‘Dear God. I didn’t realise.’
‘It gets hushed up. The problem is that prostitution is flourishing and it’s a market which, to some extent, relieson the trade in human trafficking. Apart from how terribly wrong that is, we are also attempting to develop tourism. The two don’t really fit together.’
‘I see. Tourists are unlikely to want to come to a place where girls regularly turn up dead.’
‘Or a place whose reputation is tainted by tales of a trade in foreign women and girls.’
‘Anya was Russian and terribly young.’
‘Yes, they usually are. The island is beautiful but there is an undercurrent, and it flows right through Strait Street. Because you work there, I thought you might be well placed to pass on anything you see or hear. I would pay you, of course.’
‘You want me to be a spy. How thrilling.’
He laughed. ‘I suppose you could say that.’
‘Can I think about it?’ She bit into an eclair and chewed. But she already knew. She had wanted to be changed, to be different from her bourgeois parents and now she would be. A spy! How about that? Of course she would do anything to protect other young girls from going missing.
He glanced around and spoke even more quietly. ‘Many of these girls are working for dangerous men, criminals. They live on immoral earnings and mistreat the girls. You would need to be extremely careful.’
‘I can take care of myself.’
‘All the same. And as you said, give it some thought.’
‘Can I tell Bobby?’
‘I don’t think he’ll be happy but yes, you can tell him, nobody else though, and I’ll meet you here in a week.’
‘Perhaps I shouldn’t be seen with you in public. Won’t people put two and two together.’
‘I chose this hotel because it’s entirely British and the paper I work for is pro-British, so anyone who spots us here will think nothing of it. Don’t worry. You’re safe here. It’s in Strait Street that you will have to be careful. That’s where you need to keep your eyes open.’
CHAPTER 31
Malta, 1926
‘You’ll have to remove your mask at the entrance,’ Bobby said as they drew close to the building. The ball was being given by the Civil Service and open to all, just so long as you could afford the entrance fee.
‘You have to reveal your identity there, but nowhere else. You can wear it once you go inside. But it’s also prohibited to wear masks in the streets after sunset.’
‘Why?’
‘Long story. Who knows what the government are afraid of? Probablyundesirables,I suppose, getting away with murder behind their masks. Maltese people resent unmasking though, it’s their tradition and I don’t blame them. Once you’re inside the hall and masked, everyone is equal, not like the ghastly balls that used to be held at the Governor’s Palace. Terribly snobbish affairs.’
Riva had hired a costume and was dressed as Nefertiti, a queen of Ancient Egypt, and the wife of wife of Pharaoh Akhenaten. She had a gold dress, a tall headdress and a black mask. Bobby was dressed as Pharaoh in black and gold and they made an imposing couple. A bit too imposing, Riva realised, as she saw how many eyes turned towards them when they entered the brightly lit hall. In the months they’d been together, this was the first time they’d been out in public. A tall man approached dressed as Sherlock Holmes and she realised it was Otto. He drew her aside. ‘Can you come with me?’
She glanced at Bobby, who tilted his head. ‘I’ll find you,’ he said.
She followed Otto to an alcove away from the milling crowd and the band.
‘Aren’t you hot in that get-up?’ she asked him.
‘Yes. Crazy idea.’
‘You have news?’
‘I do. You remember telling me about seeing Stanley Lucas with Anya at the club.’
She nodded. ‘Yes, and about ten days ago I saw him with two other young girls. I was waiting to tell you. I’ve not seen those girls since.’
