They listened again, everyone crowding in this time.
‘Certainly could be a printer,’ DC Williams said, although she didn’t sound convinced.
‘But surely it wouldn’t be that loud, unless it’s printing advertising posters or something?’
Charlie could feel the energy in the room dropping, so stepped in quickly.
‘Let’s not get distracted going down rabbit holes.We’ll mullon it tonight, have another listen tomorrow.What about the number the call was made from?’
‘A mobile number via a Lenovo pay-as-you-go SIM,’ DC Roberts answered, showing Charlie the digits.
‘So it wasn’t withheld?’she responded, surprised.
‘No, it wasn’t, but according to Lenovo, this was one of only two calls that’s been made from that number, despite the fact that the SIM was bought months ago.’
‘By whom?’
‘A Mr John Smith,’ DC Roberts replied, pulling a face.‘Given that the SIM was sent to an Amazon locker for collection and the home address given doesn’t actually exist, I think we can assume it’s not his real name.’
‘So he’s obviously taking great pains to protect himself, which would suggest thereissome method here.That he’s not a random hoaxer,’ Charlie countered, seizing on this new information.
‘Even so, unless he uses the phone again, we’ve got no way of finding him.Odds on the SIM’s already in the bin.’
Charlie tried not to let her anger show, though she wasn’t entirely sure she succeeded.Was it her imagination or did the teamwantthis operation to fail?Swallowing down her frustration, she responded curtly:
‘Maybe, but if we feel this guy is relevant, then we have to pursue him.It’s possible this man may have rung in with other tip-offs, even if he used a different number to conceal his identity.Thanks to Border Force, we now have voice recordings of all the tip-offs made to the hotline, so our first task is to go through these, see if the same guy crops up again.If we can get dates, times, perhaps divine a pattern of some sort, then we may be able to find him.’
DC Roberts was looking at her with ill-concealed alarm, theidea of doggedly listening to a mountain of audio messages clearly horrifying him.
‘There are scores of them,’ he protested.
‘Then you’d best make a start straight away.Who wants to assist DC Roberts?’
There was a long pause, before DC Williams reluctantly raised her hand, followed shortly afterwards by DC Malik.
‘Excellent, quick as you can, please …’
Turning, Charlie marched off to her office, feeling several sets of eyes following her.She could feel the mood in the room, sense their disquiet, and though she longed to tear a strip off them for their lack of belief, she understood their hesitation.Yes, they had a lead, a slim avenue of investigation to keep them busy, but would it actually yield anything?
Or were they simply clutching at straws?
Day Three
Chapter 22
Helen roared through the city streets, enjoying the buffeting winds that assaulted her body and cleared her mind.Last night, she had been in a strange place, her sleep disrupted by nagging fears and vivid nightmares, but she’d risen this morning determined to be positive and purposeful.Despite all that life had thrown at her, the many cruelties, injuries and indignities she’d endured, she’d always found a way to get back on her feet and rejoin the battle.Today would be no different.Today she would make a difference.
Swinging left onto Marsham Street, she reduced her speed, before bringing her Kawasaki to an abrupt halt at the junction with Balfour Road.Killing the engine, she dismounted, parking up in a bay littered with electric scooters, which lay on their sides like so many fallen dominoes.Shaking her head, Helen stepped over them, annoyed that the world had grown so careless and selfish, even as a discarded burger wrapper danced past, blown down the street by the gusting wind.Pulling off her helmet, Helen scanned the quiet street, her eyes fixing on the down-at-heel money exchange outlet opposite.This was her first port of call today, one of many such establishments she intended to visit.
Her plan was simple.It would be a laborious and probablyfruitless task to engage with local refugee charities or action groups committed to tackling human trafficking.They had few resources, she had no right to demand their assistance, and it was unlikely they would be able to shed much light on the army of illegal, unseen workers who permeated every sector of society.Prostitution, domestic work, car washes, nail bars, hospitality, industrial cleaning – there was no end to the number of different roles these poor souls performed, so trying to seek out Selima by trawling the mean streets of Southampton would be a hopeless task.There was, however, another potential route to seeking her out.
Some of the desperate workers who came to the UK illegally were kept in conditions of absolute slavery, with no pay, no freedom, no agency at all.The majority, however, were given some form of remuneration, however meagre and unfair that pittance might be.This was not done out of kindness, it was purely a business decision.If those who journeyed to Europe with the help of the gangs were able to send money home, then this would encourage others to follow, mistakenly assuming that things had worked out well for the pioneers who went before.A few pounds wired from Southampton to Turkey, Syria or Afghanistan might make a huge difference to those left behind in war zones or beset by natural disasters.During her many years spent pounding the streets of Southampton, Helen had visited dozens of the small, independent money transfer outlets that littered the city.Visiting them all would take several days, so she had decided to prioritize those outlets that had Turkish owners or strong links to that part of central Asia.This list was much smaller and Money Transfer Fast was first up.
As Helen stepped inside, the elderly owner looked up, his expression shifting from hope to hostility as she approached theglass.Clearly he recognized her and, judging from his reaction, was not well-disposed towards the former detective inspector.
‘Morning, Emre.I trust you’re keeping well?’
‘Fine.And you?Enjoying your career break?’
