The Slowest Cut (25 page)

Hughes sat back slowly and Craig smiled to himself. He didn’t know how Aidan interviewed scum like this, give him ordinary decent criminals any day, but he was a master at it, there was no doubt of that.

“Ah, you see, now that’s our problem, right there, Mr Tate. The girl was at your party, in your house and she was physically and sexually abused. Unless you can tell us how she got there, we’ll have to charge you with all of that.”

Aidan Hughes shook his head exaggeratedly, his face grim. All that was missing was the black square on his head before he condemned Tate to death. Edgar Tate’s eyes widened and he turned frantically to his brief, whispering something in his ear. They watched the exchange knowing exactly what was coming next. They were right. The solicitor turned to Hughes.

“I’d like five minutes alone with my client.”

Hughes nodded curtly and they stood and left the room. As they stood in the corridor outside Aidan Hughes rubbed his face. His next question surprised Craig.

“Do you smoke, Marc?”

“No, sorry. Do you need a cigarette?”

“Yes. I don’t smoke, but there are times when I almost wish I did.”

Craig smiled. He knew what Aidan meant. He had the odd cigar at times of strong emotion, like Italian family weddings and when Man United was in the cup. Now seemed like one of those times. An image of Julia’s twenty-a-day habit popped into his mind, crushing the inclination.

The interview room door opened and the solicitor emerged, beckoning them back in. He spoke first.

“My client is willing to give you some information, in exchange for the charges about the girl being dropped, and a recommendation for leniency on the other charges.”

Hughes glanced at Tate and then back at his brief. “It depends what he tells us.”

He folded his arms and sat back in his chair, waiting to be convinced. The solicitor motioned Edgar Tate on. Patches of perspiration had soaked through Tate’s expensive shirt now, making his underarms and chest wall black. His voice squeaked its way through his first few words and then Tate gradually found his pace. What followed was a tale of ‘poor me’ and ‘not me’ and ‘a big boy did it and ran away’.

Eventually Craig had had enough. He glanced at Hughes, seeking permission to interject, and then he spoke. Craig didn’t just speak; he banged his palm down hard on the Formica table’s top.

“Enough! I’ve heard nothing that would make me change my mind about the charges.” He pointed his finger at Tate. “You really expect us to believe that the girl magically appeared in your house, and you didn’t even know she was there until the police arrested you? That’s rubbish! You brought her there and you’re going to prison for a very long time.”

Tate leaned forward desperately. The sinews in his neck stood out like cords and his eyes were wild.

“I didn’t know anything about her. I don’t even know what she looks like. I wouldn’t involve kids for God’s sake. I have two of my own.”

Poor kids. Craig could see that even the solicitor agreed. Craig kept up the pressure, his voice more intense with each word.

“Who then? Who brought her there? You know, so don’t lie to us. Give us their names.”

Tate looked frantically at his brief then pleaded with Craig. “I can’t. He’d kill me. Honestly he would, he’s killed before.”

He? Was there only one man behind Aurelie’s abduction?

“Then help us get him off the street. Give us his name!”

Craig’s last words were shouted so loudly that Jake would have heard them even without the intercom. He peered through the two-way mirror, marvelling at Craig’s change in tone. This wasn’t the smooth, quiet boss he knew. It was a man who would stop at nothing to get the truth. He was just wondering how far Craig would go when Tate blurted out the name.

“Ryan. His name’s Ryan Carragher. He supplies children to some of the real perverts.” Tate raised his hands in denial. “I have nothing to do with it and I had no idea that he’d brought one to my party. He knows my rules. One party every six months, when my wife takes the kids to America to visit her Mum. Consenting adults only.”

Craig slumped back in his seat, stunned. Ryan Carragher! The Carraghers had been running a family business, with only Jonathan innocent of any abuse! Jonathan had been a victim. Did he know what his big brother had been doing? He shook his head, no, he couldn’t have. Ryan had taken them all in with his act. The grieving son who they hadn’t wanted to shock by telling him about his parent’s sordid private life. What a joke! This was the uneasy feeling he’d had when they’d met Ryan in the relative’s room.

Hughes stared at Craig and then at Tate, then he spoke into the tape. “Five minute break while I confer with my colleague. D.C.I. Hughes and Superintendent Craig are leaving the room.”

Aidan rose and Craig followed quickly. They walked silently down the corridor then pushed through the fire-door to the car-park outside. Craig sucked hard at the fresh air.

“Shit, Marc! Had you any idea?”

“None. I spoke to Ryan Carragher two days ago, as a relative. There was something about him that made me uneasy but I’d no idea that it was this! He gave nothing away.”

Hughes was pacing. “This was a family factory. I’ve only heard about something like this once before, in the States. The whole family was in on the abuse. Shit! I can’t believe this.”

Craig shook his head. “Not all of them. Jonathan Carragher and Ian Carragher’s illegitimate daughter were both victims. Now they’re getting their revenge.”

Hughes spun round to face him. “That means they’ll kill Ryan Carragher next.”

Craig shook his head slowly. “I’m not so sure. He and Jonathan are still on speaking terms. They wouldn’t be if Jonathan knew Ryan had been involved.”

“So he managed to hide his involvement somehow. How?”

“Ryan’s over a decade older than Jonathan. He went away to college soon after Ian Carragher remarried. Perhaps Ryan was already a paedophile, or perhaps when he found out what his father was up to he saw a niche that he could carve out for himself.”

“Children for parties?”

“Perhaps. But the Carraghers and Warner were already using children at the school. When that closed they moved to Newcastle and they would have needed another supply as well.”

“But where does Ryan get them from?”

Craig stared at him blankly.

“The children. The Carraghers lost their supply once the school closed, so where did Aurelie and the kids they held in Newcastle come from? She’s not local and the chances are the boy isn’t either. Is it random abduction or something more organised?”

Suddenly Craig knew. The words had been screaming at them and they hadn’t wanted to hear it. Child trafficking. Aurelie and the other children had been trafficked and brought to Northern Ireland by Ryan Carragher. It had to be how they’d ended up at the Newcastle house. That meant that Ryan Carragher might only be the local boss of a larger kidnapping ring.

“They were trafficked. They must have been. This could be huge. If Ryan Carragher is getting those kids from abroad he isn’t doing it by himself, and there must be a big enough market here to make it worth his while.”

Hughes’ expression alternated between horror and glee. He settled on the latter. “We can crack this, Marc. Between us and Interpol we can get these bastards, I feel it in my bones.”

Craig thought for a minute then nodded. “OK. At the moment Ryan Carragher thinks he’s safe. He’s playing the grieving son and Jonathan has no idea what he did. We need to find a way to use that.”

“And we need to keep Tate quiet, or he’ll tip Ryan off and blow everything.”

“We’ll persuade him of that while Davy sees if he can find a trail from the house back to Ryan Carragher. And we need to see what the Uniforms in Newcastle have found.”

“Surely the kids will be able to I.D. Ryan Carragher?”

“Perhaps, but we need to be careful how we involve them, otherwise some slick bastard of a lawyer will get him off. And you can be sure of one thing; Ryan will be able to afford the best. Whoever he’s involved with abroad won’t want him going down and starting to talk.”

Craig paused for a moment and Hughes knew he’d had an idea.

“What’ve you thought of?”

Craig glanced at his watch. “OK, quickly. I’ve got an idea for a sting. Tell me what you think and then I’ll run it past the CC…”

Five minutes later they’d agreed the details and Craig turned to re-enter the building.

“OK. Let’s go back in and charge Tate with the drugs and prostitution. We’ll say we’re going to investigate Ryan Carragher and expect his full co-operation, and that any hope he has of a deal will go down the tubes if he tries to tip Carragher off. I’ll see what else we can dig up before the briefing.” He glanced at Hughes. “It’s at four o’clock. Can you make it?”

Hughes grinned, showing a set of large white teeth. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

***

Jonathan gazed down at Mai’s sleeping form, watching as she cried and fought invisible foes in her dreams. He wondered what came next. All of the people who had hurt them were dead, Mai had had her revenge and none of them would ever hurt children again. But it still wasn’t enough to give her peace. He leaned over and kissed her pale cheek, surprised again by how soft her skin was.

Mai looked so defenceless that Jonathan shuddered, remembering the first time that Warner had told him to hit her. He’d refused for as long as he could, as her thin arms shook, rattling the clumsy chains they’d used to suspend her. Mai had been so young and frail, but even then her courage had shone through her eyes. She’d told him to go ahead, without making any judgement. She’d known he hadn’t wanted to do it, he was as much a victim as she was; and years later her acceptance had turned to love.

He would have done anything to give her peace, so when she’d suggested they take revenge he’d gone along with it, in the hope that it would mend her tortured heart. But it hadn’t. Their abusers were dead now and any children still at the house would be freed, yet still Mai was crying in her sleep. He didn’t know what more he could do.

If he took her to a doctor it would all come out, and besides, the one time he’d suggested it she hadn’t spoken to him for a week. That only left one thing. Jonathan shook his head at its finality and resolved to find another way, then he wrapped Mai in his arms and drifted back to sleep.

***

The C.C.U. 3 p.m.

Craig had called them all into his small office, and there were people sitting or standing against every wall. He apologised for the crush.

“I wanted to speak to you in here in case anyone walked onto the floor. The investigation’s at a very important stage and we have Drs Winter and Marsham joining us at four for the briefing. D.C.I. Hughes as well.”

Liam interjected. “If he can drag himself away from the sunbed long enough.” He laughed at his own joke and Craig joined in.

“Very funny. OK. Let’s go round and see what’s new. Davy, start us off please.”

Davy was standing beside Liam against the back wall. They looked like very tall bookends.

“OK, boss.” He opened a cardboard folder and distributed the sheets inside. On the top was a picture of Aurelie. “You have a picture of Aurelie as s…she is now. Turn the page and you’ll see a younger girl, that’s Aurelie w…when she was eight. The next page was when s…she was five and so on.” He smiled at Craig. “We’ve had a bit of luck.”

Annette leaned forward. “You’ve found her?”

Davy nodded and pushed back his smooth black hair. “W…We think so. I sent these through to the Gendarmes and the school in the Loire. The school phoned an hour ago with an I.D.”

Craig leaned forward eagerly. “Who is she, Davy?”

“Her name’s Aurelie Masson. Her date of birth is May 2002. S…She’s eleven years old, as she said. The s…school didn’t recognise her because she left there w…when she was seven, to move to another school. When they saw the five-year-old version they I.D.ed her straight away.”

“And the Gendarmes?”

Davy nodded again. “They’ve located her mother and they’re flying her over tomorrow. Apparently Aurelie was abducted from the garden of her own house.” He swallowed hard. “S…she was taken just before her eighth birthday.”

Craig slumped back in his chair. “Three years…. And they’ve been looking for her all this time?”

Davy nodded. “Apparently they’ve had police, private investigators, the w…works. The marriage broke down because of the s…strain, but the parents kept on looking.”

Craig thought of the years that Aurelie had been a prisoner, trotted out for parties to be abused by scum. They were lucky she was still alive. Davy was still talking.

“The boy has turned out to be easier to find. It w…was a bit of a fluke actually. I put out his photos everywhere I could think of and got a call from the Lebanese police. They say he’s called Nassib Bastany, and he w…went missing from Beirut a year ago.”

Lebanon! How far did the kidnapper’s reach stretch?

Liam jumped in. “That fits with the news from Newcastle. They said the boy didn’t say a word and he isn’t any better now he’s with the girl. But if he doesn’t speak English or French then maybe that explains it?”

Craig shook his head. “It wouldn’t have stopped him saying some words in Arabic, if that’s his native tongue. He could be mute from shock, or he’s chosen to be.”

Annette nodded. Elective mutism; she’d seen it with abuse victims when she’d been a nurse. Jake signalled to speak and Craig smiled at his politeness. Another few months with Liam and that would change.

“I spoke to the foster carers, sir, and they said the boy’s eating OK and playing with toys.”

Craig nodded and turned back to Davy. “Lebanon, Davy? Isn’t that where they cook using Tagines?”

Liam looked puzzled. “What’s a Tagine when it’s at home?”

Annette smiled knowledgeably. “It’s a special cooking pot used mostly in North Africa and the middle-East.”

“And Cyprus.”

Craig nodded. “It’s also the name of Ryan Carragher’s restaurant.”

Liam and Davy looked confused. Craig put them out of their misery. He updated them on their interview with Tate, and his revelation that Ryan Carragher was trafficking children into the country to be abused.