Love, Lies And Louboutins

Chapter 9

“You look like proper shit, Ollie.”

Oliver didn’t look up. He continued to stare blankly at the news ticker crawling across the bottom of the television screen.

Jack eyed his brother, whose unshaven jaw and shell-shocked expression plainly said he hadn’t slept in a couple of days. “Get some sleep, at least.”

Oliver surged to his feet and began to pace around the flat. “How the fuck can I sleep with my daughter missing? When I think what might be happening to her, even now—”

“Look, you’re of no use to anyone if you’re an exhausted wreck.”

“And Valery,” Oliver ranted, “why didn’t she keep a closer eye on Jools? That fucking magazine consumes her—”

“This isn’t doing anyone any good,” Jack pointed out. “Go and get some sleep.” He pushed himself off the sofa’s arm and went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. “I’ll keep an eye on the news and make a few calls in the meantime.”

Oliver hesitated. He wanted to argue; he knew Jack could see it on his face. He didn’t approve of his half-brother; he didn’t like what he did for a living, or his cavalier attitude towards – well, towards everything. He and Jack had never really been close.

But despite his flaws, Jack always remembered Julia’s birthdays, always kept in sporadic touch, and always dropped in with armloads of presents every Christmas without fail.

As half-brothers went, he wasn’t perfect, Oliver conceded. But he was blood; they shared a mother. And in this particular instance, Jack’s dubious background could only help.

Oliver passed a hand over his face. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try and sleep for a bit. But wake me the minute – the second – you hear anything.”

Jack nodded and watched as his half-brother disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door. Poor sod. What a turn up.

As he measured water and coffee grounds into the pot, he told himself that this whole thing was likely just a tempest in a teapot. Julia was a good kid, a smart kid. She’d probably just taken off with her new half-Indian boyfriend – no doubt chosen expressly to piss off her parents – for a road trip or a rock festival or some last-minute lark. From his (admittedly) limited experience, Jack knew that most kids didn’t think; they acted, and dealt with the fallout later.

Nevertheless, he reflected with a frown as the scent of Costa Rican coffee filled the air, two things disturbed him. One, Julia had never done anything like this before. Add to that the fact that her boyfriend might be involved with a gang, and there was plenty of reason to be uneasy.

Given the additional fact that they went missing from Bethnal Green – home, by all accounts, of several well-known gangs – Jack was not reassured. Even if Adesh Patel wasn’t a gang member himself, he might be the victim of extortion, or mired in debt to a loan shark with gang ties.

The possibilities were many and varied…and all of them equally disturbing.

The police had no leads, other than sharing Jack’s suspicion that the Turkish Bombacilar gang – more commonly known as the Bombers – might be involved. The detectives questioned the boy’s parents and his Auntie Deepa and got precisely nothing, other than firm assurances that Adesh Patel was a good boy, a good student, and not mixed up with any gangs…

… which might – or might not – be true.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and added a splash of milk, then set it aside to pick up his mobile.

Neither Adesh nor Julia had their mobiles when they went missing, which told him they didn’t plan to be gone long. They went to the boy’s aunt’s house early on Sunday evening. Then they vanished. None of the neighbours saw or heard a thing.

Jack sighed. No surprise there. Even if anyone saw or heard something suspicious, they wouldn’t tell the authorities. Fear of reprisal was a strongly motivating factor for immigrants living anywhere in the borough of Tower Hamlets – not just fear of the gangs, but fear of the police as well. Most of the locals were in the country illegally; getting involved with the law was the last thing any of them wanted.

On impulse, Jack rang a number he hadn’t called in nearly two years. The call was picked up straight away. “Criminal Investigation Department, DS Matthews.”

“Devon? Jack Hawkins. I need some info.”

“Jack, you old rat bastard, what are you up to these days?” He could almost see his ex-partner, leaning back in his chair, feet crossed and propped on his desk.

“You know me, Dev, still operating just outside the law. Some things never change.”

“Yeah, well, the less said about that, the better.” There was the sound of a file drawer scraping open as Dev reached for his ever-present pack of Polos and popped one in his mouth. “So what can I do for you?”

“I hear you lot are shutting down the prossies left and right in Tower Hamlets these days. Clearing out the rubbish for the next Olympics, are you?”

“Officially? The local council is a bit concerned about the alarming rise in the sex trade of late.”

“And unofficially?” Jack prodded.

“Unofficially,” Dev said as he swung his feet to the floor, “most of the sex trafficking in the East End these days is run by Turkish gangs. Got quite a stronghold, they have. We figure it might be bad for tourism. Why the interest? Did I arrest one of your girlfriends?”

Briefly Jack related the details of Adesh and Julia’s disappearance and gave a description of each. “The girl’s my niece,” he finished, and paused. “I’d appreciate it if you keep your eyes open and let me know if you hear anything.”

“You think she might turn up in one of the brothels.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“I hope not,” Jack said grimly. “Thanks for your help. I owe you a steak dinner.”

“You owe me more than that,” Dev retorted. “Try a steak dinner, a night on the town, and tickets to the next Arsenal game.” He paused and let out a short breath. “I hope you find her, Jack.”

“Me, too, mate. Me too.”

Chapter 10

Two hours and a hundred miles or so later, Adesh slowed the Ducati and pulled over.

“Where are we?” Jools asked as she swung herself down from the seat and stood up. Her legs were numb.

“The sign back there said Banbury.”

“Okay. Then we’re in Warwickshire, not far from Shipston-on-Stour.”

Before she could say anything more, a car approached, its headlights sweeping through the darkness just ahead.

“Quick!” Desh hissed. “We’ve got to hide.”

He steered the bike, still running, into a thicket of bushes. Jools crouched down next to him just before headlights raked across their hiding place. They waited for the car to pass.

“We can’t use the motorcycle much longer,” she pointed out. “The police probably have an APW out on it – an all-ports warning,” she explained. “Someone might spot us.”

Desh glanced over at her. “We can leave it here, I suppose. But…where do we go once we ditch it?” He let out a frustrated breath. “I wish I had my mobile.”

“No worries,” Jools said. “I know where we can go.”

“Yeah?” Adesh was sceptical. “Where’s that?”

“My uncle’s place.”

“Your uncle? Won’t he tell your mum, then?”

She shook her head. “He’s not around much; he travels a lot. I only see him once every few years when he visits my dad. But he’ll help us. And he’ll know exactly what to do.”

“Will he be there, do you think?”

“I doubt it,” Jools answered, unconcerned. “But it doesn’t matter; I know where he keeps the spare key. He said if I ever needed a bolt-hole, Barrow Cottage was always there for me.” She paused, embarrassed. “I was furious with Mum and Dad after they first got divorced.”

“How far is it from here?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I was only there the once, when I came up with Dad from London. Not far, I’d say, maybe forty minutes.”

Adesh was silent, thinking. “It’s risky, but I think we should keep on until we get to your uncle’s place. You say it isn’t much farther, and it’s dark, so we should be okay. If we leave the bike here, someone’s bound to find it, and the Bombers will know we’re nearby. Is there a place to hide it once we get there?”

“There’s an old barn,” she said, remembering, “with a haymow. The place used to be a farm years ago.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

As they dragged the Ducati out of the bushes and swung themselves back onto the seat, Jools knew that Desh was as tired as she was; but adrenaline – and fear – spurred them on.

“Which way?” he asked Jools over his shoulder.

She pointed to the right. “That way. Look for signs for Shipston-on-Stour.”

He nodded and turned the bike back onto the road, and they headed off into the Warwickshire darkness to find Barrow Cottage.

“I’ve got something, Jack.”

Jack sat up the next morning and pressed the mobile phone closer against his ear. He’d fallen asleep on Oliver’s sofa, and now his back was killing him. “I’m listening, Dev.”

“We’ve got CCTV footage from a Rotherham motorway station. A white van – a Transit – pulled in just after midnight. Four males exited the van, one started fuelling up, and the others went inside the station.”

“The Bombers?”

“We think so, yeah. As soon as the fourth guy went inside, two people – male and female, late teens or early twenties – rolled out of the van. They disappeared behind a lorry fuelling up at one of the other pumps. The girl’s hands were tied and they both had a scarf of some kind pulled down around their necks.”

“Julia and her boyfriend,” Jack said slowly.

“When the lorry pulled away a few minutes later, there was no sign of either of them. It’s like they vanished right into thin air.”

“Or into the back of that lorry.”

“Most likely, yes. We need to find that lorry driver…and hope that the Bombers don’t find him first.”

Jack stood up abruptly. “Did you get a license number off the van?”

“The plates were covered up. No surprise there.” Dev paused. “But we’ve got a partial number on the lorry. Once we trace the owner, we’ll be a lot closer to knowing where your niece is.”

Barrow Cottage was dark against the night sky when Jools and Adesh arrived a half hour later. It looked just as she remembered it; a small, two-storey house, its Cotswold stone partly obscured by ivy, except the original thatched roof had been replaced with slate.

Daybreak was still an hour or so away; nevertheless, as a precautionary measure, Desh disconnected the bike’s ignition wires and pushed it silently up the sloping hill that led to the cottage.

“No use announcing to all and sundry that we’re here,” he said in a low voice, and yawned.

“I told you, there’s no one here.” Jools felt light-headed with exhaustion, and unaccountably irritable.

Desh looked up at the cottage. “Are you sure?”

“Well, there’s one way to find out, isn’t there?” she retorted, and marched up to the flowerpots lining the path. She lifted the middle one, praying that the spare key was still there. It was.

Cautiously, she fitted the key in the lock and they let themselves in. All was silent save for the ticking of the grandfather clock in one corner of the sitting room. It had ticked in that same corner, according to her uncle, since 1795.

“Hullo?” Jools called out, her eyes searching the hallway and the shadowy environs of the kitchen beyond. “Is anyone here?”

Of course, there was no answer. Relieved, Adesh shut the door behind them and turned the lock. “Best not switch on any lights,” he advised, and headed across the uneven oak floorboards and up the stairs. “I don’t know about you, but I’m knackered.”

She followed him up to the master bedroom – her uncle’s, overlooking sloping pastures and the escarpment beyond – and she was too tired to reply. It was cold. They crawled, fully dressed, into the bed. Adesh drew her close against him.

“G’night, Jools,” he mumbled into her hair.

“G’night,” she mumbled back. Within minutes, they were asleep.

The sound of a rooster crowing startled Jools out of a deep sleep. Now there’s a sound you don’t hear in Maida Vale, she thought sleepily as she sat up. She blinked in the bright shaft of daylight that penetrated the thick brocade curtains, and glanced at the bedside clock to see that it was nearly eleven. Adesh was still sound asleep.

Careful not to disturb him, she pushed the covers aside and got up, wincing as a floorboard creaked beneath her feet. She desperately needed the loo…and she was bloody starving.

Jools hoped one of the kitchen cupboards downstairs unearthed something to eat.

There was a small bathroom at the top of the stairs; she went in, shut the door, and had just finished washing up and splashing her face with cold water when she heard something downstairs.

She froze. It sounded like…a footstep. A quiet, stealthy footstep, as if the intruder knew someone was upstairs.

Shit. Was it the Bombers? Had they tracked her and Adesh down to Barrow Cottage already? It seemed unlikely, and yet – there was definitely someone moving around down there.

Her heart in her throat, Jools turned and made her way as quietly as possible back to the bedroom. She stifled a shriek as she ran smack-bang into Adesh in the hallway.

“Did you hear it?” she whispered, her eyes wide with fear as he gripped her shoulders.

Desh nodded grimly. “Stay here while I go have a look.”

“No way! I’m going with you.” She wasn’t being brave, really; she was far more terrified of being left alone.

By now Adesh knew better than to argue, and together they made their way cautiously to the top of the stairs. Desh grabbed a poker from the bedroom fireplace and clutched it tightly. Jools hovered behind him, terror warring with determination inside her.

I’m not going back into that van with that Turkish lot, she vowed silently. No bloody way.

They stopped as another floorboard creaked downstairs. The sound was closer, now. The intruder was coming – slowly, purposefully, quietly – towards the staircase.

Adesh took a deep breath and stepped forward, brandishing the poker; at the same time, a man materialized in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs, a gun in his hands.

“Don’t move, either of you.” The man’s arm was upraised and his gaze was steady as he leveled the barrel of his pistol squarely on the two of them. “Or I’ll blow your heads off.”

Chapter 11

Jools cried out and shoved Adesh sideways. She heard a loud explosion as the gun fired into the wall just behind them, splintering the bathroom’s doorjamb and sending bits of wood flying.

“Don’t move,” the man at the foot of the stairs commanded as he cocked the hammer, “or I’ll fire again. And this time I won’t miss.”

His faint Australian accent was oddly familiar. Jools peered – very cautiously – around Desh’s shoulder. “Uncle Jack?” she said, incredulous.

“Hello, Julia.” He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her. His blue eyes – and the gun’s sights – remained on Adesh. “And who’s this?”

“Adesh,” she said quickly. “Adesh Patel. It’s okay, we’re…” she hesitated and added defiantly ‘we’re together, Desh and I. We let ourselves in last night. I didn’t think you’d mind. We thought…”

“You thought you’d hide from your new Turkish friends,” Jack finished, and lowered his gun.

“They’re not exactly our friends,” Adesh snapped. “They grabbed us off the street. Why the hell did you shoot at us? We could’ve been killed!”

“Believe me, if I’d wanted to kill you,” Jack said as he re-holstered his weapon, “you’d already be dead.”

Jools pushed past Adesh and came down the stairs. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Leaving aside for the moment the fact that this is my cottage,” Jack responded evenly, “I should be asking you that question.” His eyes were still fixed on Desh’s.

“Listen, I’m starving,” Jools said, not only because it was true, but to alleviate the palpable tension between Jack and Adesh. She brushed past her uncle and made her way down the hall to the kitchen. “We’ll tell you all about it – but first, is there anything to eat in this place?”

“As it happens,” Jack said as he followed her into the kitchen, “you’re in luck. I brought a few groceries along. I’ll just ring your mum and dad and let them know you’re all right.”

“That’d be great, thanks.” She cast him a quizzical glance. “How’d you know we don’t have our mobiles?”

“The police report. Your mother said you’d left yours behind, something – according to her – that you never do.”

A grudging smile tugged at the corners of Jools’s lips. “She’s right. I take my phone everywhere. Don’t know why I didn’t take it last night.” Her smile faded. “Probably because of the row Mum and I had after I got home.”

“How about I make us all a late brekkie after I ring your folks with the happy news? How does that sound?” Jack asked.

“That sounds perfect.” She hesitated. “Tell them…tell Mum I’m okay. And I’m sorry.”

Jack nodded briefly. He paused in front of Adesh, who was leaning against the doorjamb with a guarded expression on his face. “I’ll call your mum as well,” Jack added. “She and your dad are in a proper state.”

“Thanks,” Adesh mumbled.

Jack left to make the calls, and Jools began pulling stuff out of the bags he’d left on the table.

“So this guy’s your uncle?” Adesh asked in a low voice.

As she withdrew a carton of eggs, a loaf of bread, and tins of baked beans and kippers, Jools nodded. “We don’t see him often, but he always brings loads of pressies at Christmas. And he never forgets my birthday—”

“And he carries a gun and shoots at people like – like some kind of an Australian James Bond.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what he does, exactly, and I never asked. All I know is he sells weapons.” She glanced at him and added crossly, “Well, don’t just stand there. You can make the toast. Oh – and find a pan for the baked beans. If you don’t help, you don’t eat.”

“Shit, you’re bossy,” he grumbled, but twisted the loaf of bread open and thrust a couple of slices into the toaster.

“Someone has to be,” she retorted.

“I reckon you’ll make some poor bloke a good wife one day.”

She paused, eggs in hand. “Really? Because I can cook?”

“No. Because he’ll be afraid to say ‘no’ when you ask him to marry you.”

“Ha, ha,” Jools said, and lifted the egg in her hand. “Careful, or you’ll be wearing this instead of eating it.”

Adesh opened the tin of beans, dumped them into a saucepan and set it on the hob. “I met Chara last week.”

“Chara?” She began to crack the eggs, one by one, into a bowl. “Isn’t she the girl your parents want you to marry?”

He nodded but didn’t look at her. “Yeah.”

“But, Adesh – an arranged marriage?” Her expression was incredulous. “You don’t even know this girl! And you said you wanted no part of such an outdated tradition.”

“I didn’t.” He shrugged. “But things change. It’s worked out well for my parents, after all. They’ve been after me to meet her, to give her a chance. So I did. And – she’s okay.”

“So now you want to marry her? A complete stranger?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But it doesn’t hurt to get to know her a bit.”

Jools’s hand tightened on the whisk as she beat the eggs, but – although she wanted to say a great many things - she said nothing. She and Adesh weren’t dating, exactly; they were just friends who hung out sometimes. It was none of her concern what he did. But she liked him. He was different to anyone else she knew.

And she didn’t want to see him get hurt.

Fifteen minutes and somewhat of a mess later, breakfast was ready. They sat at the kitchen table, stuffing themselves on eggs, beans, rashers of bacon, and thickly buttered toast with marmalade. Nothing – at least not to Jools – had ever tasted as good as that fry-up did.

“All right, then, tell me what happened,” Jack said as he mopped up the last of his over-easy egg yolk with a piece of toast, “straight from the beginning.”

Adesh set aside his toast and told Jack about the Bombers, and the protection money his father couldn’t afford to pay. He related their terrifying journey in the back of the van and subsequent escape at the petrol station.

“Did either of you get a look at any of the men who grabbed you?” Jack asked.

Jools shook her head. “It happened so fast. One minute we were waiting on Deepa’s doorstep, and the next…they grabbed us.”

“Do you remember any details? Hair colour, what they were wearing, what they said?”

“Dark hair. They didn’t speak English. It sounded like…Turkish.” She paused and added slowly, “I saw two men standing on the corner when we first got there, smoking. They glanced at us,” she remembered, “and then they looked away. I didn’t pay much attention. But they gave me a bad feeling.”

“Why?”

Jools shrugged. “I don’t know, exactly. I felt as if they were watching us. Waiting.”

“But you don’t remember what they looked like?”

She shook her head. “Not really. Like I said, they had dark hair, and leather jackets, and jeans. Sorry I’m so useless, but it was nearly dark.”

“They dragged us to the van and then they blindfolded us,” Adesh added.

Jools nodded slowly. “Whoever grabbed me smelled of cigarette smoke.” She lifted her gaze to her uncle’s. “And one of the men on the corner had an oil stain on his jacket – like he’d been working on a car.”

“Good girl,” Jack approved. “Was there anything else? Think hard.”

She frowned, and shrugged. “No, nothing. Sorry.”

“I remember something,” Adesh said suddenly. “The bloke that grabbed me? He had a tattoo on his wrist.”

“What kind of tattoo? What did it look like?”

“It was a circle, with an upside-down ‘V’ in the middle.”

“Lots of people have tattoos,” Jools scoffed.

“On the contrary,” Jack said, “this is good. Anything either of you remember – no matter how trivial – might help.” He stood and carried his plate to the sink. “Once we clear up, I’m taking you lot back home.”

Adesh darted a quick glance at Jools. “We can’t go back! What if they try to grab Jools – or me – again?” he demanded.

“They won’t come at your father the same way twice. At any rate, you can’t stay here, either of you. You both have school.”

Jools was silent. St Luke’s Academy, and things like homework and revision, suddenly seemed a million miles away.

Jack ran hot water into the sink and added a liberal squirt of washing-up liquid, then turned to face Adesh. “You said that when you got to your aunt’s house, she wasn’t there. Any idea where she went?”

“No.” Desh pushed his chair back and took his plate to the sink as well.

“Why did you two go there in the first place?”

“Mum needed fenugreek. She was making daal when my aunt called. She said she had plenty and to send me over to fetch it.”

“So something happened between the time your mum called and the time you two arrived… something that caused your aunt to leave quite suddenly.” Jack thrust his hands into the warm, soapy water and began the washing up. “No idea what it might have been?”

“I told you, I don’t know.” Desh scraped a bit of dried egg from his plate into the bin. He glanced at Jack and his dark eyes were suspicious. “Why the questions? Didn’t the police ask my auntie these things already?”

“They couldn’t.” Jack paused. “She didn’t come back home.”

“What?” Adesh’s expression darkened. “Why not? What happened? And why didn’t you tell me sooner? Those bastards didn’t grab her, did they?”

“Adesh,” Jack said gently, his hands gone still in the soapy water, “I’m sorry, but your aunt was shot at some point before you two arrived. She survived – but she’s in hospital, in a serious condition. I’m sorry.”

“What? Shit!” The plate slid from Adesh’s fingers and crashed onto the floor. He turned on Jack in fury. “I don’t believe you! Who would shoot her? Why? You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re wrong. Wrong!”

“I wish I was.”

“I can’t…fuck,” Adesh murmured, his expression anguished as he sank down onto a chair. “Why would anyone hurt my Auntie Deepa?”

“I’m sorry, Desh,” Jools murmured, and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Does your aunt have any kids?” Jack asked.

Desh nodded. “A daughter, my cousin. Christa.”

“Christa? Not a very Indian name, that.”

“She’s half-Anglo.” Desh met his eyes and added, “Like me.”

If he heard the challenge in Adesh’s voice, Jack gave no sign. “Does she still live on the Mile End Road?”

Adesh shook his head. “No. She has a townhouse in Primrose Hill.”

“Primrose Hill, eh? She must do all right for herself.”

“She’s a singer. You must’ve heard of her – her new song’s in the pop charts.”

“No, sorry.” Jack finished rinsing the plates and pulled out the broom. “I don’t keep up with pop singers. Where is she now?”

But he already knew the answer. It was true he didn’t follow celebs; he only followed the exploits of that half-baked rocker, Dominic Heath, because he’d recently married Gemma. And Christa had jetted off with Dominic in his Lear…

..leaving his beautiful new bride behind.

Still, he was curious to see what information Adesh might have about his celebrity cousin.

“I don’t know where Christa is,” the boy said, visibly annoyed. “I don’t keep up with her. We’re not that close. And I hate pop music.”

“Fair enough.” Jack glanced at his niece. “How about grabbing a dish towel and drying those plates, Julia?”

“It’s Jools,” she informed him coolly as she grabbed a towel off the drying rack.

Jack made no reply, but he gave her a hard look before he began sweeping up the broken bits of plate from the floor, and without another word, she began to dry the plates.