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possible?
    The inspector looked thoughtful.
    â€˜Using women from the sub-continent isn’t typical. It’s mostly Eastern Europeans who get shipped across, ostensibly to work as maids or something, and then find that the deal isn’t what they thought it was. Some things here don’t fit. The second woman might be being kept against her will, but the one you met in the street obviously isn’t. That doesn’t mean the man she called Harrison doesn’t have some kind of hold over her. Suppose she’s not British born. A dodgy visa, perhaps? A forged work permit?’
    Again the nails tapped on the desk. A light was beginning to grow in her face. She picked up a phone.
    â€˜Send Nichols through to me.’
    â€˜There was something else,’ Nick said, suddenly remembering what had changed the whole strange episode into something far more sinister. ‘It was after we got back to my cousin’s. We’re staying with her up at High Bank. It was about five o’clock. My mobile rang.’
    He repeated, as carefully as he could, the words of that short but chilling phone call.
    Again he saw the light sparkling in the detective’s eyes.
    â€˜But what I don’t understand,’ he finished, ‘is how he could have got my number. I’d given this Harrison man my name when I introduced myself. But not my phone number. Whoever it was even knew my architectural qualifications.’
    She stared at him, momentarily disconcerted.
    Then she said carefully, ‘There are some very unpleasant, controlling people behind these prostitution rings. There can be big money involved. I can’t immediately answer your questions about how your caller knew so much. But there’s not much you can’t find out on the internet these days.’
    Of course. It was something of a relief to Nick that there might be a simple explanation. His firm had a website. It was just possible that the man had traced him from there.
    Knowledge is power, and the man’s unexpected knowledge of Nick had heightened the scary feeling that he held a dangerous power over him.
    â€˜He warned me not to approach you. But I have. He can’t really find that out, can he? And where we’re staying?’
    These were things no website could tell him.
    Her eyes were serious now. ‘You didn’t say anything to this Mr Harrison about staying with your cousin?’
    Nick tried to think back. It had been a brief exchange. ‘No. I’m pretty sure I didn’t. Just that I was tracing my ancestors.’
    â€˜Hm. Of course, if he knows your name, and he’s been able to find out your profession, it won’t take him long to discover your home address.’
    The new thought chilled Nick. How stupid of him not to have thought of that. Anyone knowing the cathedral city where his architectural practice was could certainly find his home address in the phone book.
    Inspector Heap went on. ‘Never mind that. We need to get in first. Pick up the people responsible for whatever is going on in Hugh Street. Once they’re behind bars, you’ll be safe. And so will the women of this town.’
    A uniformed woman police officer knocked on the door and entered.
    â€˜You sent for me, ma’am?’
    â€˜Yes, Nichols. Get hold of Constable Sutcliffe, if he’s around. Take this address.’ She pushed a sheet of paper across the desk. ‘The street’s supposed to be boarded up. It’s scheduled for demolition. But we have reason to believe there’s an illegal brothel operating there. Not the usual prostitutes. Asian women.’
    The constable raised her eyebrows.
    â€˜Check out the area. See if anyone’s noticed any strange goings-on. There won’t be any near neighbours if the street’s been emptied, but you never know. I need to get a search warrant. Then we’ll see.’
    She looked round suddenly at Nick and Suzie, almost as though she had