as she desperately wanted to chat to him about Boldo, to see if he was known. All her initial checks had been fruitless, but she’d only done the obvious so far. Vinnie sounded stressed and was obviously busy, so she didn’t stay on the line; she said she’d speak to him later on.

  For now, she would do what checks she could from her desk, and then head up to Preston later to see what she could find. She’d surprise Vinnie after that, and hopefully they’d be able to meet up locally for a drink. Apart from enquiring about Boldo, she wanted to spend a little bit of time with Vinnie; since they had got together they had rarely actually been together. Then the holiday had ended up on the cutting room floor; not the best of starts. She hoped it wouldn’t always be like this, she hoped things weren’t doomed from the start.

  June broke her reverie by arriving at her desk with two mugs of coffee. ‘My, I am honoured,’ Christine said.

  ‘This whole slavery and forced sex trade stuff is really bothering me. It needs exposure.’

  ‘That’s what I was telling you,’ Christine said.

  ‘I know we’ve had the Iqbals’ trial here in Manchester for the domestic slavery thing or whatever the official name for it is, and then the trial in Preston for a brothel full of trafficked women, but I’ve made some calls around and it seems it is not as rare as I thought.’

  ‘To be honest, June, I hadn’t realised either. It’s under the surface, and under-reported.’

  ‘Bit like the sex gangs involving predominantly young Asian males and even younger white isolated females,’ June said.

  ‘Similar, in not having been brought out into the open anything like soon enough, but different in that culture and race are a different issue. I think those in authority with regard to the sex gangs, were over-sensitive to the race thing; scared of being called racist.’

  ‘Whereas, here we have vulnerable young women, predominantly from poor former eastern bloc countries, being exploited by organised criminals using their Roma culture against them,’ June said.

  Christine thought about that, these matters clearly had more in common than she had realised, even though a reluctance to grapple with the issue due to race was probably absent this time. ‘I think there is a willingness to deal this time, but I wonder if the authorities have either underestimated the potential size of the problem, or are just too under-resourced to give it its full attention.’

  ‘Well, if Iqbal is correct, this Boldo character is the top slime ball, so if we can out and embarrass him, the authorities will have to pay more attention — that’s if they are not already. Perhaps we are doing the cops an injustice,’ June added.

  ‘It would make a powerful documentary.’

  ‘Just mind how you go, and keep me informed,’ June said, before shuffling papers to indicate that she was going.

  Christine asked her if she had spoken to Vinnie’s boss; June said that she had, and that a press conference had been held already. It involved an appeal for a vulnerable missing from home, or ‘high risk MFH’ as the cops called it.

  Christine thanked June, who then wandered back towards her office and Christine returned to her computer. She started to type ‘Boldo’ into the search engine.

  *

  Babik rowed inland for about 500 metres before abandoning the canoe by a shallow bank, just before a further footbridge. It was a short walk from the footbridge into the end of Bank Parade, a dead end that led back into the urban areas of Frenchwood and Avenham, south of the city centre. From there, he rang one of the many city centre taxi firms and a cab was with him in minutes. He took the short ride to his and Sue’s favourite pub, where he’d have plenty of time to make sure she was on her own — this time.

  The pub was right in the city centre, on Church Street, but at its eastern end. West led into the main areas, east was quieter and the clientele more regular. Sue and Babik liked the pub because it was anonymous. Most of the regulars didn’t actually know each other, but they did recognise each other. A nod was all that was needed to ensure acceptance without intrusion. Any strangers in there would stand out immediately. And if they were cops, the chances were that at least one of the daytime drinkers would recognise them as such, and they would be outed. The pub had changed its name more than once over the years, but not its customer base. It also only had one entrance and exit: another advantage.

  After ten minutes, Babik was settled with a drink at a table against the wall with a great view of the doorway. He’d not noticed anyone who didn’t fit in, and had received and given the appropriate nods of recognition to the 20 or so drinkers there. Most stood at or near the main bar. He felt his gun push into the small of his back as he leaned back into his wooden chair, he was reassured by its presence, but sure he wouldn’t need it. Sue could have easily given him up at the park, but she hadn’t. And his decoy had worked perfectly, though he owed him a further bung if he ever saw him around town in the future. The poor bloke must have had one hell of a shock.

  Thirty minutes later, in walked a hurried and harried Sue. She spotted him straight away and headed towards him. Babik checked over her shoulder as she approached, but no one had fol
lowed her in. He waited until she was seated, before he spoke. ‘What the fuck happened at the park?’

  ‘I’m really sorry, Cornel, I’d no idea they had followed me there.’

  ‘They hadn’t followed you; they were already there, way ahead of you. My pig radar was going mental.’

  ‘I had to tell them of the meet, but they promised to leave it up to me.’

  ‘But why?’ he said.

  ‘To keep their trust.’

  ‘No, I mean why would they stay away when they want to nick me?’

  ‘Because they know about the hostage. They were scared if they jumped in they would never find out where she is. The plan was for me to find out and then tell them. Finding and releasing her is their number one priority, nicking you is secondary.’

  ‘But how the hell do they know about the hostage?’

  ‘Because I told them, and before you go nuclear, I had to tell them something, to earn their faith.’

  Babik considered her words for a moment before he answered. ‘But they don’t know who?’

  ‘How can they? I don’t know who!’

  He’d forgotten that, but wondered whether, if he had told Sue, she would have passed that little gem on, too. ‘And they have accepted you back into their arms?’

  ‘Totally.’

  ‘So where do they think you are now?’

  ‘Meeting you, of course.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Vinnie waited until they were both back in Harry’s car before giving him the good news.

  ‘What? Doesn’t she understand a lawful order when she hears one?’ Harry spat.

  ‘I’m sure she does, but she said after what had just gone down in the park, it was too risky, not to go alone,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘She didn’t say, but they must have set it up when she was speaking to him through the hedge.’

  ‘So we have to just wait on her contact. I don’t like it.’

  ‘Nor me.’

  ‘What about the tracker in her phone?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Already checked, and guess what?’

  ‘I don’t need to ask. What happens now?’

  Vinnie asked if there had been any responses to the earlier TV appeal regarding the missing from home, and Harry said he hadn’t heard so they should get back to the incident room and find out. Vinnie agreed, and then remembered that with all the excitements of the last 24 hours, he had still not asked anyone to examine the key that Jody Watson gave him. He suggested they call in at a city centre locksmith’s, on the way to the nick, to see if a professional could throw any light on the key’s purpose. Harry agreed. Then, Vinnie suggested they go and speak with Sadiq; assuming he’d been transported from the prison’s cells to theirs.

  ‘Also agreed, and I think we should be a little more direct with him, now that we have him on home turf.’

  ‘Just what I was thinking,’ Vinnie replied.

  *

  Twenty minutes later, Vinnie climbed back into Harry’s illegally-parked car. ‘Any dramas with the local wardens?’

  ‘No problems. Any luck with the key?’

  ‘Not much. The guy said it was for a mortice type of lock, one with five levers, so it was most likely for an exterior door of some kind, but it could easily be for a cabinet or other such item, including interior stores and the like,’ Vinnie replied.

  ‘So, basically it is a key which fits a lock which could be on anything.’

  Vinnie had to suppress a grin. It was unlike Harry to be sarcastic, the frustration was obviously telling on him. ‘Tell me about it,’ Vinnie said. He certainly empathised — the number of times he had sought the advice of so-called expert witnesses, only to receive wishy-washy evidence with phrases such as ‘could well be’, ‘is similar to’ and ‘probably, but not conclusively’. Useless, and always accompanied by a very clear and precisely-stated bill of substantial proportions.

  ‘Come on, let’s get back to the nick, you can check the incident room and the cells while I have the pleasure of ringing the chief,’ Harry said.

  Two cracks in as many sentences. Perhaps humour was Harry’s new coping mechanism, Vinnie thought.

  It was a short drive back to Preston’s central police station on Lancaster Road North, just out of the city centre. Vinnie stopped in the incident room as Harry continued into their SIOs’ office. Nothing of note had come in from the TV appeal, and there had been no missing from homes reported at all in the last 24 hours. Vinnie called the custody suite, before joining Harry in their office.

  ‘The chief is far from impressed,’ Harry stated.

  ‘At this rate, we will no longer be his favourites,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘Not funny, Vinnie. He’s not convinced that Grady is on our side.’

  ‘Well, to be frank, neither are we.’

  ‘I told him that, and he said he was going off line to ring the Director General of the National Crime Agency, to get to the bottom of who Susan Grady really is.’

  ‘That would be good, help us evaluate her better,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘And it brought my conversation with him to a premature conclusion — for now.’

  ‘Not all bad news, then,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘How’d you get on?’

  ‘My bad news is that we still have had no MFHs reported either locally, or from the TV appeal,’ Vinnie told him.

  ‘We need to widen the search.’

  ‘Already actioned that,’ Vinnie said, before adding, ‘but the good news is that custody staff are just in the process of booking in Mohammed Sadiq.’

  ‘Excellent, let’s go and see what he has to say now.’

  Vinnie nodded and followed Harry out of the office.

  *

  ‘You boys don’t hang about, you’re making me feel almost wanted,’ Sadiq said, as Vinnie stood back while the jailor unlocked the heavy steel door on Sadiq’s police cell. Vinnie ignored the comment and told him to come with them.

  They entered an interview room within the custody suite’s main reception area. The room was half-glazed on all sides, including the door. Inside, Vinnie could see Harry waiting on one side of a steel desk. Once inside, Sadiq took up his position on the far side of the desk and Vinnie shut the door, closing out all the noise from the cell corridors. How the custody staff put up with the constant shouting and swearing coming from the cells, only broken by the occasional kicking of the steel doors, was beyond him. Fortunately, it was a job he’d never had to do.

  ‘Ok, Mohammed, you can cut the fake bonhomie,’Vinnie said, as he took his seat next to Harry.

  ‘Who said it’s fake? Any time away from that prison is a bonus, and you didn’t waste any time in coming to see me, I’ve only just been banged up.’

  ‘You’ve changed your demeanour since we last saw you,’ Vinnie added.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry about that, but what with you two coming to see me for a second time so soon after your first visit it had set the bullshit telegraph on fire. I had to play it the way I did, hoping you’d see it for what it was, and you did, thankfully.’

  ‘The screw bent?’ Harry asked.

  ‘As a screw,’ Mohammed said, adding, ‘but it worked a treat and got back to the right ears — those of people with influence.’

  ‘So all good now?’ Vinnie asked, noting that he had dropped the ‘innit’ affectation.

  ‘I only wished that was my only drama.’

  ‘Go on,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘Look guys, I’m not messing you around, nor am I trying to give you rubbish just to get a reduced.’

  ‘Really?’ Harry asked.

  ‘It may have started out a bit that way, but things have changed.’

  ‘How so?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘It’s got personal.’

  ‘Look Mohammed, we are under a bit of pressure here, time-wise,’ Harry said.

  ‘More than you think,’ Sadiq said, and then added. ‘I’ll give you Babik. I’ll even consider turning Queen’s.’
r />   This surprised Vinnie, passing intelligence against a man like Babik was serious enough, but offering to give evidence in court was something else altogether. He wondered if they were being played again, and said, ‘That’s a mighty big carrot you are dangling.’

  ‘And I’ll tell you about his bent cop friend, her name is Susan Grady,’ Sadiq said, before sitting back in his chair. The triumphant look on his face was only temporarily interrupted by a grimace as he scraped his aluminium chair along the floor.

  Vinnie glanced at Harry, before turning back to face Sadiq.

  ‘I must say, you don’t look as shocked as I would have expected,’ Sadiq said.

  ‘And you’ll give Queen’s evidence against her too?’ Harry asked.

  ‘No problem.’

  Vinnie couldn’t understand the change in Sadiq that had occurred since they first met, he had gone from a frightened-looking man chasing the best deal he dare, to something else. Anger. Something had motivated him. But he could see one problem, and voiced it. ‘Look, I’ve got to be honest with you, giving us some intel on which we can quickly act, and then inform the judge of its merit prior to you being sentenced is one thing.’

  ‘But?’ Sadiq asked.

  ‘But, giving evidence in any future proceedings many months down the road will obviously take place long after you have been sentenced,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘So I wouldn’t get any benefit?’

  Vinnie exchanged glances with Harry. Should he have been so up front with Sadiq? He knew when they first met that Sadiq was no idiot; he would have worked it out for himself, in five minutes or five hours. Vinnie hadn’t wanted to be caught in a lie that would ultimately backfire regarding Babik and Grady — particularly if Grady was bent.

  ‘Can’t you tell the judge what I’m offering, before he sentences me?’

  ‘We can go one better, Mohammed, if you give us a signed written witness statement detailing all you know about Babik and Grady, we can show it to the judge,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘Will he take any account of it?’

  ‘He will, but not as much as if you had actually given evidence, and I know it will not be your fault that you haven’t,’ Vinnie said.