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  "Do you mean some kind of human trafficking? Sex slavery?" Séamus asked.

  The policeman shook his head. "Not that we know of, interestingly enough. None of the cases we've found involve evidence of coercion. In fact, all of the girls on file are retired from the work at their own choice. They seem to have been paid well and said they left the work when they chose to leave. That's what is making the case so difficult."

  "How about Ryan McMahon – is he one of Grant's men, too?" Séamus asked.

  The detective looked surprised. "How do you know that?"

  "He's a suspect of ours for different reasons. But can you think why Allsop would want to break in?"

  "Well, there are rumors about four Asian women at your facility. Someone got the idea that they're convicts themselves, perhaps for prostitution. We even wondered ourselves if they're somehow connected with some government crack-down on prostitution syndicates. My boss was getting quite annoyed, I can tell you. Way too often we're kept in the dark about some London initiative."

  Séamus grinned with irony. "You can understand that with the kind of leaks and rumors that go on here, can't you? I mean, four Asian call-girls? I doubt that Asia is your problem round here – more like Eastern Europe, don't you think?" Séamus leaned forward across the desk. "I shouldn't really tell you anything, likewise. But I will do so because you're helping me, and I appreciate it. Yes, there are four Asian girls, but they are expert hackers. In fact they've come across from the dark side. They're helping us block all those cyber-attacks from China."

  The detective nodded slowly. "But I hear they're pretty good-looking young girls, especially a couple of them. Sure they're the best hackers?" The word was intended to contrast with hookers.

  "Detective, you're a big, handsome hunk of a man, but does that mean you can't do your job well?"

  The man laughed. "Get your Asian hackers to tell me the same thing, then you and I will be in business. Now, anything else I can do for you?"

  "This Kevin Grant. Where does he live? I may want to introduce myself."

  "Several homes, but he spends more of his time not far from the facility. You'll see him occasionally in the White Hart. I suggest you make any meeting very casual, so that would seem to be the best place." The detective paused. "Be careful of him. He's a tough character."

  Séamus nodded. "How tough?"

  "One of our youngest and bravest war heroes. The stories about his action are pretty scary. Seems he always volunteered for the worst stuff. Yet he was violently opposed to the last war. Shall we say, he has his own code of justice and always speaks his mind. I get the impression pretty much everyone respects him and not a few people fear him. A born leader. If civilization were to collapse, the Grants of this world would end up running the show."

  "Point taken. If civilization collapses, I'm going to invite him over to the facility for a tour."

  As he drove back, Séamus faced the fact that he could not delay his arrangement with McMahon beyond that week. More delay would anyway start to make his inquiry suspicious. And to disarm the Grant factor, it was necessary to get himself up to his neck in the man's dirty business. Given how critical his mission was, he could not fault his boss's logic. By making himself personally vulnerable to Grant and his entourage, he was giving the clearest signal that the call-girl ring had nothing to worry about at the facility. Given the attempted break-in, that message had to be communicated with urgency. Grant had no doubt used Allsop as a quick test of security. If he had been caught, he could claim he was drunk and had taken a short-cut through the facility. He could even say he himself had seen something suspicious and tried to investigate. The local police would have let him off with a caution. The next time, if Grant wanted the girls kidnapped, he would achieve it with ruthless efficiency. Séamus texted McMahon and said he was ready. Within the hour he had an appointment for Wednesday night.

  7. Framed

  Séamus was given an address in the high street of a small local town. It was an apartment above an antique store, accessed by steep, narrow steps in a building at least a couple of hundred years old. He had been given a time of 10 pm and had sat in his car in a nearby car-park until five minutes before. The high street was deserted, which was a relief to him – he hated the idea of anyone seeing him walk up those stairs. It was a normal, black-painted door and he rang its bell. The door opened and a young, blonde woman showed her face. "Séamus?" she asked. He nodded and she showed him in, leading him up another staircase to a converted attic-room at the top of the building. She was wearing a pink dressing-gown and seemed to have an attractive figure.

  "Welcome to my home, Séamus," she said in an East-European accent as they entered the room. "Give me your coat."

  Séamus handed her his overcoat and she gestured for him also to remove his sports coat. The small room was very warm, with an old-fashioned electric heater. There was a comfortable-looking bed and older pinewood furniture. An attic window apparently overlooked the high street.

  "Would you like a drink? Beer, wine, maybe a whiskey?"

  "No – uh, well, perhaps a small whiskey." Séamus knew he sounded nervous and, despite an instinctive refusal, realized he needed a shot of something. She poured two glasses, added water to one until he said when, then the same amount to the other.

  "Cheers!" she said with a helpful smile, and they both downed about half. "I'm Petra, but I think you know that." She stared at his face and ran a hand down the front of his shirt. "You're good-looking boy, Séamus. You have wife, girlfriend?"

  He shrugged. "Girlfriend, but she stayed in London when my job brought me up here."

  "Foolish girl. She should follow her handsome man." She watched him down the rest of his whiskey. "You want more drink?" He shook his head. "OK, Darling, I give you a shower, OK?"

  "I had one just before I came out," he replied quickly.

  Petra ran her hands over his shoulders. "I'm sure you did, Baby. I'm sure you're a very clean boy. But you understand I have my procedure, isn't it? Wash down every customer. Just like hospital. Safety first!" She unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. "Oh, lovely chest hair! So manly! You good shape too, Séamus."

  If you were looking for compliments, he thought, find a girl like Petra. Her next step was to untie her dressing-gown. First she opened it and smiled, revealing a large cup-size to a thin and decorative bra. Her stomach was flat and she appeared to be wearing thong-like underwear. "Looks good to you, Séamus?" she asked, her hand stroking his chin.

  "Beautiful," he told her, and watched as she threw the gown on the bed. Still staring and smiling at him, she unhooked her bra and removed it. They were perhaps the finest he had ever been free to touch. She then stepped out of her underwear to stand naked in front of him, rising like a ballerina on the balls of her feet and rotating in front of him. Everything looked firm. She then gave a small jiggle of a dance and laughed at herself.

  "I can be crazy girl, Séamus!" She brought her chest against his. "You're very nice boy, I think. Please be gentle on Petra. She's very warm and loving to good gentlemen." Looking up at his face, she unhooked his belt and disrobed his lower half. As she helped him step out of his jeans, she said, "Oh, Séamus, it is big and handsome! Good shape, not like ugly one I so many see. You have circumference, it is very good thing, I think."

  "I think you mean circumcision," he said. But then, maybe she liked a good circumference, he thought. What male knew the average circumference?

  "Oh, yes of course! You are American or Jewish?" She asked conversationally.

  "No, Irish and Roman Catholic."

  "Really? I also Catholic! Aren't you hating the Confession?"

  Petra led him into her tiny bathroom where she had little more than a sprinkler on a hose, and focused mainly on his private parts. It felt partly erotic, and partly a little clinical. She tried to keep it as sensual as she could, and her touch felt caring. She washed herself briefly, dried them both down and led him to the bed. There she began running her hands over hi
s body, occasionally kissing a part. When he looked ready for her, she lay down herself and began rolling him on top of her. He paused a moment, and she got the message that he wanted to ask something.

  "OK, Baby, tell me what you want. Let's have fun!"

  He steeled himself. He had never before discussed the specifics of sex. "I'd like you to give me oral sex, if that's OK."

  "Of course, Séamus Baby." She started to move down on him, but he stopped her.

  "With condom…"

  "Not worry," Petra told him. "According to World Health Organization, bare-back blow-job is okay-safe." She winked. "Just make small noise so I know you will be coming, isn't it?"

  Damn, he thought. "No Petra, it's me who's more comfortable with a condom. I have some if you want to use mine."

  Petra hesitated then shrugged. "You are paying the piper, isn't it?" Then she laughed at the aptness of her metaphor and pretended to play a pipe with her hands. She reached into a bedside table, pulled out a condom and proceeded to unroll it on him. He could see he was losing a little steam, but her oral work was highly effective. It continued for about half a minute, then she stopped. She looked at him with a frown. "Why you want this, not boom-boom?"

  He wondered if his request was suspicious. "Oh, I like the feel of it. You're very good."

  "Well Séamus, if I will be honest, I do not like rubber taste much in condom, and it makes me quite hard at work." She gestured to her neck, as if it was giving her pain. "Honey, we do boom-boom instead, isn't it? I make you specially feel good, I will promise. I am excited now on you." She climbed slowly up his body and got into a position where full intercourse was just an inch or so away.

  She had created a dilemma for him. He had assumed she would prefer just to suck on a rubber condom, and would look past his rather limited request. Now not only was it clear that she found it odd (particularly because he was not savings any money this way) but she actually preferred the idea of full sexual intercourse. If he insisted she go back to the oral sex, it seemed likely she would tell her boss about her strange customer. But if he agreed to the full sex, how could he face Sheryl? What right did he have even to feel upset about her dating? He had convinced himself that protected oral sex was sufficiently unexciting that it was barely infidelity. Maybe even that was shameful self-deception. No matter how clinically safe the activity, he could not deny physical enjoyment. Should he feel repulsed by any paid sex? Now he had just to say and do nothing to find himself inside Petra. She actually preferred it to tasting rubber! This could be no pretense, because who was there to pretend to? Under the right circumstances, did this girl actually enjoy her work?

  Before he could reach any firm conclusion, he heard the sound of a doorbell ringing – the same one he had rung. Petra looked genuinely startled. "Could be any you know?" she asked him. He shook his head, wondering the same about her but knowing it was pointless to ask. She went quickly to the window, still naked but protected by its height, and looked into the street. "Police," she said quietly. "Bastards!"

  Séamus fought a sense of panic. So he must have been set up, probably by McMahon. It seemed like his whole plan was now going to backfire horribly. He watched Petra pull on a nightdress and then her dressing gown. He had the impression that she was not unprepared for this event. She came up close to him and spoke with urgency. "Look, Séamus My Dear, what anything goes, you don't say at all, OK? You use right to remain silent. I will do best to clear it. Trust about me, please? This is the fire drill. We are ready at it, not worry."

  She gave him a grim smile and touched his cheek. Could he actually trust this girl? The bell rang again and she left the room, trotting down the stairs while calling "All right, all right!" He heard the door open and a male voice, mentioning a search warrant. While the idea of such a warrant seemed wholly excessive under the circumstances, Séamus did not find it surprising. This set-up was designed to be water-tight. He hurried to get his clothes on while he could hear Petra politely asking the legal meaning of a search warrant, obviously stalling for time. When ready, Séamus came down to the door.

  "Are you looking for me, Officer?" he asked.

  The policeman said that, if the two of them would come with him to the station, there would be no need at this time to search further. He took them to the same station Séamus had visited a few days earlier. They were taken into separate rooms, and a young, plain-clothed officer entered the one Séamus waited in.

  After explaining to him his rights, the officer said, "Let me tell you what's happening. We got a tip-off from a very good authority that the lady whose apartment we found you in has been trafficked here from Eastern Europe. If you were paying for sex from this lady, and had even the slightest suspicion she'd been trafficked, that could put you in very serious trouble. It would really help your case if you chose to cooperate with us." There was a silence. "You understand what I'm saying?" Séamus nodded. "What were you doing there?"

  "Right now," Séamus replied, "To the best of my knowledge, I don't think that is any of your business."

  The young man nodded. "You didn't notice her East European accent?"

  "I've noticed your Yorkshire accent. To be honest, to my ears, it sounds like more of a crime than an East European accent. Please don't take that personally."

  The young officer smirked. "Look, if you've got nothing to hide, why don't we just chat this through? Just give me your innocent explanation. Then you can go home."

  "You wouldn't have a cup of tea, would you?" Séamus asked.

  "Sure. Sugar?" Séamus nodded and the officer left and returned with two plastic cups. As Séamus sipped his tea, he was asked again to explain his presence at Petra's.

  "If you think that's the price of a cup of tea, I'm sorry to disappoint," Séamus replied. "But you can try breakfast in the morning. Are there any cots here?"

  The man shook his head and left the room. He returned after about twenty minutes. "You're free to go. An officer will take you back to your car – or the young lady's place, whichever you prefer." He struggled with the next part. "We do apologize for inconveniencing you, Sir, but we have reason to believe that human trafficking is going on in this region."

  Séamus felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief, but carefully hid it. "I hope you catch the bad guys," he said and patted the young officer's arm. As he got into the police car, Petra smiled at him.

  "They treat you OK, Honey?" she asked.

  "Tea was too weak, but the people are friendly enough." They kept silent the rest of the journey. When they were dropped off, Petra invited him in again. She poured generous glasses of whiskey and they sat on the bed.

  "So you're here legally?" Séamus asked.

  "Of course, Dear. And you are legal in my room, too. I tell them we meet tonight in King's Arms and we got on each other very well. I'm lonely girl, long way to old home."

  "What if they check with the regulars in the King's Arms?"

  "Then there is alibi two men. But not they bother. You see, I have here very good job. Why should I be call-girl? "'

  "This regular job. Who's your boss?"

  "I work at Farm Breeding Center. It has many business with Europe and I speak German. The Center is by Mr Grant. You know him?"

  "I've heard of him." Séamus drained his glass. "Thanks for the drink, Petra."

  She looked surprised. "You not go now, isn't it? We did not start doing it."

  "After that experience, I kind of lost my libido," he told her. It was not far from the truth. "Don't worry. I think you did an amazing job tonight, should anyone ask me."

  Petra came close to him. "I understand, Baby. But you get credit at next time, isn't it? I can speak of my half, and I sure Ryan agrees plus other half. I am so sorry interrupt us those police bastards. If I can find snitch on this one, I take knife…" She ran a straight finger across his chest.

  I doubt that, if the snitch is McMahon, he thought. But that didn't make much sense – unless he wanted to test the system. Who else knew? Only
his boss…

  He tried to put the whole episode out of his mind. After briefly reporting on his experience with only the essential details, he put himself to sleep with more whiskey that night. The next morning he found no comment from his boss and gratefully focused on his other duties. It was not until close to lunchtime that he got a call from reception that a reporter from the local Herald was waiting there for him. He walked down the lobby with a sense of foreboding.

  "Mr FitzGerald, I'm Sam Jackson from the Herald," the man began as they met in the waiting area. "I understand you had the most terrible experience with the police last night. Could I have a little of your time to check my facts and also get your opinion?"

  "Oh, there's nothing newsworthy, I can assure you," Séamus said quickly. "Just a simple mistake. The police have to follow up on leads they are given. Some lead to convictions and some are dead-ends. I'm fine giving up an hour or so of my time to help the police with their inquiries."

  The reporter did not look convinced. "That's very magnanimous of you, Sir, but I think if it had happened to me, I'd be outraged. And a young woman had a search warrant taken out against her, based on nothing more than an anonymous tip-off. Don't you think the magistrate exceeded his powers here? Soon, we'll be having our homes searched because of some neighbor with a grudge."

  Though Séamus heartily agreed with the reporter's sentiments, the idea of this becoming a news item filled him with dread. He sat the man down in the waiting area and looked at him earnestly.

  "Did the young lady make a complaint?" he asked.

  "No, but that's really not the point, is it? I mean, she may be afraid of the police now."

  "I think she may be more afraid of her reputation, and any story could be a serious blow to that," Séamus argued. "You probably know already we just met last night. The fact that she had a right to invite me to her apartment doesn't mean she wants to expose that fact to the world. Moreover, the government doesn't exactly want publicity surrounding my stay here." He lowered his voice. "Look, I'd very much appreciate it if you could bury this one. In return, next week I will give you something much better. I have a lot of good contacts and there's always something they want leaked through the press. No problem making it your turn!"