A Dark and Twisted Tide (36 page)

Gasping, her skin stinging, Dana turned off the shower and let the cold air flood over her. What did it matter if they were watching? It wasn’t as if she had anything else left to hide.

It had been a cervical examination, that was all. She’d had them before. They were unpleasant, you gritted your teeth, relaxed as best you could and waited for it to be over. They didn’t last long and there was absolutely no need to be such a wimp about it, but for the love of God, why had they had to do all that to her? What was going on here?

She stepped out of the cubicle and found a towel. She wrapped it around her shoulders and waited to stop shivering. From the next room came the sound of the lavatory being flushed. Then a low-pitched moaning.

78

Pari and Dana

SOMEONE WAS TAPPING
on the pipes again. Pari lowered herself down until she was kneeling on the tiled bathroom floor. Three taps. The sound of the cistern died away. Pari pressed her face against the wall. There had been people in the room next to hers before now, but no one had tried to talk to her before.

‘Hello,’ she heard, in English.

She said nothing, waiting to see if the voice would speak again.

After a few seconds, it did. ‘I’m Maya. Are you OK?’

Pari understood OK, it was international language. She started to speak, but the sound that came out was somewhere between a moan and a gasp.

‘What’s wrong? Are you ill?’

‘It hurts.’ Finally, Pari was able to talk.

‘Where do you hurt? What happened to you? What’s your name?’

The English words were coming too fast. Pari took a second to process what she’d just heard. ‘I’m sick. In pain. My name is Pari.’

Silence, as though the woman on the other side of the wall was thinking. Then, ‘Have you told the nurse? The woman who brings us food?’

Crouched over like this, the cramps were too painful. Pari got to her feet.

‘How long have you been ill?’

‘I don’t know. Many days.’

‘How long have you been here?’

‘Many days.’

People in the corridor. Pari heard quick footsteps in the room next to her own. Then the other bathroom door being pulled shut.

Dana moved quickly back to her bedroom. There was a knock on the door as it began to open. Nurse Stafford was standing outside, together with the woman who brought her food and a heavy-set, middle-aged man whom Dana hadn’t seen before. He, too, was wearing scrubs, pale blue like the woman’s. His right hand was tucked into his trouser pocket.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Maya.’ Stafford stepped into the room towards her. ‘There’s just one more thing. Was there something you forgot to mention downstairs?’

The other two followed her in and the door closed behind them. Dana’s hand flew to her locket as the woman in blue scrubs approached her. The man pulled his hand from his pocket. Dana flinched, before realizing he was holding a small glass vial containing red liquid. Her hand hesitated, for just a fraction too long. The woman took hold of one arm, the man the other. She could no longer reach the locket.

‘Of course, it’s possible you didn’t know.’ Stafford was a couple of feet away, looking steadily into Dana’s face. ‘The levels we found were very low, but it does raise an interesting question. How could a woman who’s spent the last few weeks on the road from Afghanistan, closely guarded and protected every step of the way, be in your condition?’

Dana shook her head. ‘I don’t—’

‘It’s a very simple test,’ said Stafford. ‘We do it as a matter of routine. We’ve just never had a positive result before. But congratulations, Maya, if that’s really your name. You’re pregnant.’

79

Lacey

LACEY GOT BACK
to the yard shortly after two in the afternoon. Neither she, Buckle nor Turner had wanted to leave their post by Sayes Creek, but Chief Inspector Cook had insisted. If anything happened, they’d be called back, he’d said, but Dana wasn’t due to be pulled out until midnight and there was no way he was going to be involved in a difficult and dangerous rescue operation with a knackered crew. It had been impossible to argue.

Out of habit, she looked for the officer who was keeping an eye on the yard. The ice-cream van that was his temporary home was empty. Nor was there any sign of him wandering around.

Her own boat was empty, too. She popped back up and went to find Eileen. No plain-clothed presence on her boat either.

‘Where are the bodyguards?’ she asked.

Eileen pulled a don’t-ask-me face. ‘They had a call-out that took priority. They’ll be back later.’

‘Better hope our neighbourhood psycho needs the cover of darkness, then,’ muttered Lacey, although privately she was relieved. Being alone for a few hours felt like a good idea.

She’d pulled off her sweatshirt when her phone started to ring.
Not her usual phone – that had been lost in the river along with her canoe. The one she’d used to contact Nadia.

‘I’ve remembered something. I thought I should call you straight away.’

Lacey sat down and pulled a pencil and notepad towards her. ‘Go ahead.’

‘I think I can remember the way they took me, when I left the house,’ said Nadia.

Lacey reached across to the chart table and found the Thames Pilot Book.

‘I’ve been thinking about it ever since I spoke to you,’ said Nadia, when Lacey asked her to go ahead. ‘I bought a map of the river and tried to work it out. I’ve even been down to the water’s edge.’

‘Nadia, we know where you were kept.’ Lacey had found the chart with Sayes Creek. ‘It’s a house very close to the river. We’re watching it at the moment, but anything you can tell me will be useful.’

‘I can show you.’

Lacey looked at her watch. She had to be back at Wapping by ten o’clock. The chances were that the exact details of Nadia’s exit from the house weren’t that important any more. On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt.

‘OK, where are you now?’

‘By the water. A place called St George’s Stairs. I remember passing them that night. And the pier just up-river.’

Lacey looked at the map. St George’s Stairs was an access point to the river very close to the South Dock Marina. The pier Nadia was referring to was Greenland Pier, a busy mooring point for passenger traffic.

‘OK, I’ll come and pick you up.’ She looked round for her car keys. ‘It will take me about half an hour to drive round to you.’

‘But it will not work in a car.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I’ve tried to walk the route and it isn’t possible. There are places a car can’t go.’

‘I think you’ll find a police warrant card opens a lot of gates.’ Lacey checked that she had hers.

‘And there was a building. I was taken to it before they said
goodbye. I can’t find it on land, I’ve been looking all day, but I think I might be able to in a boat.’

‘You want us to go on the water?’ No. Memories flooding back. The head appearing out of the dark water. Strong hands pulling her under. She did not want to go out on the river.

‘Lacey, I’m still afraid of it,’ said Nadia. ‘But I think it might be the only way.’

80

Dana

DANA WAS BEING
marched downstairs again. She was pregnant? How could they tell that quickly, it had been barely more than a day. Christ, she didn’t know whether to smile or scream. They’d reached the first floor, the woman nudged her along the corridor. The treatment had worked! The egg she’d seen on the scan had popped out of its follicle. One of the several million donated sperm had found it and the two of them had decided they might just have a future together. There was a baby growing inside her. And she’d put them both in danger.

She couldn’t panic. She still had the locket. The team would be watching everyone in the house very closely. They’d be here in minutes.

Helen would kill her. Oh, please God, let her have the chance.

They were back at the examination room. The door was pushed open. Someone new was standing just in front of the window, holding up a file to the light. In the top right-hand corner was a small, startled photograph of Dana herself. The man – tall, dark-haired, wearing a well-cut suit – was studying it closely. Then he turned. Alexander Christakos, her fertility consultant.

‘DI Tulloch,’ he said. ‘What an interesting turn of events.’

Dana’s hand shot to the locket. She pulled hard as the three staff
members who were still flanking her all pressed in to stop her next move.

‘This is a police operation and you are all under arrest,’ she said. ‘My colleagues are surrounding the building.’

Christakos picked up the phone and held it out. ‘In that case,’ he said, ‘I suggest you invite them in.’

‘Detective Sergeant Anderson, a pleasure to meet you,’ said Christakos several minutes later, as Anderson burst, red-faced and puffing, into the room. ‘Actually, I think I’ve heard quite a lot about you from a young friend of mine, but we can get to that. Do have a seat.’

He sat down behind the desk and gestured to the chair in front of it, exactly as he had in the clinic in town. He was dressed as immaculately, was as smoothly handsome as ever. Anderson ignored him, addressing Dana instead.

‘Some sort of clinic, Ma’am. Five people in the building other than ourselves. Mr Christakos here, three members of staff and a young foreign woman who looks like she could be a patient. They’re all in separate rooms waiting for us to talk to them. Are you OK?’

Dana nodded. ‘I’m fine, but the woman needs medical attention. She was in a lot of pain earlier this morning.’

As Anderson stepped to the door and spoke briefly to someone outside, Dana gripped the back of the chair. She desperately wanted to sit down and knew she couldn’t do it. She had to look in control.

Christakos gave a small, polite smile. His hands were perfectly still on the desk in front of him. ‘I’m not aware of any medical issues on the part of our guest, but thank you for drawing it to my attention.’

‘What is this place?’ said Dana. ‘What happens here?’

‘These are my private consulting rooms.’ Christakos opened his hands as if to say
Take a look, I have nothing to hide
. ‘This is where I see patients who don’t want to attend a busy London clinic. I’ve only been here for a few months, so we’re not quite up to speed, but I hope in time we’ll be able to carry out simple procedures here.’

‘What sort of procedures?’ said Anderson, from the doorway.

Christakos glanced at Dana, and let the corner of his mouth turn
up in a small, knowing smile. ‘A variety. But largely concerned with assisted pregnancies. A number of our sperm donors come here to donate. It’s more convenient than our clinic in town for those who live south of the river.’

‘What are the girls for?’ said Dana.

He blinked again. ‘Girls, Detective Inspector? I don’t employ girls. I have a number of women on my staff. There is Nurse Rachel Stafford, for example. And Kathryn Markova, who is a sort of office manager, although she, too, has some medical training.’

‘There is a young woman in a room upstairs who I’d put money on being an illegal immigrant,’ said Dana. ‘From what I could tell this morning, she is seriously ill. I’ll ask you again, what are the girls for?’

Christakos gave a small, sad smile, as though she were missing something important, before standing and turning to the window. The glass in front of him was clear, and Dana could see the building immediately opposite. Five storeys high, with rectangular windows, a flat roof and cast-iron balconies. Christakos had apparently gathered his thoughts.

‘Detective Inspector, many years ago, my sister and I entered this country as immigrants. I won’t say illegally, but things weren’t as strict back then as they are now. We’ve done well here, so occasionally we like to help others who need our assistance.’

‘What does that mean exactly?’ said Anderson.

‘Very occasionally, if we hear of young people – not necessarily women – who need help settling into a new country, we sponsor them. We give them a place to stay, assisance in learning English, and eventually we help them find employment.’

‘And you inform the authorities when you do this?’

‘The UK Border Agency has been less than helpful in the past,’ said Christakos. ‘We find we can manage very well without them.’

There was a knock on the door and the uniformed sergeant poked his head around it. ‘A moment, Ma’am.’ Behind him, Dana could see Mizon’s blonde hair.

‘There’s a discrepancy,’ the sergeant said, when she and Anderson joined him in the corridor. ‘The surveillance equipment told us there were eight people in the building, including you. One left by
car just before you called us. So we should have been looking for six, apart from yourself. Trouble is, what we were seeing on the equipment got very confused. We lost track of where everyone was. We’ve checked the entire building, top to bottom, and there are just five people. We’ve been in the basement and up on the roof. Only one young foreign woman, in a room on the ground floor. She’s a bit dopey, but she looks fine. Certainly doesn’t seem to be ill or injured.’

‘There was someone in the room next to mine overnight,’ said Dana. ‘A girl called Pari. In a lot of pain. Check again.’

‘We stopped the car that left here earlier on the approach to London Bridge,’ said Mizon. ‘The driver claims he’s called Kanash and is a doctor working at the Thames Clinic. He had a meeting here with Dr Christakos this morning and is on his way back to work. They’re taking him to Lewisham.’

‘I take it they searched the car,’ said Dana.

Mizon nodded. ‘There were two industrial-sized containers in the boot that he says are cryo-storage vessels. He claims they’re empty but that the clinic are waiting for them.’

‘Come again?’ said Anderson. ‘Cryo what?’

‘Fertility treatment relies upon preserving gametes and embryos for use in the future,’ Dana told him. ‘Sperm, eggs and fertilized embryos can be frozen in liquid nitrogen and kept until needed.’ She turned to Mizon. ‘Gayle, we should have them delivered, but I want someone to see exactly what’s inside them. In fact, can you try and get hold of Mike Kaytes for me?’