Day One
Chapter 1
It was now or never.If she didn’t act, if she didn’tseizethis unexpected opportunity, she might never get another chance.
Selima kept her head down, shuffling along at the back of the line of silent workers, looking for all the world as broken and listless as them.But inside her heart was racing.She’d long given up hope of freeing herself from her torment, the soul-crushing routine of back-breaking labour and casual violence, but fate had thrown her a lifeline, one last chance to gain her freedom.
She wasn’t sure what the injured woman’s name was – she was a new addition to their ranks and didn’t speak much English – but whoever she was, she had Selima’s undying gratitude.Their team of a dozen workers, clad in a uniform of drab joggers and tatty face masks, had been trudging back to their transport when the new recruit had suddenly collapsed.Her legs had gone from underneath her and she must have hit the ground hard, for she appeared to be unconscious, her mouth slack, her eyes rolled back.It was shocking, unexpected … and it jolted Selima from her torpor.She’d been following her co-workers in a daze, stumbling towards the open mouth of the van, but the poor woman’s collapse had roused her.Selima looked at the stricken woman, then up at the awaiting van, a shiver running down her spine.She’d sat mute and hopeless in the blacked-out interiormany times before, but tonight the mouth of the van seemed even more menacing than usual.Selima had the strong feeling that if she stepped inside again, she might be swallowed up completely, disappearing from the earth as surely as if she had never existed.The thought stung her, bringing tears to her eyes, the horror of never seeing her children, her beloved husband again, too much to bear.Somehow she had to resist, somehow she had to find the will tosurvive.
Now she had her chance.Naz, their chief minder, a pitiless thug with heavy scarring around his unmoving, prosthetic eye, was stooped over the young Syrian, slapping her face with his rough palm.His charge failed to respond, however, prompting an anxious look at his accomplice, who remained by the van doors, counting the workers in.Aggravated, but concerned, the associate now hurried over, keen to be away before they were spotted by someone.This was highly unlikely of course – they were in a scruffy back-alley in the dead of night – but his anxiety persuaded him to drop his guard.For a moment, the eleven queuing women were unattended, the injured worker occupying both guards’ attention.The others seemed clueless as to how to respond, their lengthy imprisonment robbing them of all agency, but Selima was not going to let this golden opportunity pass.
She took one step to the left, heading away from the line of human statues.Then another, moving obviously out of formation now.She half expected to be yanked back into line, a snub-nosed revolver shoved in her face, but darting an anxious glance in her captors’ direction, Selima saw that the two men were still crouched over their charge.Speeding up, she padded away, the mouth of a nearby alleyway beckoning.She had no idea where it led, but she assumed it would spit her out into a street where there would be people, life, perhaps a police officer.Anything – arrest, incarceration, even deportation – would be better than this.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
Selima kept walking, breaking into a half-jog, praying that this snarled question was aimed at the ailing woman.But as she heard her minders scramble to their feet, she knew she’d been spotted.A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed this, Naz now tearing towards her, his face contorted with murderous rage.Already he was reaching into his jacket, to pull out what?An iron bar?A gun?It was too late to slip back in line.Too late to pretend she’d made a mistake.A rebellion like this would not be tolerated, her life forfeited, which meant Selima had no choice.
She had to run.
Chapter 2
She ran her index finger down his face, gliding gently over his nose to his mouth, before deftly plucking the joint from his lips.Startled, Helen’s companion looked up at her, an expression of amused outrage on his handsome face.
‘I was enjoying that …’ Christopher protested, reaching out a strong arm to try and reclaim his prize, even as Helen leaned back, keeping it out of reach.
‘You know the rules, you can’t smoke in here,’ she teased, nodding towards the opulent interior of the penthouse hotel room.
‘Don’t be such a killjoy.The smoke detectors never work in these places.’
‘And besides,’ Helen added, continuing to evade his playful lunges, ‘smoking marijuana is illegal.Didn’t they teach you that at the National Crime Agency?’
This provoked a laugh from her date, who leaned back into the plump pillows, clasping his hands behind his head to reveal his broad chest.
‘So, what are you going to do, Helen?Arrest me?’
His eyes sparkled mischievously for a moment, before he added:
‘Oh no, wait, you can’t, can you …?’
Helen’s expression narrowed.She’d only been seeing Christopher for a couple of months, but during that time he’d taken great delight in teasing her about her self-imposed exile from the world of law enforcement.He was an experienced forensic accountant, shedding light on the financial misdeeds of gangsters and fraudsters, whilst she had walked away from a highly decorated career as the head of the Major Incident Team at Southampton Central.She’d quit on a point of a principle, and didn’t regret her decision for a minute, but his good-humoured barbs still landed, tapping into an uncertainty about her identity, her role in life.She was no longer Detective Inspector Helen Grace.She was just … Helen.
As if reading her mind, her bedfellow continued:
‘Tell you what.Instead of hectoring me like an angry school ma’am …’
Helen frowned, but Christopher persisted, unabashed:
‘… why don’t you take a puff yourself?It won’t kill you.It might even do you some good.You’ve been very tense of late.’
He reacted too slowly, Helen snatching up a pillow with her free hand and slamming it into his cheek.Laughing, he fended off her attack, continuing his provocation.
‘Go on, I dare you.Just one tiny little puff …’
Helen glared at him, the smoldering cigarette still clutched in her fingers.She had always been a smoker, so it wasn’t a great leap, but she’d never been a fan of drugs.Still, a challenge was a challenge.
‘Have it your way …’
Placing the joint to her lips, she inhaled deeply, rolling the smoke around her mouth, before letting it slide from her nostrils, gentle plumes drifting up into the air.
