Screams in the Dark (15 page)

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said. ‘Anyway, this Boris Raznatovic. He’s from some village near Sarajevo and is actually a qualified doctor. But according to my pal down at Scotland Yard, he was corrupt for years, doing deals with different government bodies and organisations. Always on the make. You know what these communist countries are like – everyone equal but some more equal than others. Well, he was part of that web of corrupt officials.’

‘So he joined up when the war was looming?’

‘He got involved in this political party, the Serbian National Liberation. They were set up after Tito to try to establish a greater Serbia. It’s just the Nazis under a different name though.’

‘Exactly,’ Rosie said between mouthfuls of food. ‘In some cases the Serbs were even worse than the Nazis.’

Mickey nodded and ate his lasagne. He tore off a chunk of garlic bread and scoffed it, dabbing his mouth with his napkin.

‘So what happened to him? Did he just do a runner after the peace broke out?’

‘Looks like it,’ Mickey said. ‘My mate tells me he seemed to disappear just before the end of it. They don’t know where he went, but it’s looking like at some stage he just pretended he was a Bosnian Muslim and managed to get out of the country as a refugee. That’s how he ended up in London.’

‘But you said they
think
that’s who he is. How come they don’t know for sure? And how come it took so long
to come out? He must have been in London by the time they discovered it.’

‘I think so. There was so much confusion at the end of the war with families getting reunited and people going back to what was left of their towns and villages. So much emphasis on the peace and chasing the major war criminals who were in charge. It was only as time went on that people who had witnessed things began to tell the stories of the ordinary soldiers who were involved in the atrocities. By that time, a lot of them had gone to ground and most of them have never been caught. They could be anywhere.’

‘So did someone tip him off that they were on to him? Is that why he disappeared?’

‘I suppose so. My mate tells me it was quite an embarrassment, and it was all kept quiet. He was actually working in a hospital in London at one point. He wouldn’t have a proper practising licence, but he was there, and working as this Milosh Subacic the Bosnian Muslim refugee. So they’d make use of him as a doctor, particularly with the short staffing. And apparently he also worked as a GP locum, because there are very little proper checks done on these people.’ Mickey let out a sardonic little laugh. ‘Can you imagine that? Bad enough that he didn’t have the credentials to work in this country, but how embarrassing for the authorities that a Serbian war criminal is out visiting old ladies or children who take ill in the middle of the night.’

‘Jesus. Does nobody really make detailed checks on these things?’

‘Evidently not. Maybe he got some documents forged. Don’t know really.’

‘So what happened to him?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Nobody knows. He just disappeared and they tried to track him, but the trail went cold very quickly. Absolutely nothing. Now you suddenly come along and mention his name.’ He cocked his head to the side. ‘By the way, you haven’t told me why?’

‘I know, Mick. I haven’t.’ She looked at him pleadingly. ‘And I know you’ll bear with me on this, because you know what it’s like when you’re on an investigation. I want a chance to look into this before I can pass anything on.’

Mickey swigged from his glass. ‘No problem, sweetheart. I’m not a cop any more.’ He paused. ‘But you’d want to be careful if this guy is mixed up with the mob here and he’s up to something. You really don’t want to be around it. Some things are best left to the cops, Rosie.’

‘I know,’ Rosie sighed, ‘but not yet, Mickey. Not yet. And anyway, what exactly are
they
doing about trying to find him now? Have they just left it because the trail went cold?’

‘I don’t know, I’m still digging around. Maybe they don’t want to make a noise about hunting him down because they haven’t got a clue where he is, and they don’t want to look stupid for allowing him to disappear in the first place.’

‘Sounds credible.’

‘Okay,’ he said, lifting the empty bottle. ‘Fancy another, or will we go straight to the liqueurs, madam?’

‘Let’s get some coffee, Mickey. I might have a small brandy, but I’ve got a busy day.’ She smiled at him. ‘But hey, don’t let me hold you back.’

The waiter appeared at the table.

‘Large brandy please … And for the lady?’ Mickey looked at Rosie. ‘Two large brandies thank you.’ He gave her a mischievous grin.

CHAPTER 15

‘You do realise we could be following a delivery of Scotch pies to a supermarket in England,’ Matt said, as they crossed the border.

Rosie and Matt had been heading south on the motorway for nearly two hours, following the refrigerated van at a safe distance. It had been a spur of the moment decision, made as they watched a crate of metal containers being loaded into the truck. From their vantage point in the farm road nearby, they decided that the only way to find out where this thing was going was to follow it.

Rosie looked out at the sun streaming down onto the open fields. ‘At least we’ve got a nice day for it.’ She smiled at Matt.

‘Maybe we’ll go to Blackpool. Get a shot on the big dipper,’ said Matt, taking a swig from a bottle of Coke.

‘Great idea.’ Rosie opened a packet of crisps and offered him the bag. ‘But my gut feeling,’ she said, ‘tells me we’re doing the right thing. Let’s just see where it takes us. Remember, Jan said that Tam Logan took the stuff to
Manchester and that’s where the action was. So let’s hope that’s where we’re headed.’

‘I’m cool with that, Rosie.’ He glanced at her. ‘So tell me. You were saying you’d researched this Serbian character, this Ratzarsovic or whatever he’s called.’

‘Raznatovic.’ Rosie smiled.

She told him what she found through the internet and the newspaper cuttings she’d spent the day trawling through.

Raznatovic had been a captain in the Serb army during the early unrest after Tito died. His name was mentioned as one of the commanders in a massacre at a place called Paklenik Gorge in the north of Bosnia. Back in June 1991, at least fifty Bosnians were executed by Serb soldiers and thrown down the four hundred-foot ravine at Paklenik. The gorge was known to this day as Hell. Raznatovic’s name also cropped up during the lengthy siege of Sarajevo, and again in the massacre at Srebrenica – a name that would haunt the Balkans for generations to come. When Rosie had been over there, she had spoken to the families of people who had lost sons and fathers – marched away to be executed.

When she’d told McGuire initially about Milosh he was dumbfounded. But once she relayed what she’d found in her research, he was like a dog with a bone. He wanted to put someone in to work with her, help run the story to ground, but Rosie had convinced him that if any information leaked out it would put everyone in danger. He’d stressed that she had to be ultra-careful. She knew better than to tell him they were now following a refrigerated
van from the slaughterhouse. She was hoping McGuire didn’t phone her any time soon to tell her to pop in and see him.

‘Christ, Rosie,’ Matt said. ‘That’s amazing stuff. I hope we get to nail this bastard.’

‘You and me both.’

‘Look,’ Matt said suddenly. ‘They’re pulling into a motorway caff. We’ll go with them.’

‘Good,’ Rosie said. ‘That’ll give us a chance to have a closer look at who’s who. These places are always really busy and nobody even looks at each other.’

They parked the car far enough away from the refrigerated van, and watched as the guys jumped out and headed inside.

‘Let’s go,’ Rosie opened her door. ‘Just in case we can hear anything they say to each other.’

They sat at a table close enough to the two men, but in a busy enough area so they wouldn’t be noticed. They could hear the conversation, but it was mostly about football. When Rosie and Matt finished their coffee they went out to their car and waited for the men. When they arrived at their van, they followed them back onto the M6.

They were about thirty miles from the outskirts of Manchester when the van indicated it was leaving the motorway. Matt followed, three cars behind. They drove onto a smaller road and through a town centre that looked a little run-down, then onto the edge and past an industrial estate. A couple of miles up the road there was a sign for PD Pharmaceuticals.

Matt glanced at Rosie. ‘Game on, I’d say.’

‘You think so?’ Rosie felt a little buzz of adrenalin. ‘Tell you what though. If they go in here, then it opens up a whole new ball game, Matt. This isn’t a disused slaughterhouse in the middle of nowhere. If they’re taking what we think they’re taking in
there
, then that’s totally another story.’ Rosie was already dialling the number of the library back at the office.

‘Christ.’ Matt said. ‘They’re going in here.’

Rosie spoke to the librarian and asked her to check the name of the company to see what came up. They told her they’d phone her back in five minutes. Matt pulled the car up a little away from the entrance and they sat watching as the van approached the security barrier at the gatehouse and waited for it to be raised.

‘It’s some size of a place,’ Matt said.

Outside the plant a huge sign with the company name was on a billboard, but nothing else. No information about what they made or what went on here. That wasn’t unusual in itself, because many of these giant pharmaceutical companies made several brand-name drugs for various retail companies. The building looked like it was spread as far as the eye could see, and most of it appeared to have been built in recent years. The car park was full and, as they sat, every now and again a van with the company name would come out of the gate and head away.

Rosie’s mobile rang. ‘What kind of research?’ Rosie was asking as she took notes. ‘Right … right. When was that? … How much? … Okay. Can you stick all that into my email address so I can have a better look? Thanks, Joanne.’

‘Hurry up Rosie, I’m getting excited here,’ Matt said.

‘Okay, here’s the deal.’ Rosie flicked the pages of her notebook. ‘PD Pharmaceuticals is a multinational drug company, and they make principally heart and blood pressure pills – beta blockers, that kind of thing – for hypertension. They’re a German company, but only came here three years ago. And guess what Matt?’ Rosie gave him a look. ‘They were given a government grant to come here and create jobs. Millions of pounds they got and, even better, you remember the deposed Environment Secretary Tim Hayman? Who quit after getting his student researcher pregnant? Well, he’s only a member of the bloody board of directors. Apparently only in some advisory capacity, but I like the sound of that all right.’

‘Beauty! Me too.’

‘Other thing is, there were protests from time to time from this animal rights mob because they do tests on animals in here. The cuttings say they’ve got quite a menagerie and that’s who they test their heart pills on. Monkeys, rabbits and stuff. Library said there’s a lot of stuff on them.’

‘So what the fuck is a refrigerated van coming from that slaughterhouse in Glasgow doing here?’

Rosie shook her head. ‘Christ knows, Matt. I don’t know how we’re going to find that out. Maybe the place is so vast there’s a little corner of it they don’t know what’s happening, but I’d doubt it.’

‘You don’t think a company as big as this could be
involved in something like trading body tissue, do you? That would be just mental. Why would they do that?’

‘I don’t know. You’d think it would be crazy and you’d have to ask why they’d even get involved in it. There must be lots of scrutiny of these places by government bodies.’

‘Exactly,’ Matt said.

‘Unless there’s some rogue element involved in this and nobody at the top of the tree knows. It’s anybody’s guess.’

They watched as the barrier lifted and the van went in and headed along the road.

‘Let’s just drive around the edge of the place, see if we can get any idea where this van is going. It’s all pretty open.’

They drove around the perimeter of the plant, and they could still see the van heading for what looked like the final set of buildings, slightly away from the main body of the plant.

‘Just keep driving,’ Rosie said. ‘As far as we can go.’

They did, and when they got to what looked like the back of the plant, to their surprise the wire gates were open.

‘I think we just got lucky, Rosie.’

‘Don’t, Matt,’ Rosie said. ‘There’ll be CCTV. Someone will spot us.’

‘But look,’ he said, pointing up to the perimeter fence. ‘There’s nothing. This place is at the very edge of the plant. Maybe it’s where they keep the animals or something. It’s not like the other buildings.’

‘But it’s still part of it, Matt. If we get caught, we’re in trouble. They might get the cops.’

‘Come on, let’s take a chance. We’ll be in and out. There’s a few cars up the road a bit. Let’s park there, then maybe I can see if this van comes— Look, it’s coming.’

‘Well, okay.’ Rosie couldn’t resist it.

They drove inside the gate and parked the car about a couple of hundred yards away from the buildings where the van was now stopping. Quickly, Matt got his camera out and stuck a long lens on. He started firing off pictures as the men got out of the van. As they did, two other men came from one of the buildings. They chatted briefly with the first two, then opened the back door. They brought out the crate with the containers, and, when it was unloaded, the van men shook hands with the other two, who then disappeared into the building. The first two got back into their van and drove off.

‘Got some good shots there. It looked like several smaller containers, aluminium, and one slightly bigger one. Not a lot of stuff though to come all the way down here.’

‘No,’ Rosie said. ‘This might be a central place where they operate from and they get stuff from other areas. Jan said London and Liverpool. But the whole thing about the body-tissue market anyway is that something as simple as an elbow or an inner ear is sliced into hundreds of tiny bits and can be sold for research. You’re talking minute fragments here that are either used for research or for operations. That’s what makes it so lucrative, because you can make so much money from a relatively
small amount of tissue. I read on the internet you can get six hundred dollars for an elbow.’