The media didn’t get hold of the story until late Monday afternoon, when the Minister for Immigration rose in the House to announce, no doubt with some relief, since he’d been under attack for months on the government’s immigration policy, that more than forty people believed to be involved in smuggling women and children into the country for illicit purposes had been arrested. Raids on their homes and business premises, he said, had produced evidence of their involvement with a vast network in Eastern Europe as well as several other countries, and it was anticipated that more arrests would be made in the coming days. He went on to say his ministry was working closely with Europol and other agencies and NGOs throughout those countries, where ‘similar raids are taking place even as I am speaking to you now’.
The minister spoke for some twelve minutes on the subject, ending with the hope that this would clearly demonstrate his government’s grave concern and commitment to stopping the flow of illegal immigrants into the United Kingdom.
It wasn’t often that Paget had a good word to say about Westminster or for the role politics played when it came to common-sense policing, but in this case he was grateful for anything that would shift the spotlight to London.
Despite persistent questions from the media, no details were given regarding the specific number of illegal entrants who were now in protective custody, which led to some creative speculation, especially in the tabloids. Nothing was said about the farm, nor was there so much as a mention that anyone had died. Clearly, Trowbridge and his masters were controlling the information being released, not only to the media, but probably to the minister himself.
The RangerContinental that had brought the women up from the south, had been followed as far as Wrexham, where the driver had stopped to spend the night, and he was arrested Sunday morning when he was about to leave. Roper and his wife were arrested when they returned to the farm on Sunday morning after spending the night in a hotel in Ludlow. When asked how he had managed to leave the farm unobserved, Roper told them that the switch had been made Saturday afternoon, when Kellerman had arrived dressed as a workman in a Crawley’s van.
‘Paranoid, he was,’ he said contemptuously. ‘Scared to death that someone might be watching. Had me switch clothes with him so it was me who drove the van away. He even had the wife creep out of the house and into the van behind a sheet of plywood we carried out between us. I mean there’s times we don’t see anybody out there for days, so who’d be watching us?’
Clearly, the penny hadn’t yet dropped for Roper.
‘Don’t know anything about torture and killings,’ he’d protested. ‘What they did in that barn was nothing to do with me after I rented it out. All this bloke told me was that they wanted it for meetings every now and again, and I wasn’t to go near the place. The money was good, so I did what he wanted.’
Mark Newman’s body was found and lifted from a shallow grave behind the barn. Starkie did the autopsy and recorded death by strangulation after being tortured.
The funeral was held the following week in the village church in Whitcott Lacey. Newman’s parents were contacted, but only his mother made the journey from Plymouth to identify the body of her son and attend the funeral. She was a small, pale, wisp of a woman, who seemed to be incapable of making a decision about anything, and it was Emma Baker who finally took charge of the funeral arrangements.
‘Mark never attended church while he was staying with us,’ she told Paget, ‘but I think he would have liked a Christian burial.’
Mark’s father did not attend.
‘The business, you know,’ Mrs Newman said vaguely when Paget asked.
Tom Foxworthy was there, as was Sylvia Tyler, together with a handful of villagers for whom Newman had worked at one time or another, but it was a small gathering.
Paget and Tregalles remained in the background during the short service, and were about to slip away when Emma stopped them as they left the church.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she said, ‘and thank you for taking me seriously when I first reported Mark missing. Such a waste of a young life, but at least, as Uncle Bob explained, it was your search for Mark that set off the investigation into whatever it was that was going on at the farm, so in a way he didn’t die for nothing.’ She frowned as she looked off into the distance. ‘He wouldn’t tell me exactly what was going on there,’ she said slowly. ‘He said something rather vague about an ongoing investigation, which I took to mean he wasn’t going to tell me anything more.’ She shifted her gaze to Paget. ‘I don’t suppose you . . .?’
He smiled sadly and shook his head. ‘I wish I could,’ he said gently, ‘but like your uncle, I’m not at liberty to discuss it. Sorry, Emma.’
Standing there in the churchyard in the warm sunlight, Emma’s voice hardened as she said, ‘I’m glad the man who did it is dead. I don’t think I could have borne seeing someone like that weasel his way through the courts and probably get off with just a few years behind bars.’
So that was now the official version, Paget thought sadly. And yet, watching Emma’s face, perhaps it was for the best after all.
Later that night, with the day’s events still on his mind, he and Grace talked about it at length, and it was still on his mind when they went to bed.
‘I’m supposed to ignore the fact that people were killed out there at the farm,’ he said as they got into bed. ‘Murdered in cold blood, and whether the killing was justified or not, it’s not up to us to decide. And I’m supposed to ignore the fact that evidence was deliberately destroyed.
‘No one will be charged with the killings. Bardici will never stand trial for those murders; in fact he may not even do any time for trafficking or anything else if he cooperates and tells them everything he knows about the network. And that sort of trade-off really concerns me.’
‘But they can’t just let him go,’ said Grace.
‘Oh, he’ll probably be charged with something and do some time just to make it look good, but I’ll lay odds it won’t amount to much. I’m sure it’s all arranged. I’ve tried to talk to Ben about it, but it’s a done deal and he won’t even take my calls.’
‘On the other hand,’ said Grace gently, ‘you told me yourself that the chances of getting a conviction against Bardici are almost nil. You have no witnesses who are prepared to testify, no evidence connecting him to the murders, except, perhaps for the word of Trowbridge’s undercover man, and he’s not likely to put his hand up, is he? I hate to say this, love, but I don’t think the CPS would even look at it, let alone prosecute.’
‘Oh, I know you’re right,’ he conceded. ‘In fact that’s exactly what Alcott said, but it still rankles. Once you start making deals with the likes of Bardici, where does it stop?’ He sighed heavily as he turned out the light and slid down in bed.
‘I know how frustrated you must be, Neil,’ Grace said softly, ‘but you can’t expect to win every time.’
‘Not with people like Trowbridge and Bell about,’ he muttered as he turned to face her. ‘And I’d still like to?’
‘Enough!’ Grace snaked an arm around him and pulled him to her. ‘It’s over, so let it go and get some sleep! Don’t forget you said you wanted to be in court for the case against Bernie Green first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘Oh, God! I’d forgotten about that,’ he said. He was about to roll over, but the pressure of her body against his own stopped him. ‘But if you think I can go off to sleep while you are doing things like that to me,’ he said, ‘you’ve got another think coming, Grace Lovett.’
‘Thank God for that,’ Grace murmured softly, nestling her head against his chest. ‘Took you so long to get around to it, I was beginning to think you’d gone off me.’
There were very few people in court. Bernie’s hair was neatly combed, and he was dressed in his best suit, white shirt and tie – not that it would have any influence on the outcome, but there was always the faint hope that it might. Paget looked around for Bernie’s wife, and almost failed to recognize the smartly dressed woman sitting by herself until she turned her head his way.
‘Not a bad looking bird when she’s all dressed up, is she?’ Tregalles murmured. ‘Last time I saw Shirley Green, she had curlers in her hair and she looked a good ten years older than she does now. Amazing what a bit of paint, some high heels and a good bra will do for a woman.’
There were no surprises. Guilty as charged. Six months, which meant he’d be out in four. Bernie and his wife were allowed to have a few brief words before he was led away, but as Shirley turned to leave, she caught sight of Paget, and a slow smile crossed her face as she changed course and came toward him.
She probably wanted to have a go at him for putting her husband away, thought Paget. It had happened to him a number of times during his career, and yet there was something decidedly odd about the way the woman was looking at him. One eyebrow was slightly raised as if she were trying to convey some sort of message to him as she approached.
‘I reckon she fancies you,’ Tregalles said under his breath, but loud enough for Paget to hear. ‘Either that or she’s got herself a toy boy while her old man’s away, and she’s feeling grateful. I’d watch myself if I were you, boss.’
The two men started to move toward the door, but Shirley Green moved swiftly to intercept them before they reached it. Both men watched her closely as she approached. Relatives and even friends had been known to throw acid in the faces of the police when a verdict went against someone close to them, but Shirley’s hands were empty.
She moved closer, glancing around as if to make absolutely sure that no one else was within earshot before she spoke, and when she did it was to Tregalles.
‘I hope you don’t mind, Sergeant,’ she said apologetically, ‘but I’d like a word with Mr Paget. It’s nothing personal against you,’ she added hastily, ‘it’s just . . . it’s just a bit private, if you don’t mind?’
Tregalles remained where he was until Paget nodded and said, ‘It’s all right, Sergeant. I don’t think Mrs Green intends to harm me.’
Tregalles gave a grudging nod and moved away.
The woman watched him go, but remained silent until she was satisfied that Tregalles was out of earshot. And when she did speak, it was in a voice so low that Paget had to lean closer to hear what she was saying.
‘I know we’ve had our differences in the past,’ she said, ‘but fair’s fair, and I promised myself I’d thank you for what you did if I ever got the chance. And believe me, Mr Paget, you can trust me to keep a secret. I’ll never breathe a word to anyone else, and I’ll swear to that. You’ll never know how happy it made me when I heard. I can still hardly believe it.’
‘You’re happy that Bernie’s been convicted?’
The woman stared at him blankly for a second, then grinned in a conspiratorial way as she leaned closer. ‘For a minute there I thought you were serious,’ she said with a chuckle, ‘but you’re having me on, aren’t you? No, of course I didn’t mean Bernie. I meant about Gerry. That’s why I got the inspector to go away, because Gerry said it was only the top ones who knew. I know Gerry said I wasn’t to say anything, but it’s not as if you don’t know, is it? And Gerry says he’s doing all right where he is, fixed up with a job and all. I’m sure he’s learned his lesson this time, so you won’t be having any more trouble with him. Bernie doesn’t know, and I shan’t tell him, and I wouldn’t want him to know I’d talked to you. But like I said, I thought it was only fair to say thanks and tell you what a relief it was to find out that my brother is alive and well.’