Becky watched him. His large soulful eyes were full of sadness. He bowed his head and twirled his glass in his hands. His black hair fell over his eyes. She knew talking about it had upset him. She knew he had told her more than he had probably wanted to, and she knew he had been completely honest. She felt a wave of affection for him—he had shared something difficult and precious with her. He was much more honest than Alex, who was devious by nature. How different the two men were. She looked at Mann and thought it would be chilling to be on the wrong end of his wrath, but it would be wonderful to be loved by a man who would face death for you. She waited until he raised his head before she looked into his eyes and held his gaze.

‘Sometimes you forget why you are with someone and stay for fear of being alone. You don’t have that. I admire that in a way.’

They stared at one another, both aware that they had shared something personal and that now they were no longer work colleagues, they were friends. Becky smiled, a little embarrassed by the fact that they seemed to have moved physically closer during the conversation. Their hands were almost touching. To the relief of them both, the waiter arrived with their food and the closeness was broken.

Becky set about unrolling her napkin and searching for the mustard on the condiment tray.

‘We are checking seat numbers on the plane and passenger lists to see who escorted the trafficked women in,’ she said. Mann’s hand hovered over the tray until it came to rest above the mustard. She nodded and he handed it to her. ‘It will take time to work through everyone. Something else—the house was registered as belonging to a man named Brandon Smith. Guess where he lives?’

‘Angeles?’

‘Good guess.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Ex-military. Honourable discharge, served fifteen years in the marines. Came out, didn’t work much in the next two years. He did a couple of short stints as a bouncer, a security guard. He moved around a lot. He has a record—assault charges in various forms, none of which got him put inside. Mainly drunken and disorderly stuff. He has been living in the Philippines for the last two years.’

‘So he didn’t adjust to life in Civvy Street. Not the kind of man who could afford a property after two years of squandering his pension. Someone else must have put up the money and he agreed to let his name be used. Silly boy. Has he been contacted?’

‘Still trying. The local police are not the most conscientious bunch.’

‘The records show that some of the women have left children back home. I don’t know what would willingly make them leave their families. How can it be worth it?’

‘Poverty makes people do desperate things. It’s become the norm for Filipinas to work in another country to support their own back home. There’s a whole generation of Filipino children growing up without their mothers, who are working overseas to try and give them a better life. The children are looked after by their grandmothers, also being supported by the one overseas. But, I agree. I think, given the choice, those children would rather grow up with a mother and no money.’

‘CK knows who has his daughter. He’s hitting them where it hurts. Are you a fast packer?’

‘What? You don’t think he’s been straight with us? And what do you mean fast packer?’

‘He’s definitely not been straight with us. I am going back to pursue it in Hong Kong. Your boss says you have to come too.’

‘What?’ she beamed.

‘He agrees that we can do more good by chasing the source of all this. I am bringing my colleague Shrimp over to stay this end and liaise with us. He will be on the same wavelength as me, plus he’s been working on this new society for some time—he knows more than anyone about them…Becky?’

She was already on her feet and halfway out of the pub door. He shouted after her:

‘I guess I’ll see you at the airport then.’

26

Becky got back to the flat in a great mood. She couldn’t believe she was flying out the next day—by lunchtime she would be on the way to Hong Kong. And then she remembered she hated flying—shit! The thought of it made her stomach go weak. She was going to have to block it out of her mind till the last minute and she was going to have to have a few drinks to get to sleep tonight. But, hopefully, Alex would be in the mood…

She dialled his number again—it went straight to answer phone. She didn’t look at the clock but she knew it was late. She knew if she glanced that way and saw what time it was that she would instantly feel tired, feel regret. She had to get up at six. She must get to the office by seven and get sorted for her trip. She took another drink and switched the music up a little louder. She looked at her reflection in the kitchen window, moving her hips slowly and sensually. She liked the way she moved in the silk slip and the way the candlelight caught the folds of the fabric. She liked the way it felt against her skin. She ran her fingers down her cleavage—

not bad—

the push-up bra had worked. It fascinated her to see that she had a sexy body. She didn’t make this kind of an effort to show it off very often. Mann was right. She did look nice.

She sighed, stopped dancing, and took another gulp of her wine

‘

Cheers,’ she said to her reflection.

‘

Here’s to ten

fucking

years

of

fucking

marriage.’ She lost her balance slightly and banged her hip on the side of the worktop.

Should have stayed in the pub with Johnny.

Becky giggled drunkenly. ‘Now that would have been a lot more fun,’ she said out loud.

She stopped.

Bugger! What the hell was she thinking getting so pissed? Now she was even talking to herself

She put the glass down on the kitchen worktop and went upstairs to the bathroom to study herself in the mirror. She stared hard at her face—her eye makeup was heavy, smudged, her eyes looked bloodshot and her face was ashen. She took a deep breath, sighed and turned away.

Not quite as sexy or appealing as I thought

,

then!

She checked her watch: twelve twenty-five. She fumbled in the bathroom drawer and found the paracetamol, swallowed two and drank two glasses of water. She felt the pain in the top of her nose and her eyes began to water.

Not when she was pissed as well…why

the hell did she have to cry now?

She was only crying because she was pissed. She never did it normally. She didn’t dare look into the mirror. She held on to the sink and looked back through the open bathroom door down towards the kitchen. The music was still playing.

Bastard…why did he always do it to her?

She looked into the mirror.

So fucking stupid—stop crying—your eyes will be puffy tomorrow and everyone will know.

A sob broke the silence. It was a horrible guttural sound. Becky hated the sound of it, What was she getting in such a state about? She didn’t know why it hurt tonight more than any other. It didn’t just hurt it make her fucking angry. She took a deep breath and splashed water on her face. He was working late. He was ambitious. She had known he was when she married him, she said to herself as she furiously brushed her teeth. She’d also known he didn’t want kids, but she’d thought he would change his mind about that. It had begun to irritate her when he called her ‘baby’. She wasn’t a baby; she was a grown woman who should have her own baby by now. But she certainly didn’t want a child with someone who didn’t want one with her. After years of badgering him she had finally realised he was never going to change his mind, so now she had her career and Alex had his, and they saw even less of each other. She couldn’t say she hadn’t seen it coming. But here she was on their tenth wedding anniversary, getting pissed in her best frock, on her own. She looked at her reflection and shook her head sadly. Yep—definitely should have stayed in the pub with Johnny. Her smile briefly returned, then she heard the sound of a key in the front door.