Dishonour (30 page)

Lilly instinctively covered her face with her hands and Jack slammed on the brake. His car slid to a halt, batting traffic cones aside in its wake. As the car behind screeched to a stop, its horn blaring, the limo accelerated away, as did Jalil’s Ford.

‘Are you OK?’ Jack panted.

Lilly waved wildly at the phone sensor. Jack grabbed it, turned it off and shoved the handset up his jumper.

‘Are you hurt?’

She was shaking uncontrollably and her neck felt strained, but no, she wasn’t hurt.

‘We’ve lost them,’ she said.

Jack nodded and slapped the steering wheel with his palms.

Taslima scrabbled into her bag and turned down the volume on her phone. Although faint there were all sorts of noises coming from it and she was terrified Jalil would hear.

‘What was that?’ he asked.

Taslima shrugged. Behind them a group of women were leaning out of the windows of one of those stupid stretch limos, screaming and singing.

‘I think it’s that lot,’ she said.

Jalil checked in his rear-view mirror. ‘Slags,’ he declared.

She couldn’t see Lilly and Jack but assumed they were behind the limo. She had no idea where they were and searched the horizon for something familiar. How long had they been driving? Forty minutes? An hour? How many miles from Luton were they?

‘Is it far?’ she asked.

He looked at her sideways. Perhaps she was asking too many questions, making him suspicious.

‘I’m just anxious about the flight,’ she added.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘We’ll be there soon.’

DI Bell cracked his knuckles, something the old man had told him to stop throughout his childhood. Admittedly, it
didn’t fit in with his image as a smooth operator, but somehow it released tension.

And he was feeling the tension.

The Khan case was going to be the making of him, the platform from which he would rise to the upper echelons of the Force. It would give him a level of credibility that he could use to his advantage. In a couple of months he would apply for a transfer to the Honour Attacks and Forced Marriages Unit. Their profile and allocated resources was growing and Bell could make a real name for himself. Comments on Radio Four, interviews in
The Times
, he could see it all now.

He had it all planned out.

Then Jack fecking McNally swanned in with this case of a missing girl.

Not only was it taking the wind right out of his sails, there was an outside chance that the body Jack had locked up for it might have had something to do with the Khan murder.

He pulled on his jacket and smoothed down the fabric. He was destined for the highest ranks. It had been expected since the day he had joined and he had spent all his career mapping it out, working towards it. There was no way he was going to let it all collapse. He trotted downstairs to the custody suite and checked the white board.

‘How long’s left on the clock?’ he asked the custody sergeant.

The sarge checked his watch. ‘Six hours.’

DI Bell scowled. Jack’s time was running out. Had he managed to find anything?

‘Has McNally called in?’ he asked.

‘Nah,’ said the sarge. ‘But that’s Jack all over.’

Typical. McNally was the worst sort of copper, all unfinished paperwork and bleeding heart. Certainly not the type to crack a serious case in six hours. A soft touch.

And yet he’d heard all the stories. Only a few months earlier, Jack had been involved in a shooting and had taken out some kid at close range. So not that soft.

‘Give me the keys to ten,’ Bell said.

The sergeant raised an eye.

‘I just want to check if he’s ready to talk,’ said Bell. ‘See if there’s anything that can help Jack.’

The sarge reached for the phone. ‘Let me get his brief.’

Bell placed his hand over the receiver. ‘Not an interview,’ he said. ‘Just a quiet chat in his cell.’

‘Absolutely not.’ The sarge shook his head. ‘You know me, everything done by the book.’

Bell buried his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge to crack his knuckles.

‘In normal circumstances I’d agree, but there just isn’t the time.’ He could see the sarge wavering.

‘If I can get anything out of him that will help Jack nail this bastard then it’s got to be worth it.’

‘You won’t be able to use anything he says,’ said the sarge.

‘Not directly,’ Bell agreed, ‘but I might get something we can use another way.’

The sarge touched the pocket where he kept his warrant card.

Bell made a last-ditch attempt. ‘Will you be happy when we have to let that monster go?’

The sergeant reached behind him and tossed a set of keys to Bell. ‘Ten minutes, and I didn’t see anything.’

Bell peered through the hatch of cell ten. Malik was positioned on the floor doing push-ups, his shoulders like pistons. Christ, the man was strong.

Bell unlocked the cell and stood in the doorway.

Malik continued without looking up. The smell of his sweat filled the room.

‘Can we speak?’ Bell asked.

Malik placed one hand behind his back, taking the weight of his entire body onto the other. He grimaced at the floor, but showed no signs of stopping.

Bell closed the door behind him and moved to the bed. The enormity of the other man and the sheer animal energy of him was like an assault. Bell tried to hold back his fear.

‘Sergeant McNally is sure you attacked Ryan Sanders,’ he said. ‘He even thinks you might have killed Yasmeen Khan.’

Sweat poured down the butcher’s face and pooled on the concrete below his chin. He panted with each move.

‘He’s out there now trying to find Aasha,’ said Bell.

At last Malik stopped. He gripped the bottom of his T-shirt, pulled it up to his face and wiped it dry. When he let it drop, the wet stain turned Bell’s stomach.

‘I’d say finding Aasha was the key, wouldn’t you?’

Malik didn’t look at him but lay down on his back and began a series of sit-ups, each lift punctuated by a sharp whistle of air.

Bell watched him for a second, then left.

‘Anything?’ asked the custody sergeant.

Bell passed back the keys. ‘Not a word.’

When Jalil’s car pulled off the main road and down a dirt track, Taslima felt relief flood over her. Throughout the journey he had hardly spoken and she was terrified that he would change his mind.

‘We’re here?’ she asked.

Jalil nodded.

Taslima glanced in the wing mirror but there was no sign of Jack’s car. To be fair, she expected Jack and Lilly to stay well back. They wouldn’t want to give away their presence until they were sure this was the right location.

‘Is Aasha on her own here?’ Taslima asked.

‘When I’m not here,’ said Jalil.

‘No other girls then?’

Jalil frowned. ‘We’re not running a hotel.’

Taslima blushed. ‘I just thought maybe you were helping other families like ours.’

‘Well, you thought wrong.’

‘What about Yasmeen Khan?’

‘Never heard of her.’

Taslima watched his expression carefully. She was almost sure he was telling the truth.

They turned left through iron gates and arrived
outside an old farmhouse surrounded by fields and outbuildings. The sun was still shining and birds were singing. Under normal circumstances Taslima would have felt enchanted.

‘A farm?’ asked Taslima.

Again the man just nodded and unlocked the large oak door. Taslima checked her phone was still switched on. An animal bleated nearby and she turned to the sound.

‘What’s that?’ she asked.

Jalil sighed. ‘Let’s just get on with it.’

He led her down a corridor, each door along it locked, until they came to the very end.

‘Aasha’s in there?’ Taslima asked.

Jalil produced another key. ‘Well, it isn’t the Queen of Sheba.’

In the gloom and airlessness of a room without windows a young girl was huddled in the corner. When she lifted her face to the open door and saw Taslima standing there she couldn’t hide her surprise.

Taslima stepped into the room. ‘Hello, Aasha.’

The girl pursed her brow and Taslima’s heart skipped a beat. Would Jalil suspect they didn’t know one another? Surely the look on Aasha’s face said it all.

‘Get up now,’ she blustered, ‘we’re leaving.’

She widened her eyes, trying to signal to Aasha that she needed to play along, but the girl didn’t budge.

‘Who—’

‘Come on,’ Taslima almost shouted. ‘We can’t waste time talking.’

‘Hang on a minute.’ Jalil held up his hand. ‘I thought you two knew each other?’

Taslima turned to him and grinned. ‘Of course we do. I’m Aasha’s auntie.’

Jalil screwed up his mouth. ‘I thought you said you were her cousin.’

‘Auntie, cousin,’ Taslima waved her hand at him, ‘it’s all the same, no?’

Briskly, she walked across to where Aasha was still sitting. ‘Now get up, young lady. We have a plane to catch.’ She held out her hand to Aasha to pull her to her feet. With her back to Jalil she mouthed the words ‘Trust me’ and prayed that the girl would.

Aasha seemed bewildered and her eyes glistened with tears as she looked at Taslima’s outstretched hand.

Taslima stood in the same position for what seemed like for ever when at last Aasha held out her own hand and their fingers touched.

‘Good girl,’ said Taslima. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’

Aasha nodded but there were still tears in her eyes.

‘I need the toilet,’ she murmured.

Taslima turned to Jalil and raised her eyebrow.

Jalil’s left eye spun in circles. ‘This way.’

Sweat made Malik blink. A salty trail of it ran down his face. He wiped his hands across his eyes but they were soaking too, as was his T-shirt.

Working out in his cell wasn’t easy but he needed to stay focused. The police could place him at the Clayhill Estate by the blood from his nose, but he would come up with an explanation for that. Without any witnesses they couldn’t disprove it. The boy wouldn’t be saying
anything for a long time, so there was only the girl to worry about.

As long as Jalil held firm there was no way the police would find her. Then when Malik got out of here, he’d get rid of her himself.

It hadn’t been part of the deal but it was the only way.

No witnesses.

He inhaled through his nose, sweat rattling in his nostrils. He wished it were anyone but Jalil with the girl. They’d met in prison, of course. Malik had been doing a lump for GBH and Jalil had been on remand for some road-rage thing.The brother wasn’t stable at the best of times, but under pressure he was a liability. Sometimes at night he would punch the wall till his knuckles bled.

A black brother on a transfer from Brixton got them into reading stuff about Afghanistan. Surrounded by low-life junkies and paedophiles, Malik could easily understand how you had to keep these people under control. You had to impose order.

On the out, he and Jalil set up the Luton branch of the PTF. Malik liked the kudos it gave him in the community, how people came to him with problems that needed solving unconventionally.

Jalil liked being part of it but he was still a grade A nutter. Malik generally only used him as extra muscle.

He screwed his eyes shut as another rivulet poured into them. They stung like hell. He reached for the blanket on his bed to wipe his face. As he pulled it towards him he heard a clunk as something heavy and metal hit the concrete floor of the cell.

When he cleared his eyes he looked down. It was a
mobile phone. He glanced at the door and back again. It must have been hidden in the folds of the bed.

He hooked it with his foot and dragged it to him. As he turned it over in his fist he wondered how it had got there. The DI was one stupid mother if he had dropped it.

Frankly he didn’t care. It was a gift from Allah. He stabbed a number and brought the phone to his lips.

‘It’s Malik.’

‘Oh man, am I pleased to hear from you.’ Malik could imagine Jalil’s eye doing somersaults. ‘When did they let you out?’

‘They didn’t.’

Jalil was incredulous. ‘Then where are you ringing from, man?’

‘Forget about that, brother, and listen to me carefully,’ said Malik

‘OK.’

‘The police are trying to find the girl.’

‘You’re not joking, brother. They’re at the Hassans’ place now. If they start chatting we’re all in trouble.’

‘Don’t worry about the Hassans. They won’t say anything.’

‘I hope you’re right because I didn’t like the look of the young one,’ Jalil was gabbling. ‘He looked like just the type to lose his nerve and I don’t know about you but I am not ready to do time for this.’

‘Nobody is doing time,’ Malik growled. ‘The Hassans know what will happen if they squeal and there is nobody else but the girl who can give the police what they need.’ He paused to let this information sink in.
‘We just need to make sure the police don’t get anywhere near the girl.’

‘That’s under control, brother,’ Jalil laughed. ‘Where she’s going they won’t ever find her.’

Malik stopped short. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Her family are sending her away, man,’ Jalil lowered his voice. ‘There’s some auntie here now to take her.’

Malik shook his head. How could the Hassan brothers have organised that without their parents’ agreement?

‘That doesn’t sound right to me.’

‘She said the family sorted it.’ His voice was tinged with panic. ‘She said she was flying out tonight.’

Malik’s eyes were throbbing and he dug the heel of his hand into their sockets, one after the other.

‘Use your brain, brother. Don’t you think the police will have put a stop on the girl’s passport? Don’t you think every airport will have a picture of her?’

‘So who’s that woman?’ Jalil was breathing heavily. ‘Who is the lying bitch?

‘Listen to me,’ Malik’s voice was barely above a whisper. ‘You need to deal with this and you need to deal with it now.’