Danger , livre ebook

The Conrad Press - Robin Nye

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

300 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

'Danger' is a riveting, fast-paced thriller that ranges from the leafy countryside of Kent to the windswept shores of the Black Sea and to the dramatic coastline of Cornwall. At its heart, 'Danger' is a compelling story depicting the hopelessness, desolation and suffering of those caught up in people-trafficking across Europe.A guest goes missing from a five-star country hotel, sparking an investigation which leads DI Sarah Hunter and DS Ted Selitto of Kent Police to the discovery that young girls are being trafficked from Eastern Europe to the UK for exploitation in the sex industry. As the body count rises, Hunter and Selitto find themselves caught up in a ferocious war between gangs of ruthless traffickers, each vying for supremacy in this sordid world. But will Hunter and Selitto be able to identify the mastermind who controls the UK operation before he can be silenced forever?

Sujets

Thriller

Informations

Publié par	The Conrad Press
Date de parution	08 août 2020
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9781839780929
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Danger
Robin Nye

Danger
Published by The Conrad Press in the United Kingdom 2020
Tel: +44(0)1227 472 874 www.theconradpress.com   info@theconradpress.com
ISBN 978-1-839780-92-9
Copyright © Robin Nye, 2020
The moral right of Robin Nye to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
Typesetting and Cover Design by: Charlotte Mouncey, www.bookstyle.co.uk
The Conrad Press logo was designed by Maria Priestley.

For Barbara

1
Tuesday 18 July
T he path was rutted where muddy earth, squelched by hundreds of walkers in spring rainstorms, had become baked in the unusually hot summer weather.
Bushes and other woodland vegetation had grown uncontrolled since his last visit to this part of the estate so that he faced some potentially unpleasant hazards – a trip and a fall or a slap across the face from an unseen branch. Brambles were also growing out of control and their long tentacles pricked at his bare arms, occasionally succeeding in drawing pinpoints of blood. Stinging nettles waved serenely in what little breeze there was – just waiting for the faintest of touches to make life uncomfortable for unsuspecting victims.
Negotiating all these hazards, the man hurried on. He could see the water now and it wasn’t long before the path dropped down to the edge of a lake which stretched out before him. He stopped to take in the scene on this hot summer afternoon. Staring off into the distance, he never failed to be surprised to see a lighthouse standing sentry-like in the middle of the lake. The building rose majestically towards the skies, its white walls showing signs of age and the ravages of the weather. The lamps had been removed a long time ago, and birds perched on the guard rail of the gallery which ran around the circumference of the boarded-up lantern room. They would have had an excellent view of the surrounding vegetation, the larger species perhaps lining up their next foray into the water below.
His mind flashed back to the last time he was here. With only the faintest glimpses of the moon on an otherwise cloudy night, he had piloted the dinghy across the lake carrying its cargo – a zipped up black bag attached to four 25kg weights. Water had lapped over the sides of the dinghy and pooled around his feet. He had great difficulty mooring the small craft to the short wooden jetty which poked out from the entrance to the lighthouse, many of its timbers rotten with age. He had, however, eventually succeeded in getting a rope attached to one of the mooring points on the jetty, and then managed to get the bag over the side of the dinghy but not before he had almost gone into the water himself. The thought of drowning had always terrified him as a life-long non-swimmer.
Now he pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind as he negotiated the path round to the head of the lake where he rested on the wall overlooking a small weir, the water from the lake cascading down to a stream below. The stillness of the isolated location, the heat of the sun and the gentle sound of the water had a soporific effect on the man as he surveyed the scene of his darkest deeds. He stared at the sheer beauty of the woodland setting, trying to draw strength from his surroundings to help him overcome the severe misgivings he had about what he would be doing later tonight when he returned to this spot.
His reverie was rudely interrupted by the alarm on his phone which he had set to give himself time to get back to the hotel, have a shower, order room service, and be ready to greet his visitor for their 8.00 p.m. meeting. He continued around the top of the lake and then gingerly made his way back down the south bank which he found even harder going as the vegetation was very overgrown on the pathway.
Drawing level with the lighthouse once again, he stepped gingerly down to the lake’s edge. Here, the dense undergrowth stretched out on to the water and provided an ideal shelter for the little dinghy. Even up close, it was difficult to make out the shape of the vessel, and he was satisfied that no one could have stumbled upon it.
Leaving the lake behind him, he climbed back up to the top path and trudged on towards the hotel. Negotiating a wooden stile and a kissing gate, he then followed a drystone wall up to the hotel’s effluent plant. Although the stench was not quite as bad as when he was last here, he still reached for his handkerchief and held it over his nose until he reached the car park at the front of the hotel. He ascended the weather-worn stone steps which led into the grand hallway and closed the door quietly behind him. He then took the stairs two at a time on the way to his room, and hoped that he had managed to avoid being seen by anyone. However, the words “Good evening, sir!” meant that he had not been able to keep under the radar of one eagle-eyed receptionist.
Turning the key in the lock and pushing the door inwards, he encountered a wall of heat. The room was stifling hot. He went across to open the ancient windows in a vain attempt to attract even the very faintest zephyr of cooling air. He should have closed the curtains before venturing out but never even thought of it at the time. A bottle of sparkling water sitting on the small coffee table beckoned him over, and he drank greedily until its contents had all but been drained.
He called up reception and ordered a light snack and a couple more bottles of cold sparkling water. He also asked for a full bucket of ice. After taking a quick shower, he threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and waited for room service to arrive. As he relaxed, he cast his mind back to the last time he was in this room. Although the layout and décor were the same, he thought how different the circumstances had been. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He stood up and went across the room to open it.

2
One Year earlier
T he sun shone brightly out of an azure blue sky. It looked a great day for a bicycle ride. Her parents had gone to work. Her two brothers were away at army camp. Her sister was staying with a friend in Plovdiv but everyone knew that this was really just a cover for getting some time between the sheets with her boyfriend. So, she had the house to herself and was making the most of some quality time on her own. The first priority had been to have a good lie-in which was never possible when her restless sister was in residence. It was lovely just lying in bed watching the shadows dancing around on the ceiling as the sun shone through the trees outside her bedroom window.
Once she had tired of this luxury, she got up and threw back the curtains so that the sunlight flooded into the bedroom. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror and pinched her bed shirt where her hips should be. She made a face at her reflection in the mirror and then stepped out of the bedroom towards the bathroom. On her way, she just checked in her parents’ room to make sure that they had gone to work but the coast was clear – she was on her own!
Desislava had always enjoyed her own company and had never felt the need to socialise on quite the same scale as her sister who was never happier than when she was the centre of attention in a group – preferably of men. But now that she was well on the way towards her seventeenth birthday, she had been wondering if it was time to broaden her horizons. So, today she was cycling over to see a friend of hers who lived on a farm to the south of the village. Everyone cycled in the village since a new bicycle-producing factory had been opened nearby in 2007 producing half a million bicycles each year.
There were a lot of employment opportunities in the area in addition to the constant need for people to work on the traditional farms which coated the countryside. Her parents both worked for a company manufacturing a wide variety of equipment for churches such as church plates, furniture, accessories and icons. This was very much a family-run business and many of the employees had spent their entire working lives with the company, her parents included.
In the bathroom, she felt the tank of water and decided that there was enough hot water for a small but luxuriating bath. She ran the water and then padded back to the bedroom. She knew where her sister hid a small bottle of bubble bath which she then took into the bathroom and poured a liberal amount into the hot water. She slipped her bed shirt over her head and gave an involuntary shiver before stepping into the warm water. She quickly sat down and sponged water all over her young body. Using the bath gel which was a permanent fixture on the shelf beside the bath, she lathered herself up and then lay back whist gently coaxing ripples of water across her body using the sponge. Eventually, the water started to cool so she got out of the bath and wrapped herself in a towel. She brushed her teeth, had a poke about in her ears with a cotton bud, and then went back to the bedroom where she towelled herself dry.
What to wear?! As she had the bedroom to herself today, she could take as long as she liked trying clothes on in front of the mirror. Shorts or jeans? A loose top or a tight T-shirt? As she was going to be cycling, perhaps it should be jeans and a T-shirt. So, she tried on the shorts just to see whether she fancied them. The only problem she found with shorts was that they tended to ride up whilst cycling which made it rather uncomfortable, and she had to keep stopping to pull them back into place. She unzipped the shorts, slid them down her slender legs and tossed them behind her on to the bed.
She selected a pair of jeans from her half of the wardrobe and started to pull them on. She recalled buying these with her sister soon after her l