‘Absolutely.Should have done it years ago.’
Helen beamed at the seventy-year-old, determined not to react to his jibe.
‘I’m pleased for you, but if you’ve come looking for a job, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you.Business is not what it was, as you can see …’
He gestured dolefully to his empty establishment, but his eyes twinkled with mischief.
‘You’re alright,’ Helen replied, maintaining her smile.‘I’m keeping my head above the water for now, but I do need your help with something.’
‘Helen Grace asking for my help?Well, that is a first …’
‘I’m looking for someone, a young Kurdish woman called Selima.She’s new to the country, possibly brought here illegally, and she needs our help.’
Emre looked puzzled, but not hostile, his loyalty to his country and community as strong as ever, despite his many years’ residence in Southampton.Seizing on this, Helen described the missing woman, focusing on her distinctive tattoos, and underlining the danger she was in.
‘And why are you looking for her?’her companion replied, having digested the details.
‘I would have thought that was obvious,’ Helen replied briskly.‘I think she’s being held against her will, that she’s being subjected to violence and intimidation.’
‘But whyyou?You are not a police officer anymore.’
‘Should that make a difference?I saw what I saw.’
‘It makes all the difference,’ the proprietor said coolly.‘Howdo I know your interest in this poor woman is genuine?That you mean well?’
‘Oh, come off it, Emre …’
‘I feel for this woman, of course I do, if she’s in the hands of thugs and thieves.I haven’t seen her, but if I did, you can be sure I would do something to help her.But I would not contact you, Helen Grace.I would dial 999.’
It was as plain a push back as you could wish to see, revenge perhaps for a past clash in which Helen had come away the victor.
‘You just make sure you do,’ she replied, her voice laced with steel.
There was nothing for her here, apart from further obstruction and humiliation, so thanking the owner for his time, Helen took her leave, keen to press on to the next address on her list.Marching back to her bike, she was suddenly catapulted back in time, to her very first case as a WPC.A fatal road traffic accident had led to her discovery of an illegal trafficking ring, young men enslaved on a local Hampshire farm, forced to work in disgusting conditions without remuneration just to put cut-price turkeys on people’s plates at Christmas.Progress had been hard, as no one believed that a lowly, female traffic officer could have uncovered such a significant and far-reaching crime, but at least Helen had had her uniform back then, her warrant card, to command respect and compel people to play ball.Now she had nothing but her determination to set against those who’d take great delight in refusing to help.It was going to be an uphill battle, a potentially futile crusade, but she was determined to see it through.
She would not be weak today.
Chapter 23
‘Problems at home, DI Brooks?’
Chief Superintendent Rebecca Holmes smiled at her subordinate, but it did not reach her eyes.On the wall behind her, the office clock ticked loudly and Charlie could not resist glancing at it, annoyed to discover that she was twenty minutes late for her regular Friday morning meet with the station chief.Punctuality was something Holmes prided herself on and Charlie’s tardiness had clearly not gone unnoticed.
‘Nothing out of the ordinary,’ Charlie replied with forced cheerfulness.‘Just a last-minute homework crisis.’
This was a lie.In fact, Charlie had had to drag her youngest to school, kicking and screaming, for the third time in as many weeks.Charlie was sure something was up, though Orla flatly denied this, and in the end she’d had to leave her at the school gates quietly sobbing to herself.It was a sight that broke Charlie’s heart, a sorry indictment of her skills as a mother.
‘I trust it’s all resolved now?’Holmes enquired.
This was at best forced politeness, at worst a way of twisting the knife, so Charlie moved the conversation on quickly.
‘Absolutely.Anyway, I’ll need to be brief, as I have to check in with the team.Was there anything specific you wanted us to discuss?’
‘Well, I’ve digested your report on yesterday’s episode.’Her choice of words could hardly have been more damning, ‘episode’ a euphemism for ‘farce’.‘And it doesn’t make for pretty reading.Do we haveanythingto show for your considerable outlay of time and resources?’
‘Nothing concrete yet,’ Charlie conceded, ‘but we do have a lead which I think is promising, a possible link to the smuggling operation.’
‘Who is it?An end user?A contact at the docks?’
