Beautiful Death (33 page)

‘Serendipity?’

‘I don’t know that word but it sounds like it would be right. He found me sitting with Zeus in the car because no taxis were around that night and Zeus had agreed to pick three of us girls up. If we’d left just moments earlier, or if there had been taxis, or if Moshe didn’t have some pressing business, they would never have met. Anyway they did. Moshe was very upset and I remember being surprised because Zeus actually got out and talked to him.’

‘Did you hear what they said?’

‘No, I felt it was rude to listen, so I started talking with the other girls. At first I thought Zeus might hit him or something because Moshe was angry, you know? But it ended with them shaking hands. When Zeus got back in and I asked him if things were okay, he said they’d settled it like gentlemen and were
meeting for a salt beef sandwich at Milo’s sometime. I thought he was making a joke. I have no idea. Perhaps they did meet again.’

‘What could they have in common?’

He could almost see her shrug. ‘Nothing, I suppose, other than me. One’s a businessman, the other is a doctor … well, I think he is.’

‘Mmm, yes, a doctor who needs people to practise on. Perhaps your Mr Gluck is not so much a businessman as an entrepreneur — someone who finds these people for the surgeon to practise on.’

Claudia remained silent, presumably shocked.

‘Claudia, one final question. Is Zeus Chinese?’

She made a small scoffing sound. ‘Whatever gave you that impression?’

Jack ground his teeth. ‘Describe him.’

‘Tall, strong, very — I don’t know the word — I think it’s distinguished; he probably had golden hair as a young man. Now there are silvery white streaks, but he’s still extremely handsome. He knows it, but then I’ve already told you he’s arrogant. He dresses extremely smartly — I saw very expensive suits in his dressing room. He speaks with a cultured voice, but accented.’

‘Accented?’

‘I don’t know what it is. English but with a sort of strange shortened sound.’

‘Okay, we have his address, I should have a name any moment. Claudia, I’m going to ask Sarah to organise some police protection for you and your daughter … just in case.’

‘All right. I didn’t think Britain would care if another hooker got taken off the streets.’

‘We care more than you think and it seems Sarah’s determined to help you. I’m going to hand
you back to her, okay? But listen, thank you. I know what you’ve done for us this evening goes fully against your creed, but it’s going to make a difference.’

‘You won’t forget dinner, will you?’

Jack sighed softly. ‘When this is done I give you my word I’ll find you and treat you to dinner.’

‘I’m holding you to that, DCI Hawksworth. Goodbye.’

He liked her smoky voice and intended to keep his promise. He handed the phone to Sarah. ‘All yours. Do we have a name?’

‘Yes, sir. A Dr Charles Maartens. Sir, here’s —’

‘I know the name from our meeting discussions with Chan at the hospital. What nationality is he?’

‘Zimbabwean, sir. Sir, please —’

‘Right. Where’s Benson?’

‘It’s what I’m trying to tell you. He ran off, sir, and asked me to get you to call him straight away, but not to use this phone. Here, this is yours and Kate’s got a line open on it.’

Kate had watched Maartens painstakingly clean the body of the young prostitute. The smell of surgical spirit was powerful and made her feel dizzy. The girl was hastily being pulled into a pale grey tracksuit. It was new; Kate could see the labels were still on the clothes and they had been taken out of sealed plastic bags with gloved hands. Maartens was certainly taking no chances and that would explain why forensics had been unable to give them much information on the victims already found.

Maartens’s mobile rang. ‘Yes?’ he said, brisk and businesslike as he zipped up the girl’s new hoodie.

Kate tried to hear what was being said by the
tinny little voice, barely escaping from the phone, but it was impossible. Her thoughts were fractured when she most needed to focus. What could she do? She looked around helplessly; her feet and wrists were bound and her hands were behind her so she was effectively useless in terms of physical movement. She scratched her nails into the cloth of her chair just in case some of the fibres could be identified later. It was terrifying to think like this, but if she was going to die, she was going to make certain this arsehole was nailed. If she could, she told herself, she would get some of his DNA on her somehow.

Maartens closed his phone and moved toward her. ‘Adieu, my Kate. It’s time for you to leave. You will get dressed in your own car. Up please.’ He cut the ties binding her to the chair and hauled her awkwardly to her feet. ‘I’m sorry it’s turned out this way. I would have liked to get to know you better, but it can’t be helped.’ He opened the door and Kate saw the headlights of two cars outside, dazzling her momentarily and diverting her crazy thoughts of asking Maartens for a farewell kiss in the mad hope he’d leave his DNA on her. The headlights were suddenly turned off, and she could see one of the cars was her own black Fiat Punto.

The man who emerged from it was wearing a balaclava. ‘Nice little car,’ he said into her ear, but there was nothing distinctive about his clothing, build or voice that she could latch onto, not that it hadn’t struck Kate that she might never be in a position to turn him in. Her police training had kicked in and she couldn’t help herself, committing every detail she could to memory. She could see the dim lights of the clinic in the distance, but it was too
far away and it was still windy. She had no chance of alerting anyone.

‘You know what to do,’ Maartens said to the newcomer. ‘Don’t stuff up.’ He looked up to the night sky. ‘Whatever was brewing has blown through. You should be fine.’

Kate was bundled into the back of her Punto.

‘Get dressed,’ Maartens said, throwing a sealed plastic bag at her.

‘Fuck you!’ she snapped, enjoying the moment of defiance, no matter how pointless it might prove to be.

Maartens produced a scalpel. ‘I can cut off your gown and leave you naked with this man. Is that how you’d prefer to be found? Sent to the morgue bruised and in your birthday suit?’

Kate felt the betrayal of tears stinging at her eyes. She banished them. ‘How am I supposed to dress myself when I’m tied up?’

‘We’re going to untie you, obviously, but try anything, Kate, and I’m going to let these guys sort you out, okay? I’m trying to handle this politely … like a gentleman.’

‘Politely?’ If she’d had any moisture in her mouth she would have spat at him.

‘Yes, good manners to the last, you could say,’ he smirked. ‘Now the keys are out of the car and the doors will be locked so you’re going nowhere. Just get your clothes on and be quiet.’

Her bindings were cut and as promised she was locked into the car. Maartens stepped back to give her a modicum of privacy and through the windscreen she watched them talking, absently looking back at her pulling off the gown. She couldn’t care any longer. All she was after was one
thing. Her mobile. Was it still in the pocket halfway down the leg of her cargo pants? Impossible luck! … it was there. She nearly cried out as she felt its hard reassurance as she dug into the plastic bag. He’d said he’d had her clothes vacuumed so whoever did that should have known about the phone — but maybe they hadn’t wanted to touch it, or more likely didn’t think she’d have the chance to use it. Perhaps it hadn’t been found? It was a ridiculously lightweight thing her sister had brought back from her holiday in Bangkok. Perhaps Maartens had momentarily forgotten its presence. Whatever the reason, he wasn’t infallible! Was this his great error? She was going to make his arrogant arse pay for the oversight.

It was not an easy task making it look as though she was nervously dressing while her fingers were moving rapidly over the keys, dialling Jack’s number. They couldn’t see her movement below the car’s headrests and so long as she didn’t pull the phone out of the pocket they may never guess.
Hurry Kate
! Using only touch she tapped the number and hit send. Then as she sat forward to pull her sweater over her head she cast a prayer to whatever out there in the cosmos was listening to calm this storm completely and let her call get through. Jack could trace her via the mobile, now that the line was open.

‘Find me, Jack,’ she whispered as she did up the button fly on the cargo pants. Then she yelled to Maartens, ‘I’m freezing in here,’ to signal she was done.

He nudged the bloke standing next to him and the fellow started to move toward the Fiat. Behind him, from what she could make out, the other car would be final transport for the poor dead Eastern European girl, currently being carried out and
placed in the boot. Where she was headed to was anyone’s guess.

‘Get out,’ the man in the balaclava ordered, banging on the window.

‘Where am I going?’ Kate asked.

He simply laughed and yanked her out.

‘I told you he wouldn’t be as polite,’ Maartens, who had sidled up beside her, murmured.

She was manhandled around the car and stuffed into the boot. It was a hatchback so it wasn’t too claustrophobic, but Maartens grabbed her hands and cruelly cuffed her wrists.

‘There,’ he said smugly, handing the driver the keys to the cuffs. ‘Did you bring those stick-on blackouts for the window? Can’t have her staring out and begging for help.’

‘Yes,’ the sidekick answered. ‘I’ll get them on now.’

‘Farewell, Kate,’ Maartens said. ‘Don’t be too forlorn. I’ve ordered a quick and painless death for you. Give him no trouble and he won’t hurt you — that’s a promise, okay?’ He smiled, and slammed the boot down. Kate tried to hold her fear at bay and position herself so that she might see out of the side window and perhaps get some idea of where she was being taken.

26.

Geoff Benson had commandeered a SOCO car and was flying —blue light flashing, siren off — towards Hertford.

He’d finished speaking with Superintendent Sharpe, who’d asked him to take temporary control of the case as Jack would be heading to Athens shortly. Geoff had tried to argue against Jack being taken off Panther, but he knew his protest would be in vain before he even took his first breath. He knew police protocol as well as the next officer and there was no alternative; Sharpe could not bend the rules on this … not even for the golden boy.

He had finished the awkward conversation with an agreement to meet Sharpe the next morning, and turned to speak to Jack. His friend was still talking on Sarah’s phone and then Jack’s phone had rung again in Geoff‘s hand. He’d fully expected it to be the superintendent again, but when he’d glanced at the screen, he’d felt a surge of hope and excitement. The screen said
Kate Carter
.

‘Hello?’ he had yelled, plugging the sound of the wind with a finger in his ear and running toward the eaves of the house. He hadn’t been able to hear anything. ‘Hello? Kate?’ He was shouting now. He ran inside the house and screamed at everyone to shut up.

The downstairs of the house had fallen momentarily silent. He’d tried again. ‘Kate?’ All he’d been able to hear were muffled sounds, possibly a voice — but nothing he could make out. He’d stared at the phone. The line was definitely open and connected.

He’d run back out to Sarah, told her what had happened and flung her Jack’s mobile with Kate’s phone still connected. He was moving blindly on instinct but he realised time was of the essence. Jack would catch up quickly but someone had to get moving towards her. Every second might count towards saving her life. He got onto Central Control at Hendon on the car phone and knew his urgent call might mean the difference between life and death.

To his relief he’d been put straight through to a senior officer on the night shift. ‘Tony, I need a location on a mobile of one of our team please. The line’s open and connected to DCI Hawksworth’s mobile.’ He gave both phone numbers.

‘Okay, sir,’ Tony said, ‘hold the line. I’ll need to contact British Telecom.’

‘Thanks,’ Geoff said, ‘but please hurry.’

He could hear Tony talking to an operator at BT, giving Kate’s number.

The few moments felt like hours, but he sat forward as he heard Tony finally repeating the grid references that BT had located.

Tony’s voice crackled back on the car radio. ‘Okay, sir, I’ve punched those grid points into the GPS mapping system and the call is coming from Hertford. We can only pinpoint an area of 500 square metres but from what I can see there is only one property within those boundaries, sir.’

Geoff had heard enough from Jack’s discussions with his team at Kate’s house to take an educated guess. ‘The Elysium Clinic complex?’

‘Yes, sir, a clinic,’ Tony confirmed.

‘Right,’ Geoff said. ‘Thanks, Tony. We may need to keep you on this, mate. I can’t trust that her position will remain static.’

‘That’s fine, sir. I understand this is for Panther and that DI Carter’s safety is threatened. I’ll stay on the GPS and call you back if anything changes.’

‘Good man, thank you.’ Geoff stepped harder on the accelerator, roaring towards the motorway, pleased that the night roads were blessedly free of traffic snarls. He kept his own phone beside him. Any second it would ring. And it would be Jack.

The radio signalled an incoming message and he snatched at the receiver.

‘Central Command again, sir,’ said Tony. ‘The signal’s just changed.’

Jack stared at the phone that Sarah had given him. He clamped it against his ear, but could hear nothing outside or inside the house. Following in Geoff‘s footsteps, he heard only muffled noises, more like static than anything.

He yelled back at his young detective. ‘Sarah, get everyone on Panther moving. I’ll phone you from the car. You’re our hub now. Work from here.’

He found the most senior SOCO man. ‘I need a car.’

‘Your mate’s already grabbed one.’

Angela was standing nearby. ‘I’ll drive you, sir,’ she said, ‘I’m the only one of our team without a task.’

Jack nodded. ‘Let’s go.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘I’m taking that one,’ he said over his shoulder to the SOCO guy as he pointed to the squad car.

‘Keys are in it. A PC just dropped off a fingerprinter.’ He waved a hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll explain to him and his boss if necessary. Just go.’

‘Hope you can drive like the wind, Angela?’

‘I can outrace the wind, sir. Er, not that I ever speed off duty, sir!’

‘Call it in, then. I have to find out exactly where we’re headed but track north for now.’

She nodded. ‘Lights or siren?’

‘Lights will do.’ Jack strapped himself in and rang Geoff. ‘Where is she? Tell me you know.’

‘Are you on the move?’

‘Yes. Where am I going?’

‘She was at Hertford but Central Control’s just let me know she’s now headed south. Pray it’s not a false trail.’

‘Where are you?’

‘On the A10, just passing Cheshunt. I was going toward Hoddeston to get to Hertford but she’s going in the opposite direction.’

‘Geoff, someone has to get to the clinic. Maartens never does the dirty work himself. I’ll bet my last penny that he’s preparing to flee. He won’t be with Kate, I know it in my gut.’

‘Okay, what do you want me to do — even though technically I’m in charge right now?’

Jack winced. He knew his friend didn’t mean that to sound as it did. Geoff was trying to let him know Sharpe’s decision and time didn’t permit him to do it kindly. ‘Get the tracing call put through to this car.’ He gave the details. ‘I need my mobile open for Kate. I’ve already had the local Hertford police mobilised over to the Elysium Clinic and if you handle that part of it I’ll go after Kate. Moshe Gluck should be arrested, along with Schlimey Katz and the police translator Sarju. Sarah’s a terrier; she’ll organise whatever you need to be done. Just give her instructions. I’ll text you Cam Brodie’s mobile number — he can set the arrests in motion immediately.’

‘Jack, be careful.’

‘Once I know where she’s going, I’ll organise some back-up.’

‘Good luck. I’m sorry about Athens and what it means.’

‘Don’t be. I’m glad Sharpe gave Panther to you. Kate’s all I can worry about right now.’

Kate tried hard to concentrate on where she was headed and for a while almost believed she was holding an image in her mind of the roads her Fiat was travelling. Ultimately, though, she lost focus and more pressing thoughts — of her family, her friends — took control and she gave herself over to her grief.

She wept silently in the Punto’s boot for the way her life had gone. She’d had a chance at happiness, but blew it — or so friends and fans of Dan had assured her. Kate had never seen it that way. She’d certainly loved Dan, but over their time together she’d realised it was a love based in friendship, as
opposed to a sexually charged or even can’t-live–without–you passion. The only real romantic love she’d ever felt was for Jack Hawksworth and that was dangerous, ill-fated and unrequited.

Kate knew that although she could control those feelings for Jack now, she couldn’t necessarily banish them. Jack remained the man she would choose if a genie exploded from one of the many wine bottles she finished alone to grant her three wishes; she’d need only one of them. But she was still rational enough to understand that Jack would not choose her. A bond definitely existed between them — she felt it and knew he did, but also knew he railed against it. His mind was stronger than his heart. He had once sighed and murmured, ‘In another life’ to her, suggesting that in different circumstances they might have stood a chance.

Now she realised she’d wasted the last two years licking the wounds from the last time she’d worked with him. Jack clearly remained determined not to involve himself romantically with her. But the other half of the Beauty and the Beast pair — Geoff Benson — had surprised her. She’d seen something in him this past week that had made her believe there were other men she could get close to. It wasn’t ideal that Geoff was Jack’s closest friend, or that he was in the force, but life was rarely neat. Plus, she’d made a pact with herself to give other men a chance; she was trying hard to live up to that.

A dip in the road bumped Kate’s head painfully against the door and dragged her out of her thoughts. She felt no guilt over her moments of indulgence; escape into her mind was surely all she had now. She had no idea where they were and
guessed they’d been driving for about an hour now. She prayed her phone was still open and connected to Jack and that he was desperately tracing her, hurtling fast in her direction.

Find me, Jack, and I promise to let you go
.

Tony’s disconnected voice from Central Command briefed them. ‘Hendon Control Command to Gold Delta vehicle DCI Hawksworth. The suspect vehicle has changed direction and the signal is now coming from the M11 motorway heading B direction. Repeat, M11 heading B direction.’

‘Yes, M11 motorway, heading south,’ Jack confirmed.

Tony continued. ‘The vehicle should emerge to the east of the London area, provided it doesn’t turn left towards Essex. The next major mast area for the signal is Harlow, but if they remain on the motorway toward Epping and Theydon Bois we can track them on motorway CCTV.’

‘Thanks, Hendon. Call us with any change,’ Jack said, and turned to his driver. ‘Angela, you’ve got to get off here and take the A414 toward Harlow and the M11.’

‘Yes, sir. I was just wondering, sir,’ she tentatively continued, ‘will we make it in time?’

Jack felt ill. Angela had voiced the dread Jack had felt since first realising that Kate had opened up the line. It meant she was truly in trouble. He’d kept hoping all the while they’d been making arrangements from her garden that by some miracle this was a terrible mistake and that she’d come rampaging back into her house to tear a few strips off him, or at worst that she was being held against her will somewhere, but not in a life-threatening
situation. Everyone had sensed that Kate’s situation had turned far darker.

‘Turn here,’ Jack said, grim voiced, unable to answer the DC’s question.

A triple zero emergency call came into Central Command just as Angela Karim made the turn onto the Seven Sisters one-way system, and alerted police to a fatal stabbing in Tottenham. Scene-of-crime officers and an ambulance crew were duly despatched and local police soon contacted Cam Brodie, as both DCI Jack Hawksworth’s and DI Kate Carter’s mobiles were constantly engaged. Brodie was advised that the man called Schlimey Katz, whom Operation Panther was seeking, had been found dead following a single vicious stab wound to the abdomen. He had been found slumped in the front seat of a Volvo registered in his name. It would have taken several painful minutes for him to die.

‘Good, thanks,’ was all Cam could reply, making it sound as though he was grateful for the information, but privately he meant it a completely different way. He hated that this suspect had likely been involved in too many deaths. Schlimey Katz’s body, Cam was informed, was already on its way to the Whitechapel morgue, where he imagined it would lie not that far from the drawer that held Lily Wu. Cam’s response also reflected his lack of surprise because Moshe Gluck, whom he’d gone to arrest, had also been found dead in his office above Milo’s. Cam had not come across the body himself. He’d been at the Gluck home when the call came through. Apparently it was suicide, although Cam immediately discounted that. Both Gluck and Katz were men of committed faith and neither would
have taken their own lives. Cam had spent enough time in the company of members of this community to know that life was considered sacred and was to be preserved at all costs. He believed that neither of these men had been directly involved in the deaths of any of the victims — although he strongly suspected they were part of the chain of crime that had appropriated those victims. It made them just as guilty in his eyes — no matter how good a businessman Moshe Gluck had been, or that Katz was likely simply a minion and probably on transport duty. They knew, Cam thought savagely, that they’d been sending innocents to a grisly fate. They’d applied some twisted logic to square it with their religion, but fate had caught up with them just the same.

As Cam Brodie was learning of Moshe Gluck’s fate, Malik Khan ordered the door of Sarju Patel’s tiny flat, above the Balti House in Brick Lane, to be bashed down.

He was the second man in and immediately saw the lifeless body of Sarju lying on the carpet in a pool of vomit. The little man’s eyes stared at the ceiling in disbelief, his mouth slack and open; a dried yellowish dribble marking his dark skin. Not far from his hand lay a three-quarter empty bottle of vodka. Malik shook his head. He could barely believe he’d been walking around, sharing a joke or two, with this polite, engaging translator just hours earlier. And yet here amidst the waft of spicy food from below was the man who, it seemed, had lived a double life and was probably responsible for finding the victims Dr Charles Maartens had used in his criminal experiments. Malik had already established through
the Royal Hospital’s nursing team that Sarju — better known as Namzul around the corridors — was a regular in hospital life. No one had anything bad to say about him, and were shocked that the police might be looking for him in connection with ‘that lovely Lily Wu’.

It was Sister Nan who had confirmed the relationship.

She’d barely glanced at the photo of Sarju, but recognised him instantly. ‘Yes, I’ve seen him with the florist, Lily Wu, on several occasions. Drinking coffee together and laughing.’ She had shrugged. ‘They were friends, I thought. He was here regularly, helping patients with translation; he was paid for services to the hospital, but I think he did lots of voluntary work too. And she was here almost daily. I’m sure she told me once that the bulk of her business was in hospital deliveries.’

And so the connection had likely been made, Malik thought, feeling bitterly sad for his boss. A chance meeting of Sarju and Lily — perhaps in the coffee queue, or bumping into each other in the hospital corridors, or Sarju offering to help Lily carry some flowers into the wards — kicked off an acquaintance, and ultimately a friendship was struck. But Lily Wu, it turned out, was convenient. It seemed so sinister and yet so simple. Malik supposed that the two illegal Bangladeshis had probably been looking for Sarju for help with a translation, or perhaps had needed help finding work. Experience told him it would all come out in the wash, although, because they were illegal, the police would perhaps never know what had brought those three together.