‘Are the girls always kept locked up?’ Stevie asked.

‘Not necessarily,’ Col said. ‘Often psychological control and threats to harm loved ones are enough. The more difficult girls are forcibly hooked on drugs and controlled that way.’

‘Pavel had a prison-like room at the top of his house,’ said Stevie.

Col nodded. ‘Pavel had all the necessary skills and experience and was obviously ready and eager to oblige in any way he could. Perhaps he found life in Perth too dreary and missed the action, could be he just needed the money. He was put in touch with a couple who ran the WA side of the operation, a mother and son team.’

Monty raised his eyebrows. ‘You never mentioned them before.’

‘We don’t know much about them. The woman was originally called Jennifer Granger. She was the daughter of an Australian diplomat who worked at our embassy in Bangkok. She was snatched as a thirteen-year-old when she was out shopping at the local markets with one of the embassy maids.’

‘I think I remember reading about it—early seventies, right?’ Monty asked.

‘Correct. There was a huge furore, an international search, but she never resurfaced and was presumed dead. Years later she was identified through fingerprints as the Mamasan of a Thai brothel where a large stash of heroin was found. By then she was a powerful underworld identity. She escaped prosecution by bribing and threatening the arresting officers. Like Pavel she got hold of false papers and sought sanctuary in Australia. She came into the country under the name of Marion Godwin, though she’d have changed it since. As in Bangkok, her fingerprints were lifted from a Kings Cross brothel during a drug bust a couple of years back. No one the police questioned at the time admitted to having seen or known anything about an Australian Mamasan. She slipped away again and is believed to be in Perth.’

‘How old would Granger be now?’ Stevie asked, already doing the maths.

‘Fifty-one—I have a graphic artist working on it. The last photo we have is of her as a thirteen-year-old, just before she was snatched. The artist is putting together a picture using a computer program that’ll give us an idea of how she might have aged. It might take some time though—we have to dig up photos of her parents too and merge them with the last known photos of her as a child.’

Stevie glanced at Monty. Like her, he was probably dwelling on the hell the parents went through.

Col must have read it in their faces. ‘Jennifer’s parents split up a year after she went missing, both blaming the other for what happened. The father eventually committed suicide and the mother died of natural causes about five years ago in Sydney. We think Jennifer was back in Australia by then, though she never made contact with her mother. She is now believed to be an important player in the people-trafficking syndicate that recruited Pavel. Like many groups of this type they have other interests too...’

‘The big four: guns, girls, gambling and ganja,’ Monty said.

‘Not heroin?’ Stevie said.

‘The works; ganja just makes for better alliteration.’

Stevie flicked her eyes toward the ceiling.

‘But despite her various makeovers,’ Col continued, ‘Granger was getting too well known in Thailand to travel backwards and forwards, so she employed Pavel to go on her shopping trips for her.’

‘And once Pavel was established within the organisation, he recruited Ralph Hardegan?’ Stevie asked.

‘That’s what it looks like. Through their businesses they got to know each other. I guess Pavel must have figured Hardegan as a like-minded kind of guy.’

‘A sociopath.’

‘Could be. With their newly formed partnership, they had all the reason in the world to make frequent business trips to Thailand and procure girls for Australian brothels.’

‘“Fresh’n’Tasty,”’ Monty said, dryly.

‘What about Granger’s son?’ Stevie asked. ‘What do we have on him?’

‘He’s Eurasian, goes by the name of The Crow, but we don’t know much about him.’ Col paused, ran his tongue over his lips. ‘Other than that he enjoys burning people alive.’

Monty shifted in his bed and reached for Stevie’s hand. ‘Nice guy.’

‘We suspect the pair are probably running some kind of legitimate business in the Perth area, lying low and reaping the rewards while others do the dirty work for them,’ Col said.

Monty thought for a moment. ‘The Crow, as in “blackbirder?”’ he asked Col.

‘Top of the form, Mont.’

Stevie raised a questioning eyebrow.

‘It’s what the old-time slavers used to be called,’ Monty explained, shifting further up his pillows, but still clinging tightly to her hand. ‘Now, they call ’em snakeheads.’

Stevie knew the term. She turned to Col. ‘And you think this mother and son team murdered the Pavels as well as Ralph Hardegan?’

Col paused for thought. ‘Jon Pavel’s body still hasn’t been found, has it?’

Stevie shook her head.

‘He’s probably copped it too, then. If those two guys were trying to pull a swifty over Mamasan and The Crow, I doubt they’d get away with their lives, they were taken out I reckon. You should hear some of the stories about them from Bangkok. Mamasan is utterly ruthless, and as for her son, well...’

Stevie looked from one to the other of the men. Col seemed to be waiting for some kind of reaction from her. Monty fiddled with a button on his pyjama jacket. His silence suggested he was trying to think up a tactful way of saying something she might not want to hear.

‘So, that’s my warning?’ she said after a pause. ‘You think this Jennifer Granger might have been behind our attempted murder?’

Col nodded. ‘Quite possibly.’

‘Stevie, I want you to stay at your mother’s tonight,’ Monty said.

The gentle tone didn’t work. Stevie felt herself flush with irritation. ‘Oh come off it. I just happened to be with Fowler at the wrong place at the wrong time. Most of the investigating officers don’t even know of my involvement in the case, not to mention the possible offenders—not once have I given my name to anyone I’ve spoken to.’

Monty’s voice rose. ‘Stevie, it’s not only about you. There’s Izzy’s safety too—’

The beep of the monitor cut off his words, the squiggly green line jumping into a frenzy of jagged movement. Monty groaned and collapsed back onto his pillows.

Stevie’s heart almost stopped too. She jumped to her feet and shook Monty by the shoulder, crying desperately, ‘Monty, what is it, what’s the matter?’

‘Christ, where’s the nurse?’ Col yelled.

It was over within a few seconds, the heart monitor once more showing a regular pattern of beats by the time the nurse rushed into the room.

‘Is the machine playing up again, Mr McGuire?’ the nurse asked.

Monty casually opened one eye. ‘Guess it must be.’ (Image 20.1)

Image 20.1

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The evening was damp and breezy. Stevie buttoned up her denim jacket and trudged toward her car at the farthest end of the hospital carpark, towards the railway track. Considering how packed the carparks were, there were surprisingly few people about. The lights of the hospital dimmed as she left them behind, the occasional street lamp impotent in the grainy light of dusk. Several years ago a series of attacks on hospital staff had prompted increased security patrols, but she’d seen no sign of them so far this evening.

As she walked, she thought back to the conversation with Col and Monty. Col thought that the Pavels had been the victims of some kind of gangland revenge killing, something to do with their involvement in a people-trafficking racket. It seemed her suspicions about an internal power struggle had been close, but on a much larger scale than any she had imagined.