Ultimate Justice (5 page)

“You’ve piqued my interest now.”

“You remember Angela North, don’t you?”

After a brief pause, Lorne replied, “Umm…‌the girl you went to school with, you mean? Vaguely, why?”

“That’s the one. Well, last year she got married out in the Maldives to a very wealthy guy.”

Lorne whistled. “Nice to hear at least some people manage to land on their feet.”

“Idiot. You’d be lost without Tony, and since when has money ever mattered to you?”

“Yeah, you have a point. So what’s the problem—with Angela, I mean?”

“Well, she rang me in tears yesterday. Roger, her husband, employed an au pair to take care of Angela’s stepson. This is Roger’s second marriage; his first wife died about two years ago. He wouldn’t tell her how his wife, Celia, died.”

“I see, and…?”

“At first she found it hard to accept the au pair—jealousy, I’m guessing. But over the past few months, she’s grown to really like and appreciate Jai San.”

Lorne started making a wind up motion with her free hand. This was typical of Jade. She loved to gossip and stretch a story to its maximum, something that annoyed Lorne more often than not. “I hate to hurry you up, hon, but I have a few chores still left over from this morning that I have to complete before sunset.”

“You cheeky cow! I’m getting there as fast as I can. Anyway, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, the girl collapsed last night, for no reason. When she woke up it took Angela over three hours to worm the problem out of her. And Lorne, it’s horrendous. I’m shaking just thinking about what that girl must be going through.”

“Jade!
Please
get to the point.”

“You always were the most impatient person I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing,” Jade said, her frustration evident.

“Yeah, and you’ve always been the most melodramatic person I know, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. Tell me, for goodness sake!”

“I’m not sure if you saw what happened in the storm?”

“Yeah, it was all over the news. I know the roads were terrible to get by. Was the house hit by a tree or something? Was someone badly injured?”

“Listen, will you?” Jade snapped back in annoyance. “It’s been in the news, every hour on the hour—you must have seen it. That ship, boat, whatever you call it, that was ripped apart in the storm.”

Lorne gasped. She had an inkling she knew what was coming next. She’d momentarily drifted off, and the sound of her sister’s voice shouting through the phone brought her out of her reverie.

“Lorne? Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry, Jade. What about the ship?”

“I just bloody told you. Jai San’s sister was aboard. She’s dead. She was sixteen, for Christ’s sake.
Sixteen!
” said Jade, overreacting as she always did when she knew someone involved in something traumatic.

“Damn,” Lorne muttered under her breath.

“Damn! Damn, is that all you can say? I expected more from you. I thought you’d be interested after what they’re saying about this boat.”

“Sorry, Jade, my mind is elsewhere. Obviously it’s a sickening situation, truly awful. Can you make arrangements for me to visit your friend perhaps?”

“Of course, I’ll give Angela a call,” Jade said, her tone softening a little, “and get back to you later.”

Lorne spent the rest of the afternoon distracted and deep in thought.
What were the odds of two of the victims having family employed by people she knew? How rife had human trafficking become?
After the case with the Unicorn, Lorne had hoped that certain restrictions had been put in place to help combat the heinous crime, but obviously it wasn’t enough. She felt sickened that people were still being abused in this manner. If only she had a government contact who could give her an inside take on what they were doing to combat this abhorrent crime in this so called civilised part of the world.

“What’s wrong, love?” Tony came up behind her chair and massaged her shoulders.

Of course, Tony.
She tilted her head to the side and rested her cheek on the back of one of his hands. “The usual—busy thinking.”

He squeezed her shoulder and then sat in the chair next to her. “About the shipwreck?”

She nodded, and thought for a second or two before she spoke again, “How friendly are you with MI6/5 at the moment?”

Tony’s eyes rose to the ceiling and he inhaled deeply. “I know where you’re going with this, and I’m not sure I want to go down that road, hon.”

“Not even when innocent people are being brutalised and victimised in this way? You’d be
happy
to sit back and watch that happen, would you? Don’t forget what happened to you in Afghanistan!” She paused. “Sorry, hon, that was a bit harsh.”

Tony fell back in his chair. “That’s not fair and you know it. The authorities have this case in hand. Let’s see what happens in the next day or two, huh?”

“They could take weeks to sift through the wreckage. The victims’ families need some form of justice now.”

“Lorne, you know how these things work—”

She cut him off with a raised hand and an angry look. “Please don’t give me that tired old cliché about Rome not being built in a day.”

“Okay, I won’t. But you know it’s true.”

“Yeah, I know you’re right. That doesn’t mean to say that it’s any less frustrating. I want to get on and try to do something to help these poor people get out of the situation they’re in. It’s too late for some of them, but there are probably thousands more out there caught up in similar positions. I can’t help thinking that the ones killed in that horrific storm are better off dead, compared to the sickening alternative. It’s the thousands of people out there being shunted around from country to country to the highest bidder who I want—
need
—to help. I know what my daughter went through. That poor girl—Sasha—who tried to help Charlie was forced to endure the dreadful sight of her own family being burned at the stake, and her captors did it just to keep her in line. These innocent people are treated worse than animals by scum wanting to line their pockets.”

All the way through her ranting speech, Tony’s eyes remained fixed firmly on hers. She knew he felt the same way as she did, and she admired the way he could keep a lid on his anger—something she lacked.

“The slave trade has been with us since the year dot, Lorne. I doubt that will ever change. You may be Wonder Woman in most regards, but I don’t think even you’ll be able to do much to alter things in that respect.”

“You’re probably right, as usual, but I’m not prepared to give up now, Tony.”

“I never doubted that for a second.”

CHAPTER SIX

D
erek Croft left his
office faster than a Formula One racecar once the call came in. He had a fire in his belly that was causing havoc with his newly diagnosed ulcer. He’d spent most of the day on the phone to several of his informants, mostly with negative results, until half an hour ago, when Sammy had called him. The twenty-year-old druggie had never let him down in the past, so Croft knew it was imperative to get over to the site ASAP. Or as fast as his battered old VW Golf would carry him.

With night already setting in, he screeched to a halt and parked several roads from the location he’d been given. The area was a built-up industrial zone, quiet after a busy day’s trading. An icy chill flowed through his veins that had nothing to do with the air temperature when he got out of the car. Armed with his camera, he ran down one narrow road and then the next, until he found the address Sammy had suggested where he would find what he was after. Several stray dogs roamed the vicinity looking for scraps, but they scattered in different directions when he dashed past them.

Croft scanned the area for a possible hideaway observation point. He was in the process of settling himself behind a massive industrial metal dumpster when he heard a distant vehicle approaching. He threw himself behind his chosen cover and peeked out to watch a large ten-tonne truck pull to a halt in front of the gates, obscuring his view. He mentally kicked himself for not being able to take any pictures; if he used his camera in the fading light, the flash would kick in, automatically giving away his whereabouts.

Once the metal railing gates had been opened, the truck drove through the opening and stopped on the other side. A large bruiser of a guy jumped down from the cab. After high-fiving the two men already waiting in the yard, the driver stretched out the muscles in his back before the three of them shared a joke and moved to the rear of the truck.

Croft inched forward and craned his neck, but his view was limited. Now he had a dilemma: did he move position and risk getting caught, or did he sit tight in the hope that he’d hear and eventually see something useful? Once the men had moved to the back of the truck, his limited view became even more restricted. He couldn’t decipher the murmuring voices. His frustration mounted and grew tenfold within seconds, forcing him to rethink his strategy.

Taking advantage of the noise the men were making as they unlatched the doors to the truck, Croft snuck out from behind the dumpster and crept several feet closer, but he couldn’t find anything else suitable to hide behind. Defeated, and conscious that he might blow his cover, Croft returned to his original position.

He heard the men shouting orders, then numerous slaps, followed by screams and men’s laughter. 
Shit! Sammy was spot on. There are girls on that truck.
 Panicked by the knowledge, Croft’s heart pounded harder against his ribcage. 
What the fuck have I stumbled across here? Are the girls kept here? Moved elsewhere?
 
What a story! 
However, without photographic evidence, he knew he’d have a hard time selling it to his boss.”
I should call the authorities.
 
Fuck that! I need this job. I need this story!

It was another twenty minutes before the yard fell quiet. He didn’t have a clue how many people had been transferred inside the building. He settled back on his haunches, pulled his jacket up around his neck to ward off the draft, and prepared to wait it out for the next few hours.
I bet the bastards are in there groping the girls.

Several hours later, Croft was startled awake by activity as the truck started up and the gates were flung open. He held his breath as the truck stopped outside the gates and two men jumped into the cab. With the driver already behind the wheel, he assumed that the three men he’d seen inside the yard had all just vacated the area in the truck. He decided to give it another five minutes before he made his move.

Cautiously, he approached the gates. They were high, but not insurmountable. The only problem he could foresee was if there were any hidden cameras angled at the gates recording his movements. Did he have the bottle to attempt to climb them?
Nope! I don’t.

He decided to go home and write up the story. A story that his boss was either going to praise him or sack him for in the morning when he placed it on his desk.

CHAPTER SEVEN

L
orne read the article
in the national newspaper, her mouth dropping open in horror. She’d had dealings with this particular journalist over the years and hadn’t liked him one bit, but something about the way he’d had the balls to write the story others had so far avoided made her admire his courage.

“What’s that, love?” Tony asked as he came down for breakfast. After flicking the switch on the kettle, he sat down beside her at the table.

Lorne handed him the paper without saying a word.

Tony was quiet for several minutes, absorbed in the story, until he let out an ear-splitting whistle. “He’s either very brave, or bloody stupid.”

“For running the story?”

Tony glanced up at her. “Er…‌yeah. Do you know this reporter guy?”

“I’ve had certain dealings with him in the past. Pete used to call him ‘the Ferret.’ He never liked to leave a stone unturned on a story. The dirtier the details, the better, as far as he was concerned. He used to hound me for days trying to be the first to get the scoop on some of the nastier cases I had to deal with at the Met.” Tony’s expression turned thoughtful, prompting Lorne to ask, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Think about it. The other day, you were asking me about my contacts in MI6. Now it looks to me like this guy has his finger firmly on the pulse of this story.”

“I couldn’t get in touch with
him
.”

Tony shrugged. “Not sure you have any other options left open to you. So far, Katy hasn’t come up with much to go on. It’s all been hush-hush from her end, which to me stinks of something.”

Lorne frowned. “A cover-up?”

“Maybe. Look at all the high profile people who were connected with Charlie’s case. All those dignitaries intent on getting their end away with those unfortunate teenage girls. What happened to the filthy bastards? Nothing, absolutely fuck all. Even though we had CCTV evidence to prove they attended that ‘auction of human flesh,’ the bastards got away with it, as usual.”

Heat erupted through her veins at the thought of dirty old men getting away with treating young girls in such a deplorable way. It seemed the more corrupt you were, the easier life became. Perhaps Tony had a point about using Croft. He obviously had good contacts at his disposal to get the inside take on this story.

Tony interrupted her thoughts to add, “Go on, swallow your pride and give him a call. Between us, I think we could make a difference. If we all tackled this case as individuals, we could get in each other’s way and these guys could get away with it for years to come. Let’s try and put
this
gang out of action, at least. What do you say?”

Lorne’s indecision didn’t hang around for long. “Okay, you win!” She left the kitchen and walked into the lounge, she picked up the phone and dialled the number on the card she had retrieved from her handbag. “Derek?” It shocked her to hear him answer after only one ring.

“Yep, who’s this?”

“Umm…‌Lorne Warner…‌er…‌I guess you’d remember me as Simpkins, though.”

“Well what do you know? The great Simpkins ringing me for a change, who’d have thunk it?”