Beautiful Death by Fiona McIntosh Read Free Book Online Page B

voice.
    ‘I needed to get back in the saddle somewhere after Operation Danube. Sharpe thought the Directorate of Professional Standards would be agood place to start. Geoff agreed. To be honest I’ve enjoyed it.’
    ‘But now Sharpe wants you back in his camp,’ she said.
    ‘It’s a major operation. Are you sure you want in?’
    ‘You know I do.’
    ‘Then stop being such a bloody hardarse.’
    He was right. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just . . . ’
    ‘No need to explain. Just arrive tomorrow knowing it’s going to be a hard slog. We’ve got absolutely nothing to go on but the pressure’s on from the top to get this done before it turns into a circus.’
    She nodded, more contrite now. ‘Who else is on the team?’
    ‘I’m calling in Cam and Sarah and a few of the younger guys, like Dermot, who did a good job on Danube. A few others, probably someone with an Indian background would be helpful.’
    ‘I guess I’ll learn why soon enough.’
    ‘See you tomorrow, Kate. By the way, have you ever used anyone from NRPSI?’
    ‘A few times, why?’
    ‘We need someone really good, really reliable who’s fluent in Urdu and possibly Gujarati.’
    ‘I’ll ask around.’
    ‘Okay, let me know. Talk later.’
    For a moment she stared wistfully at the phone, then snapped herself out of her thoughts. It was time to pack up her desk and see her boss, make sure it was all in order for her to depart Lewisham for Westminster and the opportunity to work alongside the man she was infatuated with. She also made some enquiries about interpreters, and came up with someone she felt would suit Jack’s needs. Ratherthan call him, she texted him the details. This operation, she promised herself, she would be utterly professional.
    Namzul stood in the shadows opposite facing Stamford Hill station. About 100 metres away he saw Gluck lean towards a young woman and whisper something to her. They both laughed, then entered a nearby shop. Prostitution had been a major problem in this area for a decade, but the Amhurst Park Action Group, made up of local residents, had made some inroads into cleaning up this part of Hackney, especially as it was a main conduit into and out of the more fashionable Hertfordshire. Namzul knew the clean-up didn’t mean the girls had gone away; they simply became more cunning, their pimps less obtrusive. These days the girls were mainly Eastern European; probably most of them were slaves, kept working on a diet of fear and drugs.
    This was the second time he’d met Gluck at Amhurst Park and it was now obvious to him that Moshe made use of the prostitutes who prowled the area, even though he was sure Moshe would claim he ran a legitimate office above the shops on Amhurst Parade. The realisation came as a surprise, but now that he considered it, he didn’t know why it should. Moshe liked to act all pious and be seen as the dedicated family man, but he clearly had needs that were not being met at home.
    Namzul waited and soon enough the girl emerged from the store, a small paper bag in her hand, and strolled on long pencil-thin legs back towards the station. She was pretty in a hollow-cheeked, haunted way; dark, not overly made up and dressed in jeans tucked into stiletto boots and acropped leather jacket that accentuated her lean body and height. Her hazelnut-coloured hair curled and moved gently in the breeze around the thick scarf she had wrapped around her neck. She looked cold but he was convinced she would not be fazed by a British winter, unlike him. He still craved the warmth of a Bangladeshi spring, despite it being fifteen years since he last experienced the sultry heat of his homeland. Namzul eased further back into the shadows as the girl looked towards him. She didn’t see him but she was certainly looking in his direction, no doubt scanning for someone she could fit in before Moshe, perhaps. He tried to sneer, but knew deep down he was envious. He struggled to find the courage to approach a woman