‘Looking at. Don’t know for sure.’
‘You’re being extremely guarded today, Jimmy. Is someone listening in?’
Bliss raised his eyebrows. ‘Isn’t that a good question these days? But let’s assume not. No, I’m with Pen, but she can’t overhear. The fact is, we’re working hard to prevent Cambridge taking this back off us. The crime scene is on their patch and there’s a DI Kennedy champing at the bit, waiting to snatch this case out of my hands. I can tell you this much: ERSOU are liaising because the victim is an escort and therefore possibly trafficked. So, yes, there’s a potential organised crime connection, as you suggested. If our investigation leads us to conclude that she was killed by a punter, it goes to Kennedy. If it has anything to do with her employers, we get to keep it.’
‘And your money is on…?’
‘Too soon to call. I suspect it will stay with us, but I should know much more by this time tomorrow.’
‘Does that mean “Get off the phone, Sandra, and wind your neck in”?’
He laughed. ‘You can read me like a book.’
‘Which reminds me. Have you given any thought to our previous discussion?’
He winced at his careless remark, having not intended to encourage her further. He liked the fact that they were on friendly terms again, but he did not enjoy being backed into a corner. ‘I have. I’ll let you know for sure as soon as I’ve made up my mind. But I have to tell you that I’m leaning more towards the consultancy angle.’
‘Okay. If that’s what you prefer. I’ll give you some more time to think about it. In the meantime, I’ll get back to you later today to see if there have been any developments in the case.’
‘Don’t waste your breath,’ Bliss told her, realising as soon as he had said it that he had wasted his own. Bannister could sense something brewing, and she was not about to let it go.
He and Chandler said goodbye to PC Stevens and started heading back towards the Ford Focus. Their route forced them to climb a steep rise, eventually working their way through knee-high grass as they skirted the chalky surfaces below. The largest pit, to the east, had not been quarried in almost forty years. At almost thirteen hectares, the site had long been established as a Site of Special Scientific Interest, and therefore protected land for conservation.
‘It’s quite something,’ Chandler said, casting her gaze out over the desolate-looking scrubland.
Bliss grunted. ‘I think you’d probably need to be a botanist or a rambler to truly appreciate the beauty of the place. To tell you the truth, it doesn’t hold a great deal of interest for me.’
‘Except for your maple tree. Don’t forget that.’
He stopped walking and turned to look back the way they had come. Peering through some dense gorse, he was still able to see it. From this angle it did not stand out at all, but he would take away with him the first sight of it. There appeared to be no legend attached to the tree, but in that moment Bliss had felt its presence deep inside and knew he would find it difficult to let go of the memory.
Eleven
The news from Glen Ashton and ERSOU was good. Their facial recognition software had thrown up three potential identities, one with a 98% probability rating. He quickly explained that after he’d forwarded the original photograph to his office in Bedford, it was scanned and enhanced at the same time. The software transformed the image into digital data by applying an algorithm, and the data was subsequently compared with records previously captured in its database. The fact that the system had spat out more than one result told them it wasn’t infallible, but he was confident they had their girl.
Unlike Bliss, who continued to rely on whiteboards, markers and hard copy, Ashton had commandeered the e-board and brought up the NCA photo on the screen via his phone, courtesy of a Bluetooth connection. He arranged the NCA image alongside an official crime scene photograph. Satisfied, he turned to the group.
‘They’re the same,’ he said proudly. ‘We have the victim in our system.’
Bliss studied each image in turn. He struggled to tell the two faces apart, but the clincher was a small mole above the left eyebrow that could be seen clearly in both photos. He exchanged nods with Chandler and Bishop. ‘So who is she?’
For a moment, Ashton looked as if somebody had stuck a pin in him to let the air out of his lungs. He moved from a state of pure elation to one of dejection in the blink of an eye. Hands resting on his hips, he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, but we don’t have an answer to that.’
‘What?’ Bishop unfolded his arms and drew himself upright from the desk he’d been perched on. It was like watching a flower bloom in super-fast motion. ‘You have her in your system but you don’t have a name for her? How’s that even possible?’
‘Oh, no. We do have an ID. Larmina Nuri is the name she gave us, only it’s not her real one. Let me fill you in. She was never brought in or questioned as a suspect, only interviewed as a witness. Evidently, our investigators suspected her but didn’t have nearly enough on her at the time. They eventually managed to speak to her in connection with an escort ring for especially young girls, and we secured surveillance photos of her at the time. But she was in our hands for less than an hour, half of which was spent going through the motions. At that point, a rather expensive solicitor arrived on her behalf, and we were unable to detain her further. Our investigation continued, which is how we discovered that the name and contact details she provided us with were false.’
‘So after all that we’re no further ahead than we were before,’ Chandler
