Page 26 of The Professor
All eyes went to me.
I clicked it to speaker. “Hey, what you got?”
“Not good, our guys are being held. There were thirty-four Albanian girls, all coked up, bad fucking way, all of them, two are in hospital.”
“Thirty-four?” Phil’s mouth dropped open. “Fuck.”
“And the others?” I asked.
“They’ve been stashed in some old hotel, not much better than the warehouse. God only knows what will happen to them.”
“They need rehab.”
“I know, but the state ain’t going to pay for that, not when they’re all here illegally in the first place.”
I squeezed my eyes closed, knowing he was right. “What have they got Finn and Grant on?”
“From what I can tell, just being there is their most serious offence. They weren’t engaging with the girls, hadn’t paid for anything. Four other bastards were, though, sick fucks, they were brought in by the cops.”
“Do they have any leads on Ranson’s killer?” We’d had a close shave getting away. Too close.
“Killers, in the pleural, that’s all they’re sure of,” Mitch went on, “that it was more than one attacker, but I’ll be honest, not much love lost there, the cops hated Ranson, knew what he was and what he did. Hey…I’ve got to go.”
“What can we do?”
“Raise some cash, fast. We’re gonna need a shit-hot lawyer for the guys and we’ve got a ton of girls to put through private rehab.”
“Okay, on it.”
The phone went dead.
“Thirty-four girls to put through rehab.” Dalton let out a whistle. That’s a lot of money. It’s at least a hundred grand each for private, and then they’ll need a startup package or flights home.
“And shit-hot lawyers aren’t cheap.” Phil sat back and folded his thick arms.
“How much do you reckon?” I directed at Cillian who was tapping on a calculator.
After a moment he sighed. “Four million or thereabouts.”
“Jesus Christ.” I stood and paced to the window, stared out at the darkness. I gave what I could to Galahad but I hadn’t gone into teaching criminology for the money, it was because of my passion for the subject. I couldn’t contribute financially any more than I already did.
“Jamie? We could call him?” Phil suggested.
I sighed. We’d relied heavily on Jamie this last year for shortfalls. Asking for more just didn’t sit right with me.
“I don’t see what choice we have,” Dalton said.
“Call him,” Cillian snapped at me. “Call him, Professor, sort this out.”
I turned, hands on hips. “I will, of course I will, but is there another way?”
“We don’t need another way if he agrees.” Cillian shrugged; he was getting more impatient and irritated by the second. A flush had risen on his cheeks, a sign he was getting ready to punch or kick something.
“We have a common bond.” I looked around the room and took a deep breath. “And that bond is a soul-deep belief in justice, equality, and respect, right?”
They all nodded.
“And I just think we’re taking the piss asking Jamie again, it’s disrespectful, it’s not fair, and besides, four million, he’s not going to be able to hide that from Daddy Dearest, is he? That’ll raise a lot of questions.”
