Police stations at night always took Caelan back to her days in uniform. The still, gloomy corridors, the noise and bustle of the custody suite. The bellowing, the threats.
The misery.
The drive from Greenford had taken about an hour, Mulligan swearing and muttering in the back seat, Ewan sitting beside him, watching his histrionics like an anxious, exhausted parent.
Caelan swung into the car park, spotting Penrith’s car immediately, Achebe’s too. She reversed into a space, turned off the engine, called Penrith.
‘We’re here,’ she told him. ‘How do you want to do this?’
He didn’t hesitate. ‘Stay where you are. We’ll come to you.’
Leaning back, she closed her eyes. She’d been ready for bed, but it didn’t look as though they were going to be able to rest any time soon.
Mulligan bounced in his seat. ‘What are we waiting for?’
‘An escort,’ Caelan told him.
‘What?’ He turned his head, watching as Penrith and Achebe appeared and walked towards them. ‘Why?’
‘Because no one trusts you. Haven’t you figured that out yet?’ Caelan took off her seat belt and opened her window. Penrith stood back, hands in pockets, while Achebe leant in.
‘Evening, all.’ He held out a pair of handcuffs. ‘Going to have to ask you to slip into something more uncomfortable, James.’
Mulligan glowered at him. ‘You’re not serious?’
Achebe straightened. ‘I’ve now been at work for almost eighteen hours. Do I look like a man who’s in the mood for having a laugh?’
Penrith gestured towards the building. ‘Shall we?’ he said.
Inside, the place was quiet. When they reached the custody suite, even the cells were silent. Achebe inclined his head.
‘No guests tonight? Everyone around here behaving themselves, for a change?’
The custody sergeant looked up from his desk. ‘Seems they are. Give it an hour. It won’t last.’
‘Never does.’ Achebe kept walking. ‘We’ll be in Interview Four.’
The sergeant waved a hand. ‘Enjoy.’
The room was bleak and cold. Mulligan sat at the table, Penrith opposite him, while Caelan, Ewan and Achebe remained standing. Mulligan cast his eyes around the room.
‘This is cosy, isn’t it?’ He looked up at the video camera mounted high in the corner. ‘Is that recording?’
No one replied. Mulligan was putting on a convincing show of nonchalance, but Caelan could see he was rattled. Being in the police station again, the slamming doors, the handcuffs, was getting to him. He licked his lips, his right leg jiggling under the table.
Penrith leant back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. ‘Mr Mulligan, I’m afraid we have bad news.’
Mulligan stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
Caelan wanted to ask the same question, but she kept quiet.
‘We sent officers to your sister Lucy’s home in Camden. They arrived forty minutes ago, but I’m afraid she wasn’t there.’ Penrith looked at the ceiling, clearly feeling uncomfortable, or pretending to. Mulligan shot Caelan a glare before focusing again on Penrith. She tried to catch Achebe’s eye, but he was staring resolutely at the far wall. She frowned. Was Penrith winding Mulligan up? She hoped so, because if not and Lucy really had vanished, they were all in the shit, Lucy most of all.
‘Well, she’s a student,’ Mulligan said. ‘She’s probably out getting pissed or shagging in a single bed somewhere.’
‘Let’s hope so.’ Penrith didn’t sound convinced.
‘What are you talking about?’ Mulligan demanded. ‘Where is she?’
Holding up a hand, Penrith looked sorrowful. ‘We did offer Miss Mulligan more… secure accommodation, but she declined, against our advice.’
Caelan expected Mulligan to start ranting, but instead he watched Penrith through half-closed eyes, his voice soft, dangerous. ‘I’ll ask you again. Where is she?’
Ignoring the question, Penrith pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. ‘When we spoke to her housemates, they told us Lucy had met a new boyfriend and hadn’t been spending much time at home. We found her handbag, Oyster card and phone on her desk.’
Mulligan swallowed. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning,’ Penrith said, ‘wherever she is, she didn’t take several items most people these days wouldn’t ever consider leaving behind.’
Caelan couldn’t read him, had no way of knowing whether he was being truthful or not. It was easy to underestimate Penrith, with his biscuit crumbs and his badly fitting clothes. How much of it was a front and how much was genuine, Caelan had never been able to say for certain, but she did know that he would never have had a sniff at his current rank if he hadn’t been able to outwit chancers like Mulligan without even trying.
Mulligan tipped his head to the side, imitated Penrith’s voice. ‘Indicating, without evidence to the contrary, that it’s safe to assume she didn’t leave the premises of her own free will?’ His own accent resurfaced. ‘That this prick in fact wheedled his way into her life so he could grab her once her guard was down?’
Penrith nodded. ‘I think we have to consider the possibility.’
Mulligan was halfway across the table, his cuffed hands reaching for Penrith’s throat, before Achebe reached him, grabbing his shoulders and hauling him back into his chair.
‘Behave yourself, or you’ll stay in the cells until you can,’ Achebe told him. Mulligan sat back, panting, his face red. Penrith hadn’t moved, watching Mulligan with disdain.
‘Start talking,’ he ordered. His voice and manner had transformed. Gone was the genial, slightly bumbling middle-aged police officer; in his place sat the Commander Ian Penrith Caelan knew and grudgingly respected.
Mulligan was sullen. ‘Not happening.’
‘Not even to save your sister?’ Penrith folded his arms. ‘We’ve no idea where to start looking for her. London’s a big place, James.’
‘How do I know she’s actually missing?’ Mulligan set his cuffed hands on the table. ‘How do I know you’re telling me the truth?’
Penrith sighed. ‘Tim?’
Achebe nodded, left the room. Caelan didn’t move, though she wanted to follow Achebe and demand to know what was going on.
No one spoke, Mulligan seething on his side of the table, Penrith happy to sit and fiddle with his phone for a while.
Achebe returned after a few minutes, a clear evidence bag in his hand. He held it up so they could all see what was inside. A wooden photograph frame, the picture inside obscured by a web of broken glass. Caelan exchanged a glance with Ewan. Broken glass was becoming something of a theme tonight.
‘Let me see that,’ Mulligan said. Achebe moved closer, held it out to him. Mulligan peered at the frame, and his shoulders slumped.
‘Is it—’ Caelan started to ask him.
‘Of course it is,’ Mulligan snapped. Penrith turned in his chair, blinking up at Caelan.
‘This is the original of the image that was posted through James’s door tonight,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you say someone had thrown a brick through Lucy’s window too?’
Penrith nodded. ‘Luckily she was in a lecture at the time.’
Mulligan sat up straight, eyes wide. ‘What the fuck?’
‘When did it happen?’ Caelan asked.
‘Last week,’ said Penrith.
‘Then they’ve known for a while where she lives, have probably been watching to work out when the room would be empty.’ Caelan was guessing, but she was following Penrith’s lead.
‘Why would they give a shit?’ said Mulligan.
‘Because they wanted to warn you, not hurt her. Not yet.’ Caelan took a few steps so she stood near Penrith, but slightly behind him, meaning Mulligan had to keep moving his head to focus on whoever was speaking. ‘You obviously didn’t listen.’
‘How could I?’ Mulligan tried to run a hand through his hair but was restricted by the handcuffs. ‘I didn’t know about it. She didn’t tell me.’
‘You’ve been dealing with some nasty people, James. It can’t be a huge surprise if some of them want you to keep your mouth closed now that we’ve caught you and they’re still out there enjoying their freedom.’ Penrith gave him a smile that was anything but friendly.
‘You don’t know who I’ve been dealing with,’ Mulligan told him.
‘But we’re hearing a few names.’ Caelan folded her arms. ‘Stefan Harris, Reuben Nash, his brother Nathan?’ She waited a beat. ‘Jolene Townsend?’
As she’d expected, Mulligan bridled, trying to point a finger at her. ‘She’s nothing to do with this.’
She smiled at him. ‘But the others are?’
He ignored her.
‘You arranged the murder of Jackson Hobbs, one of the city’s most established drug dealers,’ Caelan went on. ‘Surely you expected repercussions?’
‘I wasn’t involved in Hobbs’s death. No one can say otherwise.’ Mulligan sat back, cuffed hands in his lap.
‘Ryan Glennister could,’ said Caelan.
‘Ryan? You reckon?’ Mulligan chuckled. ‘You’d have to find him first. And then get him to remember what day it is.’
Penrith turned back to Mulligan. ‘As I said, your sister wasn’t in her room when our officers arrived tonight. The door was locked, but we managed to get inside.’ He held out his phone, and Mulligan peered at the screen. ‘As you can see, the place was a mess. No one in the house heard anything, but there was clearly a struggle.’
Mulligan’s mouth twisted. ‘Aye, Lucy would have fought,’ he said. ‘She never was one for being pushed around.’
‘Tell me who you were working with. If you want us to find your sister, you need to help us,’ Penrith told him.
‘What about Stefan Harris?’ Caelan said. Penrith glanced at her, as though irritated she had spoken again. Mulligan shook his head.
‘I owe Harris money, but he wouldn’t take it out on Lucy. He’d get his men to give me a battering, no more.’ He jabbed a thumb in Caelan’s direction, looking at Penrith. ‘Hasn’t told you she’s promised to pay him the fifteen grand he’s owed yet either, has she?’
Penrith didn’t blink. ‘Is it relevant to your sister’s disappearance?’
‘Don’t know, do we?’
‘Then it doesn’t matter.’
Mulligan’s knee was still bouncing. ‘Will do when Harris comes looking for it.’
‘I’m sure we’ll cope,’ Penrith said. He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘If you owe Stefan Harris money, you must have bought something from him.’
‘White,’ Mulligan said. Penrith nodded.
‘And what did you sell him?’
‘Nothing.’ Mulligan didn’t flinch, kept his eyes on Penrith’s face.
Penrith inclined his head. ‘You didn’t? Not even a few people?’
‘Not even once.’ Mulligan’s cockiness was back, and Caelan wondered why. They knew Mulligan had trafficked people – the two men who had worked for him had said so – but perhaps he was telling the truth about his dealings with Harris. When she remembered all the crimes they believed him guilty of, she asked herself again why she had agreed to work so closely beside him. He represented everything she despised.
‘You’re supposed to be helping us find out who’s trafficking people into the area.’ She wanted to grab him by the throat and squeeze. ‘Not being much help so far, are you?’
‘Come on, James, we know what you were selling. People who believed they were coming here to start a new life. Didn’t quite work out like that, did it?’ Penrith said.
‘Again, I know what you’ve heard. But those two fuckers who worked for me, they were the ones who found the girls and did the talking. They told them what an amazing life they were coming to. I don’t…’ Mulligan gulped. ‘You think I enjoyed it? I’m not a monster. I saw it as giving them an opportunity.’
Caelan couldn’t help it. ‘An opportunity? A fucking opportunity? Are you kidding me?’
Mulligan held up his cuffed hands. ‘All right, bad choice of words. It’s a terrible business, I know.’
‘Business?’ Caelan couldn’t look at him.
‘You want me to tell you the truth?’ Mulligan swallowed again. ‘I’m fucking haunted by it. There were only a couple of shipments…’ Again he raised his hands. ‘Sorry. But that’s what they called them. I played the big man, aye, of course I did. Didn’t want to lose face, but once I was involved, I realised I hated it. There was one girl, they brought her over to my house.’ He nodded at Caelan. ‘The one we’re staying in.’
‘I’ll sleep better now, thank you.’ She felt ill.
‘Hear me out. She was young, terrified, but already used to having sex with whoever she was ordered to. She went upstairs, undressed. Got into my bed, lay there waiting for me, passive as you like.’ He chewed on his bottom lip. ‘She looked… I didn’t… I couldn’t. She lives in Glasgow now. I found her a job with one of my cousins – my real cousins. She’s training to be a chef.’ He didn’t look at them, his face crimson.
‘Who brought her?’ Penrith asked.
Mulligan’s head snapped up. ‘What?’
‘You said “they” brought her to your house. Who did?’
‘Fuck’s sake. Does it matter?’
‘It does, because this is why we’re here. I’m sorry if we haven’t been clear. You’re giving us cooperation and information in exchange for a lighter prison sentence. We’ve established that, haven’t we?’ Penrith sniffed.
‘I don’t know who brought her, all right? The doorbell rang, and there she was. Mine for the night, because I’d done whoever owned her a favour.’
‘What favour?’ Penrith wanted to know.
‘We’d agreed a deal. I was going to be one of their suppliers, give them a discount. They needed a fair bit of gear to keep the women sweet.’ Mulligan looked at Caelan to see if she was going to react. He was disappointed.
‘Then you know who it was,’ was all she said. He made a noise of impatience.
‘No, I don’t. No names, no strings. I was given an address, some empty house. A squat. I knocked on the front door, and a hand reached out, gave me a packet of cash. Took the gear, and I was away home. We didn’t say a word to each other. Next thing I know, I get a text telling me there’s a present on the way. Mine to do what I wanted with, then sell on. Bit of a bonus from her owner, I suppose.’
‘Her owner?’ It was the first time Tim Achebe had spoken since he’d come back into the room, and his disgust was clear.
Mulligan turned to look at him. ‘That’s what I said.’
‘Wasn’t this “owner” a little pissed off when she disappeared off to an actual new life in Glasgow?’ Achebe folded his arms.
Mulligan shook his head. ‘Not when I paid the going rate. I replied to the text saying I’d had such a good time, I wanted to keep her. I was given a price, took the cash to the same squat.’
‘How much?’
Mulligan glanced at Achebe as he asked the question. ‘Twenty grand.’
‘The price of a life. Fuck.’ Achebe turned away, and Mulligan stared at the floor. Caelan wondered if his shame was real. She doubted it.
‘And who did own her?’ Penrith asked. Mulligan exhaled.
‘Like I said, these people don’t shake your hand and introduce themselves. No real names are used, not even nicknames.’
‘You expect us to believe you’ve no idea who you were working with, or for? Forgive me if I don’t,’ said Penrith.
‘It’s the truth. It’s like a… a secret society. You know? You indicate you’re willing to trade in…’ Mulligan rubbed a hand across his mouth, ‘well, in people. And customers make themselves known.’
‘Word got around? There must have been a middleman, someone who knew both of you.’ Penrith said.
‘Don’t know. Don’t think so. Friend of a friend of a friend, maybe. You can’t find out who told who, no way.’
Penrith shrugged. ‘We’ll try, if it’s all the same to you. I’ll need the address of that squat, for starters.’
Mulligan’s lips twitched. ‘Gladly.’
They all knew it would be a dead end.
Caelan said, ‘How did these mystery people contact you? Did they phone, come to your house?’
‘I had a burner phone, changed the number every few days. No doubt everyone else did too. I don’t know how the numbers were passed around, but they always were. Like I said, there are people pulling the strings, but I don’t know who they are. It was mainly calls, yeah. Short ones – the requirements, a location for the drop-off.’ He paused. ‘The price.’
She studied him. ‘You sure you weren’t selling second-hand cars?’
‘What?’
‘Requirements, drop-offs? We’re talking about people here.’ She took a breath, told herself to stay calm. Mulligan would love knowing he had got to her. Sure enough, he leered across the table.
‘Getting emotionally involved, Victoria? Not allowed in your job, is it?’
‘We need names, Mulligan.’ Penrith tried to bring them back to the point. ‘I’ll remind you, one of these customers of yours could have your sister.’
‘Told you, I’ve none to give you.’ Mulligan tapped his foot against the table leg. ‘Would if I could, but the whole point was, no one knew the identity of anyone else. Then if one of us got nicked, we wouldn’t be able to give them up to you lot.’
‘Then you’ve nothing to bargain with.’ Penrith began to rise from his seat. ‘We’re wasting our time. You can go back to prison, for good this time.’
‘What made her different?’ Caelan asked softly. Penrith hesitated, sat back down. Mulligan looked at her.
‘What?’ he said.
‘This girl you were lent for the night.’ She hated speaking so casually, but she wanted Mulligan to tell her the truth. ‘Why didn’t you have sex with her? I’m assuming you hadn’t been troubled by your conscience before? There must have been other girls.’
He tried a smile. ‘Would you believe me if I said no? Not like that.’
‘No, I wouldn’t.’ She paused, thinking about it. ‘Did she look like your sister?’
She watched his face and knew she was right when he blinked rapidly.
‘Not exactly, but there was a resemblance,’ he said. ‘And I… Well. It made me think. I put her on the train up to Glasgow Central the next morning.’
‘Not back to her home?’
He winked at her. ‘She didn’t want to go. Anyway, I didn’t want her telling tales.’
Caelan bit back a torrent of abuse. He wasn’t worth it.
‘And now your sister could be in the same situation,’ Penrith said. ‘Like I keep saying, time for you to start talking.’
Mulligan tried to rub his face. ‘Aye, all right. The people who brought the girls over from Albania – I never knew their names, never met them. My boys – the fuckers who’ve stitched me up and told you everything they know – they’re Albanian too. You’ve no doubt noticed.’ A hint of his usual grin. ‘They knew where to find the girls, and who could get them here. I didn’t ask questions.’
‘Not what your two former employees have told us,’ Penrith said.
‘Told you I did it all myself, did they? Aye, right, because I speak fluent Albanian. You better talk to them again, though it won’t do you any good. The people at the top of this game are careful. They don’t meet face to face; they use go-betweens to exchange money, and then the go-betweens turn up dead. They’re like shadows. It’s not a pleasant business.’ Mulligan shook his head, as though disappointed. As though he’d never been involved.
‘You led us to believe you could be useful to us. Now I’m not so sure.’ Penrith glanced at his phone, checking the time. ‘Your sister’s probably in a brothel somewhere by now, preparing for her first client.’
Mulligan studied him, unmoved. ‘That’s all you’ve got, isn’t it? That’s your ace, and you’re going to play it over and over again.’
Penrith gave him a cheerful smile. ‘That, and the fact that we can have you put away for the rest of your life. You can bleat on all you like about how you saved an Albanian innocent, but the fact is, we’re giving you a chance you don’t deserve.’
‘Tell me something,’ Mulligan said, his voice quiet, thoughtful. ‘Why would my sister be snatched now?’
‘What do you mean?’ Penrith shifted in his chair.
‘I’m just back on the streets after a stay in hospital, and questioning. If I was going to spill my guts to you, wouldn’t I have done it while I was in custody? While I was trying to save my arse?’
Penrith leant closer. ‘Maybe you did. Maybe that’s why you were released.’ He gave another grim smile. ‘Maybe people are already wondering what you told us while we had you under lock and key.’
Mulligan leapt forward again, clawing for Penrith. ‘You fucker, what have you been telling people? If my sister’s been snatched because of you lot, if she’s hurt—’
‘It’ll be your fault.’ Penrith reached into his pocket, pulled out and held up a mobile. ‘Yours, I think?’ He left it on the table in front of Mulligan as he pushed back his chair, stood this time. ‘Use it wisely. I know Caelan will be keeping an eye on you. I want you to introduce her and Ewan to Reuben and Nathan Nash, and any other lowlifes you can think of. Reuben Nash owns a nightclub, doesn’t he?’
Mulligan stared. ‘If you can call it that. It’s a shitehole. How do you know about it?’
Penrith chuckled. ‘We have intel people, you know. Anyway, you’re not the only one who makes secret phone calls. Caelan called me earlier, reported in on your evening at Stand. Sounded like fun. We know who you spoke to once you got home, by the way. Quite touching, really.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘You tried to call your sister, but only got her voicemail. Not surprising at that time of night, but it makes me wonder why you did it.’
‘Do I need a reason? I’d just got out of prison. I wanted to say hello.’
Amazed, Caelan realised Mulligan was blushing. He could talk about his crimes with barely a blink, but catch him showing concern for his sister and he was embarrassed. Again she was reminded that she had to remember who he was, what he’d done.
‘Did you want to warn Lucy?’ Penrith rocked back on his heels. ‘Perhaps someone had used her as a threat before? Were you worried?’
Mulligan snorted. ‘What do you think? Yeah, I was worried. She’s a young woman, and she’s clever, but she’s vulnerable because she doesn’t know… well, about my life. My lifestyle. I wanted to tell her to watch her back.’
Caelan stepped towards him, suddenly suspicious. ‘Did you tell her you were working with us, with the police?’
‘I—’
‘Did you?’
He shook his head. ‘Course I didn’t. I stuck to the story. Released without charge. You think I’m crazy? May as well have shot her in the head myself. Working with the police is even worse than grassing someone up to them.’ He licked his lips again. ‘Anyway, can’t you listen to the message, hear what I said? I don’t remember the exact words, but there was nothing about you lot.’
Slowly Caelan moved away. For once, she believed him. He wouldn’t do anything to put himself at risk.
Penrith was halfway through the door. ‘We’ll speak again over the next few days. I’ll expect you to have introduced my officers to everyone in your address book by then. Last chance to give us information we can use, Mulligan, or at least point us in the right direction. If you don’t, the deal’s off. We’ll start sniffing around your friends, see if we can find your sister. Goodnight, all.’
The door banged behind him and Mulligan gazed at Caelan and Achebe, head on one side. ‘Goodnight? Is he taking the piss?’
‘Probably,’ Achebe told him.