Depth of Despair (7 page)

Tom Pratt had barely begun introducing his officers when the door opened to admit a young woman with striking good looks. She could have been anything from twenty-five to thirty-five years old. She wore a light-grey business suit and white blouse which served to enhance the effect of her lustrous auburn hair. Clara watched as the woman strode confidently into the room. Ever keen to see Nash’s reaction to a good looking woman, Clara’s gaze shifted to her boss. Nash was staring at the Russian as she advanced to greet the rest of the party. His face was drained of colour. He was clinging to the edge of the table, his knuckles white. Clara stared; this was an effect she’d never witnessed before. ‘Mike, you OK?’ she whispered. There was no answer.

The Russian sat at one end of the table with Armistead and Pratt at the other. Nash was next to Commander Dacic, with DCI Fleming opposite him. From her position alongside Fleming, Mironova was able to concentrate on Dacic’s address whilst keeping an eye on her boss. Nash’s attention was not divided; throughout the meeting he kept his gaze unwaveringly on the Russian. He’d recovered a little colour but still looked shaken. Whatever the reason it had not been a two-way effect. Dacic gave no sign of recognition, no indication that meeting Nash was more than a professional encounter. So what had caused such a
devastating
effect?

‘I’d like to start by telling you about myself,’ Dacic began. ‘Then I’ll give a detailed report.’

She held up a folder, ‘This will help to explain the reason for my being here. My department has put together a fact sheet. These will be available for you to refer to,’ she looked up and smiled. ‘Don’t worry; they are in English, not Russian,’ she smiled at Clara. ‘Although that wouldn’t be a challenge for one of you.

‘My name is Snjezana Dacic. Not easy for the English tongue, I know. Please call me Zena. It means “Snow Woman” in Croatia where I was born thirty-three years ago. My parents,’ she paused and then corrected herself, ‘my mother moved to live in St Petersburg when I was nine years old.’

Mironova saw Zena’s eyes darken as if at some bad memory.
‘Now to the case details. As Inspector Nash has worked out, we believe the skeletons taken from your lake are victims of human trafficking. Following the disbanding of the old Republic, this evil business has become prevalent throughout Europe and beyond. This was not seen as a problem in Britain until recently.’ Dacic paused to let the implication of this sink in. ‘The excellent work by Inspector Nash and his team has given us chance to combat this evil.

‘Please study the sheets you’ll be handed later, particularly if your resolve weakens. I’m afraid much of what’s in here isn’t for those with queasy stomachs. Now, allow me to give you some facts.’ She opened a file and glanced at it.

‘In some countries the percentage of women from Russia and other Eastern European states working in the sex trade is so great that prostitutes are referred as “Natashas”. Trade in women’s flesh is lucrative and low risk compared to the supply of drugs or firearms. These are frowned on in most societies; however,
prostitution
is tolerated, encouraged, and in some countries legal.

‘When
perestroika
came, it gave an opportunity for traffickers to smuggle women across borders,’ Dacic paused. ‘Willing or not. Statistics might help illustrate what we’re fighting. In Germany, recent investigations revealed almost 90 per cent of all prostitutes were from Eastern Europe. A separate enquiry showed that over half a million have been smuggled to the West over an eight-year period from Ukraine alone.

‘One of our difficulties is persuading people to believe
prostitutes
do not earn large sums of money.’ Zena looked up, ‘It is not like the film
Pretty Woman.
Women are tempted from poverty, betrayed by promises of work. Or they are kidnapped. I’ll illustrate with three examples. Believe me, I could bring three hundred or three thousand just as easily.’

She turned the page and studied it. ‘An eighteen-year-old girl replied to a newspaper advertisement for a training course in Germany. To reach there she travelled on a false passport. When she arrived she was told the school had closed and that she must continue on to Belgium, where she would find work as a waitress. In Brussels she was told she owed $10,000 and to repay this she must work as a prostitute. Her passport was taken. She was
threatened, beaten and repeatedly raped. When she escaped she was arrested because she had no papers. Only when a medical examination revealed evidence of torture was she believed.’ Dacic added softly. ‘There were more than one hundred cigarette burns on her body.

‘Another girl was twenty-one when she was recruited by, I regret to say a woman, who said her daughter was working in Greece and earning good money. When the girl arrived in Greece her passport was taken and she was locked in a room in a brothel, guarded by two fierce dogs. She was visited every night by men demanding sex. This lasted every night from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. She escaped. When she arrived back in Ukraine she had only $55.

‘Another,’ the Commander turned a further page, ‘is from the poorest region of Ukraine. She was told that rich families in United Arab Emirates were looking for housemaids. Her passport was also taken and she was sold to a brothel keeper for $7,000. She was made to work as a prostitute to repay the purchase price and her travel costs. She escaped and went to the police for help.’ Dacic ended, ‘She was arrested and sentenced to three years in prison for prostitution.’

She sipped her water. ‘I’m quoting these examples for you to understand the size of the problem and the ruthlessness of the
traffickers
. There is even more wickedness, believe me. We have evidence that when women have earned enough to leave, their pimps tip off corrupt police officials. The women are deported and the pimps keep the money.

‘Recruitment is done by misleading advertisements. They offer high wages for unskilled work as waitresses, domestic servants, nannies, dancers or hostesses. Other advertisements take the form of “marriage agencies”. Inspection of newspapers in Ukraine and Russia found up to twenty such advertisements in every issue.

‘So far, there have been few cases of this abuse in your country,’ Dacic smiled grimly. ‘But let’s not be complacent. With the large influx of foreigners, asylum seekers etcetera, this form of activity is increasing. I’ll give you one example of how much this business is worth. A doctor from Ukraine set up a brothel in Essex employing non-English-speaking girls. She was in business only eight months. In that time she made a profit of more than £130,000. That was
several years ago,’ Zena told them. ‘I can confirm prices have not reduced.’

Someone, Mironova thought it was DS Thomas, whistled in surprise.

There was a knock at the door. ‘That’ll be the coffee.’ Tom Pratt signalled the break in proceedings. By the look of Dacic’s audience, it had come none too soon.

Zena reminded them when they resumed, ‘I quoted those
examples
purely to give you an idea of the size of the problem and the character of those involved. I’m sad to say you haven’t heard the worst. The criminals are always looking for new ways to make money. They found that if a man will pay for the service of
prostitute
, some will pay even more to have sex with a child.

‘It didn’t matter how they acquired them. Using offers of
adoption
, by paying poor families or simply kidnapping. They supply young girls and boys across borders to be imprisoned in special establishments. They are raped, sodomized and forced into
indescribable
sexual acts by anyone prepared to pay. Many acts are filmed and appear for sale on the internet or in videos. They are bought by other perverts and the criminals make even more profit.

‘It’s impossible to estimate the number whose childhood has been ruined, whose chance of a decent life is over before it began. All we can do is try to stop this evil and punish the criminals.’ Dacic turned to Nash. ‘We believe your assessment of the motive for the murder of the bodies in the lake is correct. If a young girl becomes pregnant there will be no abortion. The criminals will simply order her killed. If a girl or boy becomes infected,
particularly
with HIV, they are disposed of. They’ve ceased to be an asset. They’re a liability. The cost of a bullet is small. It’s crimes like these that my department was set up to investigate. Our director has authority from the highest level of government. The phone call I received before this meeting was to pass on a message of encouragement from the President of Russia.

‘So far, we’ve had some success, but we’ve a long way to go to identify the people controlling this operation. We need all possible help. Your investigation is vital. I can think of no more wicked crime than the abuse of children.’

After Dacic conducted a question and answer session, they broke for lunch. Armistead had booked a table at The Golden Bear. As they were crossing the market place, Mironova manoeuvred herself alongside Nash, ‘Are you all right, Mike?’

He looked at her warily. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘From the look on your face when the Commander entered the room I thought you’d seen a ghost.’

Nash stopped. He looked round to make sure there was no one within earshot. ‘That was pretty much it. You remember the dream I had last night?’

‘In a forest with a young woman shooting a man?’

‘The woman looked exactly like Zena Dacic.’

‘But you’d never met her. You’ve only spoken on the phone.’

‘No, I hadn’t met her. But the last thing I got from Viv was that collection of facts about Dacic from the internet.’

Armistead opened the afternoon session, which was spent
examining
evidence and planning strategy. He announced that he would be returning to London that evening. ‘DCI Fleming and DS Thomas will also be travelling south. They’ve to give evidence at the trial of a terrorist suspect. They should be back in a few days.’

Nash responded on behalf of the local force. ‘Tomorrow will be taken up with the post-mortems on the three latest victims. Whilst we’re at the mortuary we should see if Zena recognizes any of the men killed at the Carthill house. I also thought Zena would want to talk to the girl.’

‘That’s true,’ Dacic agreed eagerly. ‘The sooner the better. Next day, if Mikhail would be so good,’ she smiled at Nash, ‘I wish to visit this tarn.’

Ramirez had completed his examination. Any significant findings would have to wait until laboratory testing provided genetic evidence. For the moment he was able to confirm only that there was deformation of the pubic bones. ‘This suggests a similar history of abuse. I’d be surprised if the profile of these victims didn’t match the earlier ones. The cause of death is the same, right down to the calibre of the bullet which is 0.22.’

‘I’d like Commander Dacic to view the bodies of the men killed at Carthill.’

Ramirez led them to the body cabinet. ‘The killer did not place the men’s own genitalia in their mouths. Each received a set belonging to one of the others.’

‘A gesture of contempt?’ Nash suggested.

Zena stared at the corpse. ‘Hatred and rejection also,’ she added. ‘I don’t recognize this one. The man who found the bodies is a mailman, I believe?’

‘It was a postman who reported the deaths,’ Nash contradicted. ‘But he wasn’t the first to find them.’

‘Why do you say that?’

Mironova was also taken aback by Nash’s statement.

‘When we searched the house, four of the five beds were made up. That suggests there were four inhabitants plus Milla. Before we arrived someone removed every document from the house. There wasn’t even a utility bill or a rent statement.

‘It was also obvious the wardrobe and drawers had been rifled and some clothing removed.’

Zena stared at him with growing respect. ‘How do you know?’

‘We found a single sock with a very distinctive pattern.’

Zena smiled at him. ‘You see things others miss.’

‘Sometimes I get lucky,’ Nash returned Zena’s smile with a warm look.

Mironova thought, ‘Here we go again.’

‘You don’t have to be so modest, Mikhail,’ Zena’s tone was caressing enough to confirm Clara’s suspicions. ‘Wasn’t it a famous golfer who said, “the more I practice, the luckier I get”?’

‘Hell’s bells,’ Mironova thought. ‘I’ve heard of some strange places to start a flirtation but the middle of a mortuary beats all.’

Mexican Pete obviously had similar ideas, for he coughed none too discreetly. ‘When you’re ready, perhaps you wouldn’t mind examining the other corpses? Some of us have work to do.’

Clara noticed Nash’s colour was a little heightened and Zena’s was also a shade deeper than previously.

Neither of the other men was known to the Russian. On their return to Netherdale police station Zena suggested that she share the DNA evidence she’d brought from St Petersburg with them. ‘We have classifications within the general gene pool and by close examination it may be possible to narrow down the origin of the victims. Is it possible some of your team could assist? The strands in each DNA ladder have to be examined in entirety. With more eyes the job will be faster.’

‘I’ll ask Superintendent Pratt. This is his jurisdiction. My
responsibility
is limited to Helmsdale and only Clara and DS Pearce work directly with me. I’m sure it’ll be okay.’

‘Perhaps you’ll play me the tape of your interview with the girl

before I speak to her.’ Zena listened to the recording in silence. ‘Poor child,’ she said as Clara switched the machine off. ‘Milla’s first luck was when she fell into your hands. Many officers would have treated her only as a killer, not a victim. It seems to me she has retained her spirit, which is remarkable after such an ordeal.’

Milla was being held in a children’s unit. Nash listened to Clara’s translation of Zena’s questions and Milla’s responses. He watched the Russian woman and the young girl in turn. It was clear from Milla’s body language that Zena had put her at ease. Nothing in the
conversation seemed to shake her composure. When Zena stood up to signify the end of the meeting Nash said, ‘Ask Milla if she’d like some different clothes.’

Milla was dressed in the outfit she’d been wearing when arrested. She flushed bright scarlet when Nash’s question was translated and he saw her eyes were bright with tears. Tears of shame and anger he supposed. He’d left gratitude out of the
equation
. Milla accompanied her joyful acceptance by seizing his hand and shaking it vigorously. ‘I take it the answer’s yes,’ Nash laughed. He retained his hold on Milla’s hand and looked the youngster in the eye. ‘Tell Milla you’ll take her to the shops tomorrow to buy what she wants. I’ll pay, but don’t tell her that. Ask her if she likes ice cream and take her to Sandoni’s on the High Street. Tell her it’s the best ice cream in the world.’

‘St Nicholas arrives in a police car, not on a sleigh,’ Zena teased him as they left the youngster. ‘Mikhail, that was a very nice thing you did. I think there is more to you than just a good detective.’

‘I was thinking the same about you, Zena. That there is more to you than meets the eye, much more.’

Mironova was due in court next morning so Nash collected Zena to take her to Cauldmoor. Once they’d passed Bishop’s Cross and were heading for the high moorland Zena said, ‘I understand what you meant when you said how remote this place is. But you forgot to mention how dreary.’

‘It gets lonelier and drearier the closer we get.’

The moor was covered in a mist so heavy and clinging Nash was obliged to turn on his wipers and fog lights. They pulled up
alongside
the gate leading to Misery Near. News of the discovery of three more skeletons had reached the press but they’d relied on archive photographs rather than sending photographers. Nor were there any members of the public about.

Lamentation Tarn glittered dully with dark malevolence. The Grieving Stones reflected what little light there was from the wetness of their weathered surface. Across the tarn, the bothy hunched miserably against the hillside, its dark timbers barely visible through the gloom.

Zena shivered superstitiously as she stared at the dank,
mist-laden
scene. ‘This is an evil place,’ she murmured. ‘Let’s go to look at this aptly named tarn before my resolve vanishes in the fog.’

Nash led the way in silence. He was about to unlock the bothy door when Zena said, ‘Wait please, Mikhail. I want to see where you found the bear.’

He showed her the narrow gap behind the bothy. ‘It was a day much like this when she came here, although the rain was heavier. I think she knew what they were going to do so she hid the bear. A forlorn hope that someone would investigate. A message in a bottle, I suppose you’d call it.’ He looked at Zena, ‘Do you have a photograph?’

Dacic stared at Nash as if he’d gone crazy. It was a while before she spoke. ‘How do you know all that?’ She demanded.

‘Show me the photograph. If I’m right, I’ll tell you.’

Dacic shrugged. ‘This had better be good.’

She unzipped her document case and pulled out a photo. Nash gazed at it intently, ‘Yes, that’s her.’

‘Tell me.’

‘After we found the toy I was puzzled. I realized the bear couldn’t belong to either of the girls whose bodies we’d recovered. I wondered how that bear had got here. That night I dreamed I saw someone standing here. It was like today with mist and rain all round. She was terrified, weeping and talking to Mitya, her last, her only friend in the world. Then she hid him and the dream ended. I woke up.’

Zena stared at him with open-mouthed incredulity. She spluttered indignantly, ‘What madness is this? You can’t have such dreams. This is the road to insanity. How do you know this is the girl?’

‘I just do.’ Nash stared at Zena for so long that she stirred uneasily.

‘Nash, please explain, what is the meaning of all this?’

He noted she’d reverted to using his surname. ‘I’ll tell you about a different dream, about men in a forest. Ones shot in cold blood.’ Nash pulled the newspaper clipping from his pocket and held it up. ‘You shot them didn’t you?’ Zena’s eyes widened with shock. ‘Was it because of your sister? Is that why you killed them? In revenge for what they did? Is that why you’re fighting this crusade so ferociously?’

Nash watched her carefully. He saw her eyes glaze over and steadied her as she swayed. He led her to the bothy door. ‘Rest on the couch until you feel better. I’ll brew some tea. You’ll have to drink it without milk.’

He moved to the kitchen area, grateful there was still some bottled water. He thought, ‘What the hell am I doing? Why did I say all that? Maybe these nightmares are a form of madness. What did Zena call it, road to insanity?’ He heard her stirring slightly.

Nash walked over and sat down alongside her. ‘Feeling better? I didn’t mean to frighten you but I didn’t know how else to prove my point.’

She stared at him, her dark eyes moist. ‘I don’t understand. How do you know? Who told you?’

Nash reached out and touched her arm. ‘No one told me anything. As I said, I have dreams.’ He sighed and put his head in his hands.

‘Are you psychic?’

Nash shook his head. ‘No,’ he continued gloomily, ‘I’m not psychic. I’m not sure what I am. I don’t understand these
nightmares
or where they come from.’

‘You have many?’

‘Not many. Only when I’m stressed.’

‘I can’t believe you dream these things. If it helps solve crime that would be good, but I guess it’s more of a curse than a blessing.’

Nash tried to explain. ‘I’ve no idea how it happens. After I’d held the bear and thought about the owner the dream came to me. Later, I read about you and saw the article about your father. I’d read the case years ago so I suppose the rest was inevitable.’

He shrugged, ‘I dreamed about you before we met. Although, of course, I didn’t know it was you. All I’d seen was a photo
downloaded
from the internet. When you walked in the office, it was a total shock.’

Zena was watching him closely. ‘I remember it every morning when I awake; every evening before I go to sleep. I was six years old, my sister was eleven. Two men came, servants of the local party chief. This was before the end of the old system; men such as him were more powerful than the Tsars. It was known he liked little girls but there was nothing anyone could do. We were alone
in our house. She saw the men and made me hide. She may have been trying to protect me. I don’t know.

‘I came out of my hiding place when I heard her screams. I saw them putting her in the car. I remember screaming at them to stop but they took no notice.

‘It was three months before she was found. She was wandering the streets of the nearest town. Starving and with only the remnants of the clothes she was wearing when she was taken. They hadn’t even the decency to bring her home.

‘My father and mother were distraught. We nursed her back to health but her mind was gone. My job was to sit with her when Mother and Father were out. I remember her staring through the window with empty eyes. I told her jokes and stories and she stared through that hole in the wall as if I wasn’t there. One day she vanished. She walked five miles to the nearest railroad, laid down on the lines and waited. It was her twelfth birthday. After the funeral my father said he was going for a walk. When he hadn’t returned, Mother sent me to look for him. I found him.’ Zena’s face was red and distorted. Tears flowed unchecked, unnoticed. ‘At first I didn’t realize what was hanging from the oak tree. Then I saw it was a body. There was only a light breeze. It moved the leaves and swung the body towards me. That’s when I saw it was Papa. I found the note at the base of the tree. He left it for mother and me. He pleaded for our forgiveness. He couldn’t live with the shame of being unable to protect his daughter.’

Zena paused and wiped her eyes angrily, as if ashamed at her display of weakness. Nash put his arm round her shoulder. She leaned her head against him. ‘As soon as we could, Mother and I went to St Petersburg where she had family. She died of a heart attack when I was eleven. I was placed in a state orphanage. When I was fourteen a boy from the orphanage tried to rape me. I stuck a knife in him.’ Zena smiled a watery smile. ‘A bit like Milla, I suppose. I put him in hospital. The policeman in charge of the case was sympathetic and friendly, not dirty friendly,’ she added hastily seeing the look on Nash’s face. ‘I mean, he wasn’t trying to get into my knickers.’

Nash laughed aloud and Zena grinned. ‘I told him everything. My whole story, not just of the rape. He suggested when I grew
up I should join the police force. He said the best way to fight back was by locking criminals away, not sticking them with knives. The old order was collapsing then, so I took his advice and entered the force after I left university. I worked hard and started to do well but I couldn’t be satisfied until I’d settled matters with those monsters. Through them I lost my sister, my father and my mother.

‘I found them round the time of the Kosovo conflict when the region was in turmoil. They were selling armaments to both sides. I hijacked all three at gunpoint and made them drive to the forest. I made them dig a grave at the foot of the tree where father hanged himself. I shot the two henchmen. Then I turned to their boss. He’d already shit himself. I explained why he was going to die. He begged and pleaded for his miserable life. I enjoyed that, enjoyed it even more when he pissed his pants. I think his terror caused me more satisfaction than killing him.’

Zena paused, her eyes on Nash. ‘Didn’t you mention tea?’

‘I’ll get you it in a moment. Go on.’

‘I filled the grave in. I remember singing and laughing as I did this. Something I hadn’t done for many years.’

She saw Nash’s expression and asked, ‘How did you dream such a thing?’

‘I honestly don’t know, Zena,’ Nash replied. ‘I can’t explain it.’

‘I find it hard to grasp.’

‘I don’t understand it myself. Half the time I think I’m going round the twist.’

‘What does that mean? Going around the twist? I thought it was a dance?’

‘It means going mad. Going insane, if you prefer.’

Zena placed her hand on Nash’s and caressed it. Nash found the gesture highly erotic. He looked away. How successful he’d been at hiding his arousal, he wasn’t sure, for Zena stopped stroking him and changed the subject. ‘Where do we go from here, Mikhail? It seems you have knowledge that wraps us close together.’