Harper began to shake.
There was a sharp rap at the door which made them all jump. Richard spoke for the machine: ‘Interview suspended, 16.47,’ and stopped the tape. Janine went to see who it was, her head still buzzing with the details of Harper’s account. His story so far meshed with Marta’s; both pointed to Sulikov as the man behind the killing.
Richard followed her out. Butchers was there, his face bright with excitement. He held out a hands-free phone. ‘Lee Stone on the phone for you, boss.’
Her heart began to thud. She took the phone, walked a few paces down the corridor. ‘Mr Stone, this is DCI Lewis.’
‘Jez Gleason. I didn’t kill him. I never killed nobody. I need protection, a new identity, the lot.’
She locked eyes with Richard as she listened.
‘Where are you?’
‘Can you do it, get me a safe house?’
‘It’s possible. You’d need to come in and talk to me. We’d need to know how you could help us. Where are you Lee?’
‘You’re tracing this call aren’t you…’
‘No, wait. Please, Lee…’ He’d hung up already, the dialling tone loud in her ear.
Janine closed her eyes, released her shoulders, swore with frustration. ‘He thought we were tracing it,’ she told Richard. ‘He claims he’s innocent.’
Richard looked askance.
‘Wants witness protection.’
‘He’ll ring again,’ Richard reassured her.
He probably would but there was no guaranteeing it. Janine wondered whether there was any other way she could have handled the call that would have stopped him freaking out.
‘The guy’s on the run,’ Richard said, ‘his name’s on posters all over the place, we want to talk to him about two murders and a death by dangerous driving, of course he’s paranoid.’
‘He must think he’s got something to bargain with.’
‘He probably thinks telling us about the trafficking will cut it.’
Janine shook her head. ‘He’ll need a lot more than that. And if he did kill Rosa or Gleason, witness protection won’t touch him.’
Marta’s head ached. She wondered if the police would give her something for the pain. They were still in the cells at the police station. The police woman had told them they would be taken to a detention centre later that night. Zofia was weeping, worried that her family would find out exactly what work she had really been doing; she had told them she was waitressing.
‘They don’t need to know,’ Marta told her. ‘Just stick to your story, there was a mistake with the paperwork. You don’t have to go home anyway.’ The girl glanced at her.
‘They’ll probably dump us at Warsaw airport, get us to talk to the police to see what we know. After that – well…’
‘What will you say?’ Zofia swallowed.
Marta shrugged. ‘As little as possible.’
Marta had no intention of staying in Poland. She’d find a way back to the West. But not with the same set-up. She wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and Sulikov, she knew that much. Harper had always warned them that his boss wouldn’t tolerate anyone causing problems. She’d heard the rumours: the girl who’d run away without paying her full fee, who’d been found and locked in with hungry dogs; the undercover police informant who had been strung from a lamp-post, his tongue posted to his widow. Knowing what he was capable of, Marta had never imagined Rosa would be reckless enough to run away.
She’d hoped that Harper would talk her round, force her to abort the baby.
How had Sulikov found out? Had Harper betrayed her? Marta wouldn’t put it past him. The way he spoke about Sulikov, he was just as fearful of the man as the rest of them.
The place was too warm. Her skin was sticky, her eyes gritty and the pulsing pain in her temples was getting worse. They had been given tea in plastic cups – it tasted disgusting – and little sandwiches with bitter lettuce and shiny, bland cheese. The custody sergeant had asked whether any of them needed to see a doctor. A precise note was made of their possessions, pitiful really, and their details had been taken. Marta wondered whether they would get anything back. Especially her savings. If this had happened back home, it would already be lining someone’s pocket.
It was noisy; there were no carpets or curtains to soak up the noise. Everything echoed off the hard surfaces. The other two were chattering away now in Polish and beyond that Marta could hear other voices, doors banging, bursts of laughter, phones and the whine of a power drill.
The policewoman had gone. She had a nice manner. Not overly officious or trying to bully Marta for answers. She left space instead, tempting you to fill it in. Some of the questions she had asked made Marta think they were close to catching Konrad Sulikov. When the woman talked about giving evidence against him Marta’s insides turned to water. Marta had avoided the detective’s eyes. She couldn’t do that. Not even for Rosa. It would be like putting her head in a noose. Besides, it wouldn’t help Rosa now, would it?
Marta stared at the wall, painted speckled blue and grey, graffiti gouged out of it. Danny 4eva, Stan 03/03/03. Someone had drawn a heart in blood; it looked like blood, reddish-brown and smeary.
Harper was subdued when they resumed the interview. His ashen complexion and continued breathlessness indicated he was still badly shaken. Janine wanted to get as much from him as she could before his solicitor called a halt. ‘How did Konrad Sulikov find out that Rosa was running away?’
Harper shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
Janine stared at him until he became defensive. ‘I didn’t tell him,’ he protested. She wasn’t sure whether she believed him. ‘Who else then? He must have found out somehow.’
‘I don’t know,’ he insisted.
‘Could it have been Lee Stone?’
‘Possibly,’ he said slowly. He thought for a moment. He appeared confused. He pinched at the bony bridge on his nose, screwed his eyes shut in concentration. ‘When Rosa and I were arguing on Sunday he was waiting to lock up. He might have heard us.’ He didn’t sound very certain.
‘Would he have been able to work out what the argument was about?’
‘Erm, maybe. She was yelling at me, I’m going back, with or without your help, that sort of thing. He could have passed it on.’
‘When did you last see Stone?’
‘Sunday night.’
‘Has he contacted you since?’
‘No.’
‘What is Stone’s relationship to Sulikov?’ Richard asked him.
‘Sulikov was grooming him for the big time.’
‘The big time?’
‘Sulikov started out with a two-up two-down brothel in Leeds. He’s got a bloody empire now: places in Liverpool, Birmingham, London, clubs, escort agencies. He’s bringing in girls every month. Some of them working, some of them paying more so they can disappear. He needs people like Stone.’
‘Muscle?’
‘No limits,’ the tic jumped again.
‘Could Stone have killed Rosa for Sulikov?’
Harper shook his head, looking lost. He seemed reluctant to accuse the bouncer. Janine was intrigued. She’d have expected Harper to go the whole hog, incriminating others to prove his own innocence but perhaps he wasn’t sure and had some shred of integrity left.
‘My client can’t comment.’ The solicitor at least didn’t want any idle speculation going on.
Janine rephrased her question. ‘Did you hear or see anything that makes you think Stone may have acted on Sulikov’s say so?’