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  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Christine tried to remember some of what Vinnie had told her previously. She knew not to get too close to the van, so was happy to be five cars behind. That was, until the van turned left at a mini roundabout and three of the cars in between didn’t. She followed the van through a major T-junction controlled by traffic lights and lost another cover car. She hoped that having only one vehicle between them would be enough. She’d connected her phone to the car’s Bluetooth and tried Vinnie’s number, noting that it was now after 3 pm. No answer, it went straight to voicemail. She thought about what to say but decided just to let him know that she was in Preston and hoped that they could meet up later. She decided not to say what she was actually doing, until she knew more. It wasn’t information suitable for a voicemail message..

  She was grateful that the rep’s vehicle was a van, as it would have limited rear view assistance for the driver. She knew a lot of modern vehicles now had rear view cameras, but this van didn’t look sufficiently up-to-date. At a further set of lights it turned right, into a major dual carriageway urban thoroughfare, which she noted was called Blackpool Road. The van was heading back towards Preston’s centre. Fortunately, although this was a major road, the speed limit was 30, so she didn’t feel too obvious driving slowly behind the lumbering van. A couple more cars joined the convoy from minor roads: thanks to the height of the van, Christine could see it easily, but doubted that the driver could see her.

  She settled down into the follow, on what was a direct and straightforward road. Things could get trickier as and when the van turned into a minor road, but she’d deal with that when she had to. The road narrowed to a normal two-way single carriageway and passed a large urban park to her right. She got a glimpse of a large football ground, which she took to be Preston North End, before they passed a large retail park a few minutes later. They eventually came to a roundabout, where the van turned right towards the city centre. The area looked far more run down now, and before long the van had turned again. She was starting to feel more and more exposed. She hung back as far as she dared, and eventually saw the vehicle make a series of turns into small side streets, in an area surrounded by retail outlets that had once probably been terraced housing and textile mills. She lost sight of the vehicle and when she approached a T junction from which it had turned right, the van was nowhere to be seen. Damn.

  She spent the next ten minutes surveying the many side streets in the area, passing many industrial units, some obviously old mills and some more recently built prefabricated single-storey affairs. She was conscious that she was getting ever further away from where she had last seen the van, and was about to turn back, when she passed an area of rough land set back from the road. It was wide enough for three or four vehicles and it held one white van and two cars, all parked head first and side by side. The van looked exactly like the one she had been following, but it was only now that she realised she had not taken note of the registration number. Maybe she wasn’t as good at this surveillance malarkey, after all. In truth, she realised that it could be any van, and even if it was the right one, there were no buildings immediately surrounding the makeshift car park. But 30 metres away, there were buildings in all directions. The driver could be anywhere.

  *

  Vinnie didn’t say anything and neither did Harry, as they walked the short distance back to the police station from the crown court. He just followed Harry, partly out of due deference to his seniority — especially given the current atmosphere — and partly because it helped to prevent any conversation. He was hoping that Harry’s temper and complexion would both have subsided by the time they reached their office.

  Five minutes later, they arrived back at their desks and Vinnie closed the office door without having to be told.

  ‘What did I tell you about no porkies this time?’ Harry said, sitting down.

  ‘OK, I over-egged it a bit—’

  ‘A bit? Which part of the “lights and TV on” is only a bit?’

  ‘Look Harry, I panicked, it looked like the judge was going to order disclosure, and we both know what that could have led to,’ Vinnie said, as sheepishly as he could.

  ‘It’s still lying to a crown court judge!’

  ‘Exaggerating a tadge, but not an out-and-out lie. I mean, she has been abducted, without doubt. We just can’t prove it until we find her. A bit arse about face, evidentially.’

  ‘Granted, but you know as well as I do there was no mention of any lights or TV being on when the cops went there.’

  ‘The phone and the handbag bits were true.’

  ‘So you should have just said that, and trusted that the learned judge could draw sufficient value from that to reach the correct conclusion. It’s a slippery slope, Vinnie, once you start with little supporting porkies it’s the thin end of the proverbial,’ Harry said.

  But before Vinnie could reply he was saved by the bell; the telephone bell. Harry’s desk phone was ringing.

  ‘Hello sir,’ Harry started, so Vinnie paid attention. It became obvious that the caller was the chief constable, Brian Darlington. It also became apparent that Darlington was not happy.

  The call didn’t last long and Vinnie couldn’t tell what was being said as Harry’s responses were few, and mostly monosyllabic. When it did end, Harry turned to face Vinnie.

  ‘The chief?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Indeed, and not happy. He’s just come off the phone after speaking to the Director General of the National Crime Agency.’

  ‘Grady?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Indeed,’ Harry said again. Vinnie tensed himself for the shock. As much as Harry and he had come the conclusion that Grady was bent, or had gone over to the dark side and was now in bed with Babik in more ways than one, he was praying that she had at least started as an authorised undercover officer. He knew that if she had at least started off as such, then there was nothing that they would have to tell Judge Wilkins, as nothing had fundamentally changed.

  ‘What did he say?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Initially, the DG refused to discuss things with the chief, said that it was not policy to talk about the existence of undercover officers with anyone, even a chief constable, for all the obvious reasons,’ Harry answered.

  Vinnie felt some relief. It was a fair comment, and not knowing was actually better for them, until tomorrow that was. As soon as Sadiq was sentenced then the case would be over and they would be free from any further obligation to report back to the judge. ‘I can understand why the chief is upset then, but it’s not entirely unexpected,’ he started.

  ‘That wasn’t what upset him,’ Harry said.

  Vinnie now expected the worst. That Grady wasn’t deployed as an undercover officer into Babik, authorised or otherwise.

  ‘If she wasn’t authorised, how the hell did she meet Babik? And what was she doing working in Preston CID in the first place?’ Vinnie said.

  ‘The chief asked the same questions, after he explained the situation to the DG. It was only when he put things into context that the DG agreed to continue the conversation.’

  ‘What answers did he receive?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Not what he was expecting, that’s for sure,’ Harry said.

  ‘Not authorised to operate as a UCO — undercover officer — into Babik?’ Vinnie asked.

  ‘Worse than that,’ Harry said.

  ‘Don’t tell me, Grady wasn’t even a trained UCO, let alone authorised?’

  ‘Worse.’

  Worse, Vinnie thought, how could it get any worse? And he said as much.

  ‘The DG has denied having any officer named DS Grady on the NCA’s staff.’

  ‘He’s just being obstructive, surely?’

  ‘That’s what the chief thought, but according to him, when he pressed the DG he stated categorically that the National Crime Agency does not have a detective sergeant named Susan Grady, and furthermore, that they have no officer working undercover in Preston CID at all.’

/>   Chapter Forty

  The only good thing to come from that bombshell was that it took Harry’s mind off Vinnie’s misdemeanour. They chewed over what it all meant, but did not come up with any theories. Vinnie asked whether they should go back to see the judge and Harry rang Jill at the CPS. While he was on the phone to her, Vinnie’s own phone rang and he smiled when he saw that it was Christine. ‘Hello stranger,’ he started.

  ‘Hopefully, not for much longer. Are you still in Preston?’ Christine asked.

  ‘Yes, are you?’

  ‘I am and I could do with seeing you; you won’t believe what a little digging has turned up. Well, nearly turned up.’

  ‘A dead body would provide light relief after the day I’m having,’ he answered, and they arranged to meet in a city centre wine bar as soon as he was through. Call ended, he turned to face Harry. ‘What did Jill say?’

  ‘Says to sit tight. Says that the judge had already ruled Grady an unreliable witness with undoubtedly unreliable evidence, and any new disclosures over her status simply emphasises that.’

  ‘True, I suppose,’ Vinnie answered.

  ‘Says that the reasons for not disclosing anything to the defence barrister, or anything at all to Fletcher, remain the same; the danger posed to Amal Sadiq as evidenced by police observations at the house, relayed by you on oath.’

  Vinnie didn’t answer, he didn’t like the way the conversation was swinging back to him. Harry went on to say that he would give Vinnie the benefit for now, until he’d slept on it. He suggested that Vinnie should also have an earlier finish, although he asked him to stay local. He wanted them both to have an early start.

  Vinnie apologised again, and hoped that Harry would wake up in a more lenient mood. He had a good and close working relationship with Harry, which he didn’t want to damage. It was easy to forget sometimes that Harry was a super. Not that he’d ever do so intentionally. He told Harry that he’d stop at the police training centre on the outskirts of Preston that night, but Harry didn’t say if he would do the same. Vinnie suspected he’d opt for somewhere more comfortable; a break from each other would probably be a good thing.

  Harry bade him good evening, and as soon as the super had left the office, Vinnie rang Christine.

  *

  ‘My God, you won’t believe the day I’ve had,’ Christine announced, as she arrived at their table. Vinnie hadn’t been there long.

  ‘Do you a blind swap,’ Vinnie said.

  ‘That good, huh?’

  ‘Let me get you a drink, and then we can exchange tales of woe. The menu looks good, if you fancy eating here?’

  ‘I’m starving; I’ll check it out while you get me a large Aussie white.’

  Vinnie nodded and headed to the bar. As he was waiting there he couldn’t help a backward glance at Christine from distance, as she read the menu. Tight-fitting blue jeans complemented her baggy flowing top; she looked beautiful. He felt guilty at coming straight here from the office without first sprucing himself up. He turned to catch his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, which only served to emphasise the point.

  Back at the table Christine spoke first, she was obviously buzzing with the events of her day. And so was Vinnie, once she had explained.

  ‘My God, we had no idea of a second, or should I say a third, brothel run by Babik,’ he said.

  ‘Who is Babik?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s the top man we are chasing at the mo. Wanted for two murders and the missing from home, which we believe is abduction.’

  ‘Wow, he sounds nasty.’

  ‘He is.’

  ‘But he’s not the top man.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Vinnie said, as the waiter arrived. Christine didn’t answer until he’d taken their orders and walked away.

  ‘He’s not the man in total charge of the brothels, as in, he’s not the one who is actually trafficking the women into the country,’ Christine said.

  ‘I can’t go into it too much, Christine, but as he is running the business, we are sure he is the one bringing the women in,’ Vinnie said, immediately regretting how patronising he had just sounded.

  ‘You sure, Mr Bigshot Detective?’

  ‘Sure,’ Vinnie said, ignoring the wide grin on Christine’s face.

  ‘Are you £50 sure?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said again.

  ‘But £50 sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ Vinnie said, already feeling he’d just walked into a trap.

  ‘Your man Babik might be running things locally, but that’s it. Effectively, the number two in the food chain,’ Christine started.

  Vinnie smiled at the moniker ’number two’; fitting, he thought.

  ‘But the top honcho is a bloke called Boldo. A Romanian gypsy who is believed to be staying somewhere around here.’ Christine leaned back into her chair and looked pleased. Vinnie knew that she loved to play detective with him, and he also knew that she won more often than he would like to admit. But if what she was saying was true, this was a serious development. ‘What, here in the UK?’ he asked.

  ‘Here in Preston,’ she answered. ‘Find him, and you’ll find your murderer no doubt.’

  She was certainly right about that, he thought. Then she went on to explain about her trip to the Iqbals’ home and her surveillance of a dirty old man posing as some sort of rep.

  ‘You really are in the wrong job,’ Vinnie said, when she’d finished.

  ‘I look forward to spending your money on a new top.’

  ‘We’ll need to prove it first, but I’ll be on it straight away in the morning.’

  ‘Promise you’ll share?’ she asked.

  ‘As much as I can, you know that.’

  ‘I can feel the story from my side taking shape.’

  ‘Another scoop?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t use that word; you know it sends me crazy.’

  Vinnie laughed, and their meals arrived. He waited until the waiter had finished serving before he spoke. ‘Now it’s my turn.’

  ‘Can’t wait,’ she said.

  Then Vinnie talked her through the events of his day.

  ‘Do you think Harry will suspend you again?’ Christine asked, after he’d finished his tale.

  He remembered when he’d first been forced underground for irresponsibly firing his gun, whilst chasing the monster Daniel Moxley. It had forced him to work unofficially, in order to clear his name; it was how he’d first linked up with Christine, so she could be the public face of his underground enquiries. They got their man, he got reinstated, Christine got her scoop — and look at them now.

  ‘I hope not,’ he said, pausing to take a sip of his beer. ‘I can’t see it ending well for me this time if he does.’

  ‘Harry won’t suspend you, he needs you; he’s just making you sweat, to prove a point. After all, you should have heeded his earlier warning,’ she said.

  ‘I hope you are right, and you are definitely right on the last point. Do you want another drink?’

  Christine said that she did, but as they both had to drive back to Manchester, they should leave it. Vinnie then told her that he was staying locally, and then an idea hit him. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy roughing it in police training school accommodation?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, I could do with staying local; I want to have a sniff around tomorrow in the vicinity where I lost that van. But don’t they have basic rooms with single beds in them?’

  ‘They do, but you can squeeze two in at a push.’

  ‘Sounds like you are talking from experience, Vinnie Palmer,’ Christine said, grinning.

  Vinnie could feel his cheeks heat up so didn’t answer straightaway. ‘So I’m told,’ he said and then moved the conversation on. ‘There’s a pub opposite called The Anchor, we can leave our cars there and then wander across when we want. That way, we can have a proper drink and make a night of it.’

  Christine agreed on two conditions. One, that when they went past the gatehouse he would use his warrant card but in
troduce her as a detective chief inspector. He rolled his eyes before agreeing. ‘And two?’ he asked.

  ‘I get the side of the bed with a wall, you can fall out onto the floor, but I’m not.’

  They both laughed and it took away any embarrassment. Not that they hadn’t shared a bed before, they had done so in Majorca for the couple of nights they stayed. But due to all the ensuing drama, they hadn’t had the opportunity for any intimacy, then or since. Vinnie could read the subtext; it looked as if that was going to change tonight.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Babik drove the blue Vauxhall into Fletcher Road, in the Deepdale area of the city that had once been a popular haunt for street workers, and still was but to a lesser degree. Babik knew that the smackheads selling themselves here were from the bargain basement, and attracted the same standard of punter. He was heading to their main premises, it was a working mill by day and a brothel by night, and he only had five girls working it, but they were premier league. That was why it was so important the cops didn’t know about the place. The few lucky punters who were allowed in there, paid top money for the privilege. He explained this to Susan as he drove from Fletcher Road into a side street

  ‘I’m certain they have no idea; you’d have known by now if they had,’ Susan said.

  ‘That’s what I thought, but I need to be sure. They might know of the place, but not where it is. That’s why I need you to go back in and check things out.’

  ‘No problems. But why are we calling in during the day?’ Babik gave her a glance. She must have read his mind as she went on. ‘I mean, won’t it be a problem, a risk?’

  ‘I wouldn’t normally, but we may have a small problem to attend to,’ Babik said, before explaining further. He told Susan that the five girls who worked there were normally kept elsewhere during the day. That the roof level of the mill was usually sealed off and secured, but if there were any women present, they wouldn’t be working. The mill workers had no idea that up there, were en suite luxury boudoirs.

  ‘How do you keep the workers from nosing around?’