The Lost
- Автор: Бекетт Саймон
- Серия: Jonah Colley #1
- Год: 2021
- Язык: английский
- Год: Orion/Trapeze
- ISBN: 978-1-398-70690-3
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «The Lost». Краткое содержание книги:
Ten years ago, the disappearance of firearms police officer Jonah Colley’s young son almost destroyed him.
A GRUESOME DISCOVERY
A plea for help from an old friend leads Jonah to Slaughter Quay, and the discovery of four bodies. Brutally attacked and left for dead, he is the only survivor.
A SEARCH FOR THE TRUTH
Under suspicion himself, he uncovers a network of secrets and lies about the people he thought he knew — forcing him to question what really happened all those years ago...
Wilkes’s house was a 1960s semi-detached set in a small dead-end street. It was the last house forgoing the PVC doors and windows of its neighbours in favour of the timber originals, peeling paint and all. There was a thumbnail version of a garden, in which a few straggly rose bushes were being slowly choked by weeds.
Jonah walked up the short path to the front door and pressed the bell. It made a rusty crunching noise, so he rapped on the wooden door as well. There was the sound of a bolt being shot, then the door opened.
The big man was unshaven and unkempt. He wore a stained white T-shirt and had a towel draped around his neck. A sour odour of alcohol and old perspiration came from him, and the eyes above the broken-veined cheeks were yellowed and bloodshot. He peered at Jonah with hung-over resentment.
‘What do you want?’
‘I wondered if we could have a talk.’
Wilkes gave a hacking cough, sounding as though he was dislodging something wet from his lungs. ‘What about?’
‘I’ll tell you inside.’ Jonah raised the carrier bag he’d had hooked over one wrist. ‘I brought this.’
It was a bottle of Jameson’s whiskey, the brand Wilkes had been drinking in the pub. The ex-detective’s mood brightened.
‘Nice one.’ He stepped back, holding the door open. ‘Go on through.’
The house smelled of cigarettes, fried food and unwashed laundry. The carpet felt gritty underfoot as Jonah went down the dim and narrow hallway to the living room. It was dominated by an old but huge wall-mounted TV, in front of which was a well-worn leather recliner, its cushions split and flattened. On a low coffee table, a dirty plate and mug sat on scattered car magazines.
‘Take a pew,’ Wilkes called. ‘Be with you in a minute.’
The only option other than the recliner was a token armchair, which spoke volumes for the ex-detective’s social life. Jonah moved the magazines that covered its seat, looking around for a clear space before putting them on the floor. Leaning his crutches against the chair, he sat down.
Wilkes came in, wearing what looked like the same black polo neck as he’d worn at the memorial service and holding two cans of Stella.
‘We can start off on these and open the Jameson’s later,’ he said, handing one to Jonah. ‘How’d you know where I lived?’
‘You mentioned it the other night.’
Wilkes hadn’t told him the street or house number, but there was only one person by his name in that area. The recliner creaked under the big man’s weight as he lowered himself into it and cracked open the beer.
‘Cheers,’ he said, raising his can before taking a long swallow.
Jonah contented himself with a token drink. Even if he hadn’t been driving, he didn’t want to get into another drinking session, but Wilkes would take it as a slight if he abstained altogether. The big man lowered the can and stifled a belch.
‘So. What did you want to talk about?’
‘Did you know Gavin had another flat?’
He was watching the other man carefully to see how he reacted. The ex-detective frowned.
‘He what?’
‘He had a bedsit, as well as the flat in Ealing.’
Wilkes’s bewilderment seemed genuine. ‘Why would he have that?’
‘I only found out about it yesterday,’ Jonah hedged. ‘His son stole the keys and was going there to smoke dope.’
‘Yeah?’ Wilkes gave a phlegmy chuckle. ‘Sounds like his old man.’
‘So Gavin didn’t mention it?’
‘Not to me.’ He sounded unhappy about that.
‘Any idea why he might have needed two flats?’
‘If he’d still been living with his missus, I’d have said he wanted somewhere to take women back to. But he wouldn’t need that when he’d moved out. Who else knows about this place apart from you and his kid?’
‘Just his wife and the enquiry team.’ Jonah tried to nudge the questioning away from this. ‘So you can’t think of any reason why he’d have it?’
The ex-detective gave him a jaundiced look. ‘I’ve already said, haven’t I?’
Jonah let it go. Wilkes considered him over the can as he took another drink.
‘I’ve got a question for you. If you and Gav were such good buddies, how come you weren’t talking?’
‘I told you, we lost touch years ago.’
‘Bollocks. His wife said the two of you ran around like a pair of dogs, then boom. Nothing. That doesn’t happen for no reason.’
Jonah took a drink of beer, debating how much to tell him. But the ex-detective would know if he was holding back.
‘I found him in bed with my wife.’
Wilkes threw back his head and laughed. ‘Oh, fuck me! I knew it! I knew there was something!’
‘Glad you find it funny,’ Jonah said.
The big man’s shoulders were shaking. He had to put his can of beer down to wipe his eyes.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh but... oh, Christ, that’s priceless! His best mate’s wife. That’s Gav for you, never could keep it zipped. That’s what started it.’
‘Started what?’ Jonah asked, his annoyance falling away.
Wilkes drained his can and crushed it in a meaty fist. ‘Let me get another one of these and I’ll tell you.’
Her name was Eliana Salim.
She’d been smuggled into the UK from Syria with a dozen other young women, crammed inside a container of stuffed toys. Her parents had been killed in the war and her plan was to work as a nanny until she could afford to bring over her younger sister, who was living with relatives.
It didn’t happen.
‘She was a real looker,’ Wilkes said, taking a drink from his can. ‘Like a model. Good job for her, because instead of putting her in a backstreet brothel with the rest, it meant the gang who brought her over put her to work as an escort. Same job, but she got to dress up and smile at some rich bastard before she got fucked.’
Guarded night and day with three other young women, the only time she was allowed out of the small flat they shared was to work. One night while she was being driven to a private party in Mayfair, her driver was flashed by a patrol car.
‘He was carrying a knife and cocaine, so the stupid bastard panicked and put his foot down,’ Wilkes continued. ‘When he realised he couldn’t get away, he pulled onto a side street, shoved them at Salim and kicked her out of the car. Told her to make her own way back to the flat or else, and then took off. She wasn’t stupid, though, so she went to the nearest police station and asked for help. It was just bad luck for everyone it was Gav who got the call to interview her.’
By the time Gavin arrived at the station, the driver was in custody as well. He was Armenian, part of a local gang known to be involved in widespread human trafficking and prostitution. Wilkes frowned at his beer can as he remembered.
‘They were only small time, but we knew they were facilitators for a big international OCG from Eastern Europe. That’s organised crime gang,’ he added, with a glance at Jonah. ‘We’d been working with Interpol and the National Crime Agency, trying to get a handle on these bastards for years, but it was like wrestling snakes. They were fucking brutal. They didn’t just kill anyone who talked, they tortured and killed their family as well. So when Gav saw Salim sitting in an interview room, he knew it was an opportunity to get someone on the inside.’
‘As an informer, you mean?’ Jonah couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘He made her go back?’
Wilkes looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘He didn’t make her, he just said there might be a way to get her sister over here if she cooperated. And if she didn’t... well, she could be looking at months or years in a detention centre before being deported. Which, given the sort of people we were dealing with, she probably wouldn’t want.’