‘What could be more of a priority than Napper?’ Carlyle asked, genuinely wanting to know.
‘Calvin Safi is part of a network of men around the country who we know are involved in the grooming and sexual exploitation of young girls,’ Denton explained, keeping her voice even. ‘These are primarily cases of white girls being exploited by Asian men.’
‘So you can see,’ Simpson interjected, ‘why the whole thing is so delicate.’
‘Last month,’ Denton went on, ‘three men were convicted of raping or assaulting four drunken young women in Blackburn. Another three are awaiting trial in Middlesbrough on similar offences. Last year, there was the case of seventeen-year-old Lisa Evans who was stabbed twenty-two times and thrown into a canal near Sheffield. For six years, social services had her on an “at risk” register. The man convicted of her murder admitted paying her for sex with cigarettes when she was just fourteen. And I’ve got testimony from girls as young as twelve, being sent fifty text messages a day from men pestering them for sex.’
Enough already. Feeling somewhat sick, Carlyle took a deep breath and said, ‘So men can be total bastards – tell me something I don’t know.’
‘Yes, but as Carole says, there is rather more to it than that; in all of these cases, the girls are white. And all the men are Asian.’
The inspector thought back to the kebab shop and the man with the tattoo. ‘There’s at least one white guy who hangs around the Persian Palace.’
‘All I’m saying,’ Denton persisted, ‘is that there are definitely cultural issues at play here.’
‘Cultural issues?’
‘That’s the polite way of putting it. We are tiptoeing through a minefield of race relations and political correctness here. Trying to be as anodyne about it as possible, it seems to me incontrovertible that the status of women in some social groups contributes to an environment where some men think that they can do what they like without any regards for either the law or any kind of moral standards.’
‘You know just as well as I do,’ Simpson chipped in, ‘that there is exploitation and abuse in all parts of society. However, if nothing else, there is a growing body of evidence that group grooming is a particular problem with regard to Asian men.’
‘Unlike other offenders,’ Denton said, ‘these guys don’t act on their own. And we have a growing amount of evidence that groups around the country are linked up. It’s a kind of social network for abusers. Sometimes they exchange videos; sometimes they exchange girls.’
‘Okay, okay,’ Carlyle sighed. ‘I get the message. We have to multi-task on Calvin Safi. What do you want me to do?’
‘When you find him, bring him to me first. I will only have a small window of opportunity before it becomes widely known that we have him and everyone else goes to ground. I want to see if I can use that time to bring some of those other bastards down with him.’
‘If I find him,’ Carlyle corrected her. ‘It’s not like I’m the only one looking for the little shit.’
Denton’s smile grew wider. Taking a slip of paper from the pocket of her jacket, she passed it across to him. ‘Yes, but as of right now, you are the only one who knows where he is.’
Carlyle looked at the piece of paper.
‘There’s the address. It’s accurate information – somewhere in the Midlands.’
Carlyle grunted. Arguably, having to flee to Birmingham was a rather worse fate than being sent to jail.
‘Go and collect him. Then bring him to me.’
‘Okay.’ Without asking where it had come from, the inspector shoved the address into his pocket.
‘Don’t worry,’ Denton reassured him, ‘I won’t keep him for long. I’ll make sure that Hammersmith gets him in good time, and in good order – after I’ve had the chance to speak to him.’
As he reached the third floor, Carlyle felt his mobile start to vibrate in his hand. Looking at the screen he saw the number of DI Ron Flux. ‘Not now,’ he pleaded, letting the call go to voicemail. Looking up, he could see Umar sitting at his desk across the room, bashing away at his keyboard while munching on a sandwich. Good to know you’re still alive, the inspector thought unkindly.
Engrossed in whatever was on the screen, the sergeant didn’t look up when Carlyle approached the desk.
‘You could have bloody called.’
‘Sorry?’ Finishing his email, Umar hit send, closed Outlook and looked up.
Scowling, Carlyle folded his arms as he came to a stop next to the monitor. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he demanded.
Umar arched an eyebrow. ‘Nice to see you too.’
‘I was beginning to wonder if someone had stabbed you with a knife and stuffed you in a fridge.’
‘Yuk.’ Umar placed the remains of his sandwich on a napkin lying on the desk beside the keyboard. ‘I heard about that. Poor bastard – Napper seemed like a nice bloke.’
‘A poor bastard who paid the price for going off on his own and not telling his boss what he was up to.’
‘You knew what I was up to,’ Umar protested. ‘Anyway, if it was a big deal, you could always have given me a call.’
‘I tried.’ In Carlyle’s pocket, the mobile started vibrating again. It would be his voicemail offering up Flux’s message. Ignoring it, he glanced at the sergeant’s monitor. On the screen was a page from a gossip site, featuring a story about the divorce of some celebrity he’d never heard of. Ah well, the inspector thought, at least it’s not online dating.
Umar was now bringing up another story, concerning a blind grandfather who had been tasered by a pair of police officers who mistook his white stick for a Samurai sword. He pointed at the screen. ‘Did you see this?’
‘Yeah,’ Carlyle said. ‘What a joke.’
‘I know those guys,’ Umar laughed. ‘We did our training together.’
‘It’s no wonder they’re still constables. Just as well they only had tasers. Imagine if they’d shot the bloke.’ Carlyle frowned, ‘Anyway, I thought only firearms specialists could use them.’
‘Nah,’ Umar shook his head. ‘That was before.’
‘Before what?’
‘Before they sent everyone on a training course.’
‘I didn’t get sent on a course,’ Carlyle complained.
‘Well, not everyone, but a lot of people. I went on one. It was good fun.’
‘Did you get tasered yourself?’ The inspector smiled maliciously at the thought of it. ‘To see what it was like?’
‘No chance,’ Umar scoffed. ‘No one’s going to fire fifty thousand volts at me.’
‘I always said that you were a smart boy.’
Umar ignored his boss’s sarcasm. ‘Have they caught the guy who killed Napper yet?’ he asked, finally getting back to the matter in hand.
‘Funny you should mention that,’ said Carlyle. ‘That’s what we’re off to do right now.’
Umar glanced at the remains of his sandwich. ‘We?’
‘That’s right, super-sleuth. Go get a car and meet me outside in ten minutes.’
A wicked grin crossed Umar’s face. ‘Shall we take a taser with us? We’ve got a bunch of them downstairs.’
Carlyle thought about it for a moment. ‘Up to you,’ he decided. ‘Can’t do any harm, can it? Just make sure that you don’t go using it on the wrong bloke.’
FORTY-EIGHT
Stuck in a line of slowly moving traffic, Umar peered out through the grimy windscreen, trying to work out which lane they needed.
‘Is that it?’ he asked, pointing at a large sign that simply said THE NORTH.
‘I suppose so.’ A pained expression crossed the inspector’s face. The further they edged away from Central London, the more he felt his humour drain away.
Umar squinted as they approached the sign. ‘Not very informative, is it?’