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Wazir nodded. ‘Samir Karam Raseem,’ he said when he had composed himself. ‘He came from Syria. Aleppo. He believed his family were still alive, in Damascus. Maybe they have fled now to Turkey.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. The men who brought him here said they knew where his family was and would kill them if he tried to escape or did not do what he was told. They said this to me also.’
‘Thank you for identifying him,’ said Shona quietly. ‘We will try to trace his family and ensure he has a proper burial.’ She set the cold tea aside and poured out a fresh cup of water, encouraging him to sip it. ‘Imran, may I call you Imran?’ She waited for the nod. ‘A short time ago, Sami tried to end his own life. I was there at the bridge when he tried to jump into the river. He was helped by a man called Tony Kirkwood, who works at a charity in the town. Do you know him?’
Imran twitched his head in a way that said maybe he did, but he was undecided on whether to commit himself.
‘Tony wanted Sami to go to the police, but Sami was afraid of the people that had trafficked him in to Scotland,’ Shona continued. ‘What sort of work was Sami doing to pay back the gang?’
At this, Imran’s face creased in anguish and Shona thought he might cry again. After a moment, he bit his lip and said quietly, ‘It is best you know what sort of people you chase. Sami was paying off his debt with children. That’s why he tried to kill himself.’
Next to her, Shona felt Dan shift uncomfortably in his seat and rub his forehead as if trying to erase the mental images that had sprung up. She took a breath and pressed on. ‘What do you mean, Imran? What did Sami do with the children?’
‘I was working in a warehouse, moving boxes. But Sami, he deliver children like they were boxes. He did not know what happened to them. He thought people use them for bad things. That’s what made him sick, here…’ he touched his finger to his head, ‘…and here.’ Imran pressed his hand to his heart. ‘That is why we took the baby milk.’
‘For the children?’ said Shona, puzzled. The thought that this gang was trafficking babies for whatever purpose made her stomach tighten further.
But Imran shook his head. ‘No. We take the milk to make money, to get away. Sami meet this girl and she tell him we could sell it online and make enough to escape. We could pay the traffickers, go and find our families.’
‘So, what happened?’ Dan asked.
Imran looked at him for a moment. ‘You were kind to me when you did not need to be. Gave me water.’ He made a thumbs-up sign, recalling their journey from Carlisle. ‘So, I will tell you.’ Imran leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His eyes became hard. ‘The traffickers found out. They beat us and sell us to a new boss. He say, it’s okay. Keep taking the baby milk. It’s a good business, I look after you, give you new cars. Just pay me a little of what you earn. Sami handled the money. The girl, her name Ella, she help him. We hoped to take, maybe two thousand tins from all over Scotland and England. It was easy to walk in and out like a family. We would sell them with Ella’s help on eBay. Make enough for everyone.’
‘What went wrong?’ Dan said.
‘We sell them for less. Ella? I did not trust her. She a whore and took drugs. One day, she just vanish,’ Imran said bitterly. ‘The boss took what money was left and say we need to pay more. We are trapped like fish in a net that is smaller and smaller. We are squeezed so we owe him the breath in our mouths.’ He shook his head.
Shona had watched Imran as he told his story. She saw the emotions flit across his face like cloud shadows across the surface of the sea. Hope, cunning, triumph. The grey bitterness of betrayal and defeat. As he spoke, an idea, caught on the breeze, floated before her eyes. Finally, it zig-zagged down, coming to rest like an autumn leaf landing on the water.
‘This girl, Ella,’ she said into the silence. ‘What did she look like?’
Imran shrugged. ‘Small, like you, but blonde. Always the short clothes.’ Shona took out her phone and scrol
led through. She turned the screen to Imran. He glanced quickly at it then turned away and nodded. ‘That is her,’ he said with a look of disgust. ‘That is Ella. I hope you find her.’
‘We have found her, Imran. Her name is Isla. Isla Corr. She’s dead,’ Shona said. ‘She died about six weeks ago.’
‘Yes, Ella, that is her name. She is dead? Then I am sorry for her family,’ he said solemnly.
‘I think whoever killed Sami killed Isla too,’ Shona said.
‘They will kill me now for sure,’ he said, resigned.
‘No,’ said Shona. ‘I meant what I said, we can protect you, but you must tell me all you know. Who was the boss who took the money?’
‘I never knew his name. He just the boss.’ Imran brushed his face with his hand. ‘His face was thin. He had good clothes and a black car.’
‘Did you meet anyone else? Any of Isla’s friends?’
He nodded slowly. ‘There was a man of business. He help her sell herself for drugs.’
‘You mean her pimp? Do you know his name?’
‘Jay, I think his name was Jay.’
Shona pulled up another photograph on her phone and showed it to Imran, who nodded. ‘Yes, that is him.’
She tilted the phone to show Dan. On the screen was the arrest photograph of Jamie Buckland. ‘Okay, Imran. Thank you. Let’s take a break. Now, I want you to think very carefully about a solicitor.’ She held up her hand when he began to protest. ‘You have been very helpful, and I will do as I promised, but a legal representative can assist you in other ways. Please think about it.’
Shona and Dan watched a custody officer walk Wazir along the corridor to a cell.
