Screams in the Dark Read online

  He told Rosie his initial tip-off about tissue trade had come from animal rights protestors, and at first he was sceptical. It was far-fetched to suggest that a pharmaceutical giant making legitimate drugs and involved in genetic research could also be dealing in the illegal trade in body parts and tissue. The animal rights protestors always had their own agenda, Gerhard said, but once they started working together, he believed them.

  One of the animal protestors had got a job in the plant and provided inside information. They had been looking for evidence of animals being ill-treated in experiments, but what they’d discovered was much more explosive. The company was using corpses from undertakers and material from one particular private hospital. Gerhard’s contact had managed to get into the company lab and had seen body parts cut up in small pieces, some of which, he explained, wouldn’t be identifiable without scientific investigation. So without actually stealing parts, he couldn’t prove the story if the paper had been taken to court. The chemical company’s lawyers had flatly denied the allegations, claiming the tissue was from animals. Gerhard’s exclusive was then trashed all over the German media.

  Gerhard told Rosie that even one body could rake in a fortune because almost every part could be harvested, sliced up into minute pieces, with each batch making big money in the illegal tissue trade.

  ‘It is a massive industry,’ he said. ‘For example, body skin is used in cosmetic processes like plumping up lips of models. They can charge six hundred euros a time for a shot of that. And believe it or not, ground human bone is used regularly by dentists to treat their patients. One dead body can be worth almost a hundred thousand euros once it is processed. It’s sold in ounces or in grams and it’s worth a fortune. They use everything, from tendons to heart valves, corneas for eye transplants, and even veins. Every part of a dead body is money. The people who harvest the tissue sell it on to tissue banks anywhere in the world, and they in turn make millions. It is big business.’

  ‘That’s incredible,’ Rosie said, impressed by his knowledge.

  ‘I know. I will never give up on my story because I know it is true. I still work on it, even now.’

  Rosie confided in him some of what she had found. Gerhard said if she needed help he’d be there. The company was rotten. He was now concentrating his investigation on one particular man, not German, but from Belgrade, who was on the board at PD Pharmaceuticals. He had been a boss in the smaller company that Gerhard exposed. Rosie found it breathtaking that the company would be that arrogant, but Gerhard said it was a clever double bluff by them as attack was often the best form of defence. His story had been trashed, so there could be no recriminations against anyone in the company.

  Before he hung up, he said, ‘I am building up some more information and I have been to Belgrade several times to look at this man and the background. I will help you any way I can. I’m going again soon to meet someone who can give me information.’ He gave Rosie the name of the man he was investigating and she wrote it down.

  When the call ended, Rosie checked the board of directors of the company, and sure enough, the man Gerhard had named – Goran Boskovac – was there.

  Rosie’s next phone call was to Adrian. They had only spoken on two or three occasions since he fled Spain last year in the midst of the shoot-out. He listened to her story and she gave him the names of Raznatovic and Boskovac. He would get back to her. Rosie knew it was in good hands. She told him she might go to Belgrade, and he said he would look after her.

  *

  By seven in the evening, Rosie and Matt were sitting at the the farm road, far enough away from the slaughterhouse, but close enough to see that there were no cars in the car park. They had Emir with them, the whole thing a rush-of-blood-to-the-head decision.

  ‘If McGuire finds out what we’re doing,’ Rosie said to Matt, ‘he’ll hit the roof.’

  ‘I know, but we’ll not tell him till it’s nearly in the paper.’ Matt fiddled with camera lenses, sticking them into the pockets of his safari waistcoat.

  Rosie had decided to go back because they’d be giving Emir up to the cops in the next couple of days. This would be the last chance they had of getting anywhere near the slaughterhouse for the kind of pictures they wanted. They’d gone to Rosie’s flat and talked it over with Emir, promising that they wouldn’t venture anywhere near the place unless they were sure it was empty. Rosie knew it was as reckless a decision as she’d ever made, and as the three of them sat, watching the sun slip lower into the fields in the distance, her stomach was churning.

  ‘You okay, Emir?’ Rosie turned her body around to face Emir in the back seat of Matt’s sports car. He nodded. In the three days he’d been staying at Rosie’s flat, he looked a different man from the hungry, terrified creature she’d encountered.

  ‘I want to help get these people,’ Emir said, clutching the iron bar he’d told Rosie he would need to force their way in. ‘For what they did to my friend.’

  ‘Then let’s go,’ Matt said. He opened his door.

  ‘Be careful, Matt, for Christ’s sake,’ Rosie said. ‘In and out. As quick as you can.’

  ‘Don’t worry Rosie. I don’t want to hang around in there in case I end up on one of their slabs.’

  ‘Right. Keep your mobile on. Any problems this end, I’ll phone, and if I do it means there’s trouble and I’m on my way down – and you’ve to get out of there smartish.’

  ‘Come on, Emir. Let’s go,’ Matt said, opening the back door.

  Rosie watched as they disappeared down the slope towards the gate. She could see Emir working on the wire fence towards the back of the building, and then they were inside the car park. She sat, chewing her fingernails as they went behind the building and out of sight. Her mobile rang and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  ‘Hey, Scoop. You still got your boyfriend staying with you?’ It was TJ.

  Rosie quickly composed herself.

  ‘Hi TJ. Yeah. Just for another day or two.’ She hoped she didn’t sound as nervy as she felt.

  ‘Where are you?’ TJ said.

  ‘Oh, just out on a bit of a stake-out. Listen, I can’t really talk, TJ. I’ll call you in a bit.’

  ‘Okay, Rosie. Why not come over, and leave that poor Kosovan boy on his own for the night? You must have him worn out.’

  ‘Aye, right,’ Rosie snorted. ‘I’ll call you in an hour or so.’

  ‘Okay, sweetheart,’ TJ said. ‘You’re obviously up to something. I can hear the stress in your voice.’

  ‘Yeah … I’ll call you.’ She hung up, but, as she put the phone back in her pocket, she suddenly saw a car heading down the path towards the slaughterhouse.

  ‘Oh shit!’ She quickly grabbed the phone and pressed the speed dial for Matt, her heart thumping in her chest.

  ‘Quick, Matt, someone’s coming. They’ll be at the gate in about forty seconds. I’m on my way.’

  ‘Oh fuck!’ he said, hanging up.

  Rosie switched on the engine. She watched as the car stopped at the gate, where one of the men in it got out and opened the padlock, then dragged the gate open wide enough for the car to get through – but neglected to close it. As the men disappeared into the building, she stepped on the accelerator and sped down the path towards the gate.

  There was no sign of Matt when she got to the gate.

  ‘Oh shit, Matt. Where are you …’ Rosie muttered through gritted teeth, her hands trembling on the steering wheel. She tried to take a deep breath, but it wouldn’t come. Then suddenly there was a loud bang from inside the building. Gunshot.

  ‘Oh fuck, oh Christ! No!’ she said.

  Then another shot. Rosie felt her whole body shudder. Then suddenly Matt and Emir appeared from the back of the building, sprinting towards the gate. She sped into the car park, sending dust clouds as she spun the car around to face the way out. Emir threw himself into the back seat and Matt jumped into the front. Rosie raced out of the gate as they closed the car doors.

  ‘Fuck me!
’ Matt tried to catch his breath. ‘Get your foot to the floor, Rosie. These bastards were shooting at us!’

  From the corner of her eye, Rosie could see Matt was white as a sheet. She glanced at Emir, panting in the back seat. Then she saw the car behind them.

  ‘Jesus, Matt. They’re coming after us.’

  ‘Just keep driving, Rosie. Get the boot down. They’ll never catch us in this.’

  ‘God, Matt. I was shitting myself out here. I thought you guys were a goner.’ Rosie sped over a bump and everyone jumped. She kept on driving, taking the hairpin bends like a racing driver, bouncing off the verge and trying desperately to control the car.

  ‘Mind the suspension, darlin’. I’m still paying up this shaggin’ wagon.’ Matt grinned.

  Rosie glanced in the rear-view mirror. The car was well behind them, and they were heading towards the main road that would take them onto the motorway in a few minutes.

  ‘That’s us, Rosie, we’re nearly there.’ He slapped her thigh. ‘Christ. You can drive a bit – for a mere woman.’

  ‘Nothing concentrates the mind like panic.’ Rosie felt a surge of relief as they hit the main road. ‘I’m just going to hammer it until we’re into the city.’

  Matt turned around to look at the back window. ‘They’re nowhere. They were driving a poxy wee Peugot or something. No match for my beast.’

  Rosie glanced in the back. ‘You all right Emir?’

  ‘Yes, Rosie. Now I am ok.’

  They drove in silence until Rosie was on the motorway.

  ‘So. How did it go?’ Rosie shot a glance at Matt. ‘Any good?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Matt said. ‘And how!’

  Rosie’s mobile rang, and she could see from the corner of her eye it was Don.

  ‘Hey, Don.’

  ‘Rosie. Don’t know if you know, but there was a guy found dead up in Kelvingrove Park this morning. Turns out he was strangled. You’ll never guess who he is.’

  ‘Don,’ Rosie said. ‘I’m driving. Don’t keep me in suspense, man. Who is it?’

  ‘Some Russian guy called Josef. We traced him to the address of that Tanya bird who worked at Murphy Paton.’

  ‘God almighty!’ Rosie jerked the car into the slow lane as horns honked behind her. ‘You absolutely certain?’

  ‘Well. Short of him admitting it, we are. But we can’t find his bird yet. Apparently she moved out.’

  Rosie didn’t answer.

  ‘Are you there?’ Don said.

  ‘Don. The phone’s cutting out. I’ll talk to you later.’

  Rosie immediately rang McGuire’s private number.

  ‘Mick, it’s me. Remember the guy Josef – you know the boyfriend of Tanya I told you about? That’s who the body was in the park this morning. He was strangled.’

  ‘Fuck me!’ McGuire said.

  CHAPTER 22

  Rosie waited until she saw Frank Paton come out of his office, then she followed him at a distance until he went into the wine bar at the top of the street. She waited in a doorway on the opposite side, deciding to give him enough time to sink at least one drink. Hopefully by then he just might be more approachable. But she wasn’t banking on it.

  Earlier in the morning, she’d gone to the office first thing, bracing herself to reveal to McGuire what they’d found at the slaughterhouse.

  ‘I know by the look on your face, Gilmour, that this is going to give me an ulcer,’ he said, folding his arms as he sat behind his desk.

  ‘There’s no easy way to tell you this, Mick,’ Rosie said. ‘But we went to the slaughterhouse last night. Early evening, while it was still light.’

  ‘You should have told me,’ he said calmly.

  ‘I know, but I figured, before we give Emir over to the cops and they start getting all over it, that we should try to get a look at it.’

  McGuire rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. ‘Don’t tell me you broke in there, Rosie.’

  Rosie shifted on her feet and said nothing.

  ‘Fuck me, Rosie! What in the name of Christ did you think you were doing? Did you not hear anything I said the other day?’

  ‘Mick,’ Rosie interrupted. ‘Listen. It’s not as if they’re going to phone the cops if they’d found out is it?’

  ‘No. They wouldn’t call the cops. They’d just bloody put a bullet in you. It looks like they’ve just bumped off Tanya’s man, so these guys don’t mess about. Are you completely out of your tree?’

  Rosie put her hands up to stop him.

  ‘Listen, Mick, please. Listen. Just forget how we did it. What’s really important is what Matt got.’ She paused. ‘He took a picture of a human finger. Christ, Mick. There was all sorts of stuff just dumped in a bin. Something that looked like a bit of a brain.’

  McGuire looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fucking hell. Where are these pictures? Let me see them?’

  ‘Matt’s about to ping them over to you any minute.’

  McGuire dialled the picture editor’s number. ‘Pete. Get in here quick.’ McGuire turned to his screen.

  The picture editor came in and he told him to sit down, then relayed what Rosie had just told him.

  ‘You’re fucking joking,’ he said.

  ‘Here they are.’ McGuire scanned his screen.

  Pete went behind the desk with Rosie and they looked over McGuire’s shoulder. As the pictures began to feed through, Rosie talked them through the images which she’d already seen on Matt’s camera. The first few snaps he’d taken were just general views inside the slaughterhouse, and it didn’t look any different from a butcher’s back-shop or a restaurant kitchen. Most of the long steel benches and worktops were empty. But he’d managed to take pictures of glass containers with what looked like bits of flesh or bone inside them. There had been several containers of varying sizes, filled with some kind of liquid they’d guessed could be some sort of preservative. Matt had said he only got a couple of minutes to look at them, and couldn’t make out what was inside, but there were enough of them there to convince him that it had to be something crucial to whatever it was they were doing. Some of them looked like gristle or muscle. Others had spongy flesh in them, but they were cut into such tiny pieces it was hard to say what they were, or had originally been. It was only when Emir took him to a room at the very back of the building that Matt knew he’d hit the jackpot. Inside two ordinary household bins were pieces of bone and flesh that were clearly human remains. He’d kicked the bin over, and photographed the contents that scattered onto the floor. Among them was part of a human finger. And to his horror, pieces of what looked like brain.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ McGuire zoomed in on the shots. ‘I cannot believe what I’m seeing. It is a finger! Christ almighty! What the fu—?’ He turned to Rosie. ‘Sit down, Gilmour. We need to work out where we go with this. But we’re going to have to move on it quickly. Especially with this Josef murder. And now that you’ve been in there and they know someone’s been rummaging around the place, you can bet their little operation is all going to go tits up – if you’ll pardon the pun.’

  The picture editor burst out laughing.

  Rosie sat down, and the decision was made to start putting the heat on Frank Paton. Then they’d hand over Emir to the cops – but they wouldn’t tell them everything they had. Not yet.

  *

  Rosie looked at her watch. Paton had already been in the bar fifteen minutes, so she crossed the road and braced herself for the showdown.

  The wine bar was dark when she walked in out of the glare of the midday sun, and at first she couldn’t see him. There were only two men at the bar, and one at the wall-seating close to the door, reading a newspaper. As Rosie walked towards the bar, she glimpsed Paton in the far corner, sitting alone with a copy of the Post in front of him. But he wasn’t reading it. He sat staring straight ahead, and Rosie watched as he swirled the ice around in the whisky glass, then took a swig and
winced. Whatever he was drinking it must be strong. She ordered a soda water and paid the barmaid, who immediately sat down and went back to her magazine. Rosie went over to Paton and stood in front of him.

  ‘Frank …?’ She knew he would recognise her from years of dipping in and out of the courts, even though they’d never actually met.

  In the dim light, Rosie couldn’t see if his face had drained of colour, but she’d definitely caught him off guard.

  ‘Rosie Gilmour? The Post?’ Paton gave her an enquiring glance.

  ‘Yeah.’ Rosie said, thinking that he feigned the surprised-to-see-you-here look quite well. But not well enough. She waded in.

  ‘I was trying to get you last night. About your cleaner’s boyfriend, Josef, being found dead.’

  He looked at her then at his drink.

  ‘I’d also like to talk to you about refugees, Frank. Asylum seekers.’

  ‘If you don’t mind, Rosie, can you not see that I’m out having a bit of a break?’ He lifted his drink. You can make an appointment with my secretary. I’ll try to fit you in.’

  Rosie saw his jaw tighten.

  ‘Well,’ Rosie sat down. ‘You see, Frank, I think it’s best not to talk in the office. That’s why I came here.’ She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. ‘Frank. I want to talk to you about refugees going missing … And I’m not talking about vanishing into the black economy, the story that was in the Post the other day.’ She paused for effect. ‘I’m talking GOING MISSING, Frank,’ she emphasised, fixing him with her eyes. ‘I think you know what I’m saying here.’

  Beads of sweat formed on Frank’s top lip, and he swallowed nervously. Rosie could almost hear his heart beat. She watched as he tried to look bewildered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know, Frank.’ Rosie took out the list of names. ‘Here’s a few names for starters, Frank.’ She read out three names and addresses, glancing up to see his trembling hand come up and flick the sweat from his lip.

  ‘Stop,’ he said. ‘What the fuck’s going on here? These are clients of mine. Where did you get their names?’