Just over three months ago, over a hot cup of Tanzanian peaberry coffee, Louisa Paige told me the esteemed Alexander ‘Sandy’ Paige was a criminal. She sat in my front room and explained that she believed her husband was involved in the distribution of narcotics. She further understood he may have hired men to commit acts of violence in order to make his business run smoothly. She harboured absolutely no moral qualms about any of this.
‘If people want to do drugs – let ’em!’ she’d exclaimed.
But Louisa had heard disturbing rumours that Sandy was also involved in child trafficking. She said she didn’t believe the rumours but wanted her mind to be free from any suspicions.
‘So she hired you,’ Simmonds interrupts, ‘to investigate her own husband?’
I nod. Looking back, when Louisa initially reached out to me, I believe she was secretly certain that Sandy Paige was involved in trafficking. But in the period that followed, she convinced herself it couldn’t possibly be true of the person she loved, to the point that she ultimately saw me as the enemy for confronting him about his crimes.
‘But why on earth did you believe her in the first place? How could you accept Paige is a criminal? He’s so damned respectable.’
‘Respectability is very much an artificial façade. You know that. It didn’t seem such a stretch to believe Paige’s façade was concealing something terrible.’
‘And I thought I was cynical.’ He sniffs. ‘What have you got against respectability?’
‘Nothing. I may even try it some day.’
‘I wouldn’t bother. It’s overrated.’
After the sarcastic humour, his wryness is the second time he’s surprised me today.
‘Carry on!’ he urges.
‘No.’
‘What?’
‘Before I do, I want information from you. What the hell are you doing here? How did you know I was involved in this whole thing? I get shot and when I wake up, you’re at my bedside. I thought I’d died and gone straight to hell. But how does that happen? Why were you keeping tabs on me?’
‘You’re a person of interest to several departments who all like to keep an eye on you, Novak. Especially after the Diana business. When you were seen to be poking around in Paige’s affairs and child trafficking began coming up in the reports, well, bells started ringing. A whole bally peal of them.’
‘I can imagine. That still doesn’t explain your presence, though. The powers that be see I’m taking an interest in Sandy Paige. Why wasn’t I just forcibly warned off? Tell me what happened.’
‘No.’
‘What?’
‘We’re sharing information, remember. Go on with your story.’
That seems fair enough, but I still pull a face like a child who’s been told to eat his greens. ‘Well, I accepted the case. Louisa thought she’d given me limited access to her husband’s accounts, but she actually opened the door wide enough for me to see his kingdom. It wasn’t a pretty sight.’
Simmonds slowly nods. ‘I can imagine.’
‘Long story short – I compiled a dossier on him.’
‘Extensive?’
‘It’s got enough facts and figures to make even the most expensive defence barrister throw down their wig in despair.’
‘You amassed conclusive evidence that Paige was implicated in child trafficking?’
‘More than implicated. He was up to his Gordonstoun old school tie in it.’
‘Give me details.’
‘Kidnapping or acquiring the kids or babies is the easy bit.’
Simmonds murmurs, ‘Usually from a country like Vietnam or Romania or Albania?’
‘That’s right,’ I tell him. ‘Getting them to the UK or US or wherever the order has been placed . . . That’s also pretty simple if you know the right routes. The tricky bit is the documentation. If the client wants to adopt the child legally, or pretend he or she was their biological offspring . . . that all takes documentation and fixing. That’s where our Mr Paige came in. Sure, he was involved in the set-up, acquisition and transportation, but his real genius was in making those arrangements.’
To his credit, Simmonds looks aghast. ‘I imagine he exploited all his contacts and know-how and nobody suspected a thing when good old Sandy requested a favour. Christ! So, you compiled the dossier. I’ll need that, by the way. What happened next?’
I shake my head. ‘Your turn. Why wasn’t I forcibly warned off the Paige case? Who called off the dogs?’
It’s obvious Simmonds is considering obfuscation, but after a moment, he takes a deep breath and replies, ‘Me. Stupidly.’
‘What?’
‘My new boss, the replacement for Miss Winters, told me you were investigating Paige and suggested that you were to be encouraged to abandon your inquiries.’
‘But?’
‘But I heard the case involved child trafficking. I said if something as appalling as that was going on . . .’ Another hesitation. ‘I couldn’t think of a better chap to investigate and bring down the bastards at the head of the ring.’
‘Technically speaking, you can’t be at the head of a ring.’
‘I also told my boss you were an eternal reprobate. An understatement, although—’
I interrupt him. ‘Seriously? You stuck up for me?’
‘No! God, no! I stuck up for the kids you were trying to help.’
It amounts to the same thing and I’m both touched and taken aback.
‘Well, I have to say . . .’
Fortunately, a nurse breezes into the room, so we’re both spared the embarrassment of me having to express gratitude.
She says, ‘Mr Novak?’ Her accent is Eastern European.
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’ She looks into my eyes like she’s caught me stealing the cutlery. ‘You must drink this.’
I’d guess she’s in her thirties. She’s tall and slim with long dark hair that’s been lashed into a ponytail.
I tell her, ‘There must be some mistake. I ordered cocktails for two.’
Her dark eyes show no sign of amusement. ‘There’s been no mistake.’
I take the glass of clear liquid that she hands me. ‘Glad to hear it . . .’ I look for her name badge, but she isn’t wearing one.
The nurse turns and walks away. I raise the glass to my lips. She reaches the door, turns to me and says, ‘Goodbye, Mr Novak.’