Page 94 of The Killer’s Mark

‘Nope. It’s more than that.’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘Is this a test?’

‘You have me over a barrel, Poe, but I’m still a police officer. If I’m going to share information with a civilian, I need to know he plays at the right level.’

Poe softened towards Gilliard a bit. He was pompous, he’d messed up trying to run surveillance on them, but it looked as though he was trying to do the right thing. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘It’s more than that because from what you’ve told me, the Red Chamber aren’t breaking any laws. I don’t know the intricacies of the prostitution laws in all those other countries, but the exchange of sexual services for money is not illegal in England, Scotland and Wales. And it doesn’t seem like the girls are trafficked. They’re hand-picked, highly trained and well compensated, but above all else, they enter this arrangement voluntarily. They aren’t dragooned. I could understand your involvement if turf wars were spilling onto the streets, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.’

‘But?’

‘But at least one person has died because of my investigation. Truth be told, it’s almost certainly two people. Mark Buckby had arranged for me to meet a contact of his. That contact didn’t turn up for the meeting and Buckby was tortured. You don’t need to be Dixon of Dock Green to work out that he was tortured for the name of his contact.’

Silence.

Esmerée broke it. ‘Who the hell is Dixon of Dock Green?’ she said.

‘It’s an old cop show,’ Poe said. ‘I used to watch it with my dad. PC Dixon started each episode by saying, “Evening, all.”’

‘He sounds like an—’

‘Asshole,’ Poe, Gilliard and Susan said together.

Chapter 77

‘You’re right about Mark Buckby’s contact, Poe,’ Gilliard said. ‘The man you were supposed to meet was called Frank O’Rourke. A few hours after you’d found Buckby’s mutilated corpse, Mr O’Rourke’s body was discovered in a wheelie bin in Edmonton. He’d been shot five times in the head.’

‘They torture him too?’ Poe asked.

‘No, they just made sure he was dead.’

Poe thought about it. Gang-related murders were very much in the purview of Organised Crime Command, but these ones were recent. Gilliard and Susan and the rest of the unit had been on the Red Chamber for years. That meant these weren’t the first bodies the triads had dropped.

‘Why are they murdering to protect a legitimate business?’ he said. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

‘Everything we’ve told you is true, Poe,’ Susan said. ‘The Red Chamber girls are volunteers. They are above the age of consent. None of them have been trafficked. And everything you’ve told us tracks with what we knew – up to a point, the Red Chamber’s business model is entirely legal.’

‘“Up to a point” – what does that mean?’

‘You’re an ex-detective, Poe. An exceptional one, according to DCI Flynn. And although you haven’t dealt with the triads before, you have dealt with organised crime. What part of the Red Chamber’s business model doesn’t sit right with you?’

‘They’re goddam pimps and their women are whores!’ Esmerée growled.

Poe put his hand on her arm. She was vibrating with anger. He understood it, but he needed space to think. Because Susan was right. Part of the Red Chamber’s business model didn’t sit right with him. If Xiang and Chao, the guys from the Szechuan Palace, hadn’t been spitballing, the men purchasing a Red Chamber concubine paid upwards of a million dollars a year in fees. They’d said that half went to the women, payable on completion of their contract, and the rest went to the Red Chamber. A fifty-fifty split. Except it wasn’t. Not really. Chao had said that the Red Chamber might have to hand over twenty-five per cent of their earnings. And like any business, they had costs. They might not be VAT- or NI-registered, but they had overheads. Their men needed wages. The training courses the women attended wouldn’t be free. A hundred other things.

On the face of it, the Red Chamber concubines made more money out of the twenty-year contract than the triads did. A lot more. How would that sit with them? He thought about it, but not for long.

He looked at Gilliard and said, ‘They kill the women, don’t they?’

Gilliard held his gaze. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because the Red Chamber are triads, and triads are ruthless criminals. They won’t voluntarily give up ten million dollars, or whatever the woman’s supposed share adds up to. Not when they could keep it all. They might even have it in a fund for her, something she can check but not access. Something that at least looks tangible. But when her contract is up and she asks for her money …’ He ran a finger across his throat. ‘Because if it’s a choice between letting her walk away with a fortune and keeping it all for themselves, well, to people like that, that’s no choice at all.’

‘But why kill her?’ Gilliard asked. ‘Why take that risk?’

‘Because their business model relies on a steady flow of young women. Women who believe a twenty-year commitment will set them up for life. If they stole their money, it’d get out. The women would rightly be furious, and even with the credible threats a bunch of sadistic triads can make, they’d talk. And if word got out that the Red Chamber were ripping off their women, their business would be over.’ Poe shook his head. ‘Far better that the women disappear. They can spin some story about how they gave them new identities or helped them buy a Caribbean island. Some bullshit that helps sell the scheme to the next generation of women they’re recruiting.’ He paused. Added, ‘How did I do?’

Gilliard said nothing.