Felicity Young - Take Out

Rodika took a calming breath and nodded her fluffy head.

‘Were you intimate with Jon Pavel?’

‘Intimate?’ Rodika paused as if pondering the word. ‘Oh, you mean sex? Yes I had sex with him, many times,’ she said, looking down absently and pulling at her strappy top.

‘Did his wife know?’

Rodika shrugged, as if the matter was irrelevant.

‘Did you have sex with Ralph Hardegan too?’

‘They partners, they share,’ she said, still attempting to cover some cleavage.

‘Did you like Ralph as much as Jon?’

‘Lady, like don’t matter—they both arseholes. But Ralph was more, how I say, stingy. He always want something for nothing.’

‘But Jon paid you well?’

‘And give me good job. I help in his office.’

‘What about Mr Marius, do you sleep with him too?’

The woman put her hands on her hips, and looked at the concrete floor of the stairwell as if contemplating spitting on it—by the looks of the slippery surface, many already had. ‘He try, but I no have him. Maybe if he was partner I have him.’

‘He wanted to be a partner though, didn’t he?’

Rodika made talking motions with both hands. ‘Always go on and on, very jealous of Ralph I think—but you don’t tell him I say that right?’

‘Jealous enough to want to kill him?’

She shook her head vehemently. ‘No, Marius is a big fat coward. He would trick you, yes, but he would not kill you.’

‘Did you ever go to Thailand with Jon and Ralph?’

Rodika’s mouth turned down. ‘No, there plenty other young girls in Thailand. I have holiday when they away.’ Then her demeanour changed, as if everything she’d said and the way she had said it, had just been a tease. She clapped her dishcloth between her hands and stretched her mouth into a wide smile. ‘Now I need go back to work.’

Stevie placed her hand on the woman’s arm. ‘Just one more thing; I’ve only ever seen one picture of Jon, and it wasn’t very clear. Did he have any distinguishing features—special marks? Is there anything else important about him that you forgot to tell the police before?’

Rodika gave the matter some thought. ‘He wore big thick gold chain and matching bracelet, also big ring. I told them that.’

It figured. ‘Would you recognise the jewellery if we found it?’

‘Yeah, I think so.’

‘Anything else you can tell us about him?’

She didn’t answer straight off. Stevie waited. After some lip chewing Rodika said, ‘I always think there was something funny on his hand. He had had funny marks here.’ She pointed to the web of skin between her thumb and forefinger.’

‘What kind of marks—tattoos?’

‘Yes, tattoos I think, like little tiny dots in little tiny colours. You can hardly see them.’

This reminded Stevie of something she’d seen or read of recently, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She became aware of her heart pulsing above the thump of the music and knew that whatever it was, it was important.

‘Thank you Rodika, you’ve been very helpful.’

While Stevie had been interviewing Rodika, Fowler had been talking to the younger bar staff. Stevie met up with him on the street outside the restaurant while staff inside cleared tables and vacuumed. The restaurant had closed for the night but people still entered and exited the club through the side door.

Fowler hadn’t got anything of interest from the barmen, but like Stevie he had his suspicions about the manager. ‘We need to bring Marius into the station for a formal interview,’ he said. ‘Get both his and that Rodika woman’s prints. He’s hiding something, I’m sure of it.’

‘He’s also shit-scared, and so is the woman. That place is slippery with sleaze. I feel like I need a shower.’ They left the noise of the club and coffee district behind them and headed down the almost deserted street. ‘According to Rodika, Marius was jealous of Hardegan,’ Stevie said. ‘We saw it for ourselves in the office. Marius was very put out that Pavel chose to team up with Hardegan and not him. Rodika said he was hoping to make partner himself.’

‘But it makes sense for Pavel and Hardegan to pool their resources. What does Marius think he could bring to the equation? Could he be behind all this, wants to get his hands on the business?’

‘Pavel and Hardegan have made quite a gravy train for themselves. Money, girls...’ Stevie stopped mid-sentence and came to a halt under a streetlight.

‘What is it?’ Fowler asked.

‘According to Rodika, Pavel had a discreet tattoo, here.’ Under the light she pointed to the web of her hand. ‘It was made up of a series of coloured dots.’

‘Doesn’t ring any bells.’

‘Fresh produce ... Thailand, girls...’ Stevie thought aloud. ‘Monty’s been doing research on human trafficking for the CCC—I recently read something he’d written about the east European crime gangs.’ She rubbed her eyes as she tried to think clearly, the lateness of the hour beginning to take its toll. ‘They have tattoos like the Asian gang members, only much more subtle. You’d have to be a gang member to recognise them—often just a dot on the skin.’

‘As soon as I hear mention of these kinds of gangs, I think of that shipment of illegals found dead in the container at the Dover docks. Horrible.’ Fowler paused. ‘You think Hardegan and Pavel were in the skin trade?’

‘Rodika’s certainly not one of the vestal virgins, and I’m sure Marius takes his share of anything he can get.’ Stevie pulled at her ponytail. ‘But I reckon this might be more than straightforward prostitution—they’re old hands. Ralph and Marius wouldn’t be this scared if that was all they were up to.’

They continued their journey in near darkness to Fowler’s car, possible scenarios jostling for space in Stevie’s tired mind. The busker had gone home long ago. A salty breeze played with a discarded newspaper in the middle of the road until a hotted-up Holden growled past and squashed it flat.

‘Remember when I got locked in the Pavel’s upstairs room?’ Stevie said.

‘I won’t forget that in a hurry. Of all the stupid, interfering—’

‘Shut up and listen to me, Fowler! The room was decked out like a dormitory—no, make that a prison cell, completely self-contained with no inside doorhandle and locked safety-glass windows. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t like that because they were redecorating.’

They continued to head down the pavement, both thinking this through. Finally Fowler said, ‘People held as prisoners? You’re right, it does sound a lot more than prostitution.’

‘While it’s unlikely that Pavel would’ve been using his own place as a brothel, it could easily have been used as a halfway house for girls imported illegally into the sex industry.’

‘I didn’t think there was much of that kind of thing going on over here.’

‘That’s Monty’s argument. People seem to think it’s an Eastern States phenomenon, that it isn’t relevant to us in the west. Over here the problem tends to be more of smuggling people for illegal labour or immigration than for human trafficking. That’s why the trafficking that does happen doesn’t get the attention it should—because no one expects it.’

‘I don’t know much about this kind of thing, never had any experience with it,’ Fowler said.

A rare admittance of ignorance, Stevie guessed.

‘So what’s the difference between people smuggling and human trafficking?’ Fowler said.

There were no lights down this end of the street. They didn’t realise they’d reached Fowler’s WRX until they almost stumbled into it. Fowler unlocked the door with a beep of his key and leaned on the frame from the footpath, without getting in, waiting for Stevie’s answer. Light seeped from his car, illuminating one side of his face while the other side was cloaked in the shadow of the narrow alley.