Page 63 of Lethal Torture
Does it ever stop?I wonder.Will I ever stop hoping that this container is the one in which I will find Sophie?
“We need to track down where these girls are going,” Niamh is saying. “And this is a start, at least. We can’t bust them open, or we’ll expose our contact.”
She clicks over to a shipping manifest. Two container numbers are highlighted on it, one in yellow, the other in pink. She taps the yellow one. “Our tip-off is that this container will be emptied on Saturday night. We’re going to watch who opens it and then follow them, try to get a lead on who is behind this.”
“Following them sounds like a good idea.”
Not as good as rescuing the girls and killing the motherfuckers who took them.
I sip my sparkling water, keeping my expression carefully neutral.
“According to our contact, only one container will be emptied on Saturday.” Niamh’s eyes flick up to mine. “We’ll follow whoever transports the girls inside it, find out where they go. But apprehending the transport vehicle will ruin any chance we have of catching whoever is behind this. And searching the yard will risk exposing our contact in security.”
“That’s unfortunate.” I stare at the pink number long enough to memorize it, then raise my eyes to her and nod.
Saving one shipment is better than none,I tell myself.
She takes a deep breath and closes the screen. “Let’s hope tracking the girls leads us to whoever is bringing them in.”
No chance.
My fingers curl into a fist beneath the table. One of the reasons men like Georgiy Ivanov end up cockless and dead at my hands is because the NCA, for all of Niamh’s best efforts, are usually ten steps behind the kind of information I get access to. Put simply, it takes a criminal mind like mine to understand how men like that operate.
It also takes time.
And meanwhile, I have to stand by and watch an entire shipment of women go to whatever hell they’re destined for.
“Well, as you know, sometimes girls from those shipments turn up at Sophie’s House. I’ll let you know if any of them give us information that might be useful.”
I smile at her despite my clenched fist under the table.
There’s no point pushing the issue. And this is how these things have to work.
Hints. Innuendo.
Nothing that might put Niamh in more danger than she already is.
She risks her career every time we have these discussions. The home secretary might have plausible deniability, but Niamh’s career is over if anyone even suspects her of having this conversation.
“Zin.” Her eyes settle on mine with an unusually grave expression. “Don’t think I’m not grateful for your... efforts.”
I raise my eyebrows. “But?”
“You saw theDaily Truth.” She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “Those efforts are attracting a little too much unwanted attention. You need to be more careful. More... discreet, perhaps.”
My hands twist beneath the table.
“The home secretary seemed to think the Minister for Trade might have had something to do with the story,” I say, watching her closely.
Enzo is still working on the private secretary. Luke’s file on Lowbridge is virtually encyclopedic. But as yet, we still don’t have any real fix on the man. And I agree with Luke about treading carefully.
Only my inner circle was aware that I was closing in on Ivanov, yet someone is dripping my secrets straight to a sitting member of the House of Lords.
“That prick Lowbridge.” Niamh nods, her face darkening. “He’s always wanted Agatha’s job. He was never going to get it,of course, not while he’s still running a Fortune 500 company. Politicians might all be corrupt pricks, but they have their limits. And besides, nobody likes a social climber, even an extremely wealthy one.Especiallya really wealthy one.” Her mouth twists. “He’s doing everything he can to bring Agatha down, unfortunately.”
“Any idea where Lowbridge got the idea that we’re working together?” Waving off Niamh’s protests, I refill her glass.
“That’s bloody good wine. No,” she says. “Probably just a good guess. Although I was a bit surprised he’d risk pissing you off, given that I understand he wants an invitation to your Winter Ball.”
