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  There was the sound of a horn, leant on heavily, from outside the café. The girls looked up. A red Mercedes station wagon was double-parked outside. At the wheel was an Asian woman in her early forties, heavily made up, hair in a tight knot on top of her head. The woman looked blankly at the girls and pressed her horn again. Marcie jumped up.

  ‘I gotta go,’ she said. ‘Nice meeting you all. Thanks a lot.’

  She ran out of the café, opened the back door of the car and climbed in. The woman put her foot on the accelerator and the car roared away.

  Scarlett stared at the money in her hands. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘She was really scared of something. What am I going to do with all this?’

  ‘Well,’ said Mai Ling, ever practical, ‘at least count it first, and we can all witness how much it is.’

  Scarlett spread out the notes and between them they counted out two hundred and ninety-five dollars. Scarlett opened her phone and typed in the amount, the date and the time, and the address of Maria Angela. Then she added the name of Maria Ramos—the girl Marcie said might have disappeared.

  ‘Go to the American Express office and find out how to send money to the Philippines,’ suggested Dorcas.

  ‘Okay, that’s just in the next street. Can you guys come with me?’ Finishing her coffee, she added: ‘I hope nothing does happen to her!’

  After a moment, she took out Cass Diamond’s card and added the detective’s mobile number into her phone.

  ***

  At five o’clock that afternoon, Cass met again with Drew and Leslie Fernando in the Inspector’s office.

  ‘How many today, Diamond?’ Leslie asked as Cass deposited a half-filled coffee cup beside her chair.

  ‘Just five, sir,’ she replied with a smile. She was cutting down to four coffees a day, she’d told the team, weeks ago now. Not for the first time. ‘Good idea,’ Drew had said about her resolution. ‘Then you won’t be so impulsive all the time!’

  ‘Gee thanks! And if I weren’t impulsive who would have found Michel Janvier still alive at the bottom of Kahlpahlim Rock?’

  What she hadn’t admitted to were the double shots in all those coffees.

  ‘So,’ Leslie asked, ‘where are you up to with this?’

  Drew explained that they had positively identified Dorentina Lavides as a citizen of the Philippines.

  ‘The autopsy’s tomorrow morning,’ said Cass. ‘We found the woman’s cousin, she’s the next-of-kin. We took her to the mortuary and she’s given autopsy consent.’

  ‘On the face of it,’ Drew said, ‘Dorentina—known as Dorrie—simply went to the motel with the aim of meeting a client. However, we haven’t been able to find her phone, at this point.’

  ‘I interviewed the cousin this afternoon,’ Cass explained. ‘Marcellina Lavides—she calls herself Marcie. She admitted she had known that Dorrie was going to the motel, but she doesn’t know what’s happened to Dorrie’s phone. We asked to see her own phone and it certainly appears that she was fully occupied with her own clients last night, in the Mooroobool unit where they were both living. This morning when we were at her unit, she made a phone call. I asked her about it, thinking it might be someone controlling the two of them. But she said it was a regular client she wanted to put off and showed me his number; She also gave us Dorentina’s phone number, and I’ve been able to confirm that two calls were made to it between five and six yesterday evening. Both those numbers belong to men who very quickly hung up when I called them today and identified myself. As did the guy who Marcie called this morning.’

  ‘None of the prints taken in the motel room are on any database,’ added Drew. ‘We’ve also found that the two women are here on student visas—and they’re not your average student. The school where they were supposed to be studying English shut down several weeks ago.’

  ‘So,’ said Cass, ‘maybe someone helped the two of them come here. Maybe someone who also brought other women here. Although Marcie denied this.’

  Leslie listened to Cass’s account of Marcie’s story, then said: ‘So you want to follow this up and see if there’s a syndicate that could have trafficked these two? And maybe others? And then we’ll pass it on to the boys in the Taskforce?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Cass slowly, ‘if it’s just a syndicate. But, sir, Drew and I feel that there’s possibly something more even than sex trafficking going on. When Dorentina Lavides checked into the motel, she gave the name, Maria Ramos. Today I asked Marcie if she’s ever heard of Maria Ramos. She said no, that Dorrie just used the name Maria for work and it’s a common name in the Philippines. But she hesitated before she answered.

  ‘I googled Maria Ramos and there are a lot of them in the country. It is a common Spanish name. But in particular, there’s a Maria Ramos, 23 years old, who came here in the middle of 2010 on a one-year student visa. She was on a Philippines passport. She’s never left the country. And no one has reported her missing.’

  ‘She’s probably just gone off to Sydney or Melbourne to work,’ said Leslie. ‘Changed her name and got a place in a brothel somewhere. Or met some bloke and gone to live with him. Loads of people overstay their visas and, though most eventually leave, some just go on living here under the radar, often for years, if they can get away with it. If no one’s reported her missing, it’s probably because she’s in touch with her family back home.’

  ‘Marcie was very alert though when I asked her about Maria Ramos,’ Cass said. ‘After a while she asked me about her—did I know what had happened to her? When I asked was she sure she didn’t know Maria, she said no, she doesn’t know Maria. But she seemed worried as we talked about it. And another thing, when Dorentina Lavides had to provide an address where she would be staying when she arrived in Australia, she wrote down 1A Sheridan Street, Cairns.’

  Leslie stared for a moment: ‘But that’s right next door!’ Cass nodded.

  ‘Having met Marcie and seen Dorrie,’ Drew said, ‘I don’t think they put that by accident. Someone gave them that address.’

  ‘Well,’ said Leslie slowly, ‘then it may be worth looking at how many other young Filipina women have overstayed student visas in the last two or three years. See if any others have gone underground. Students from the Philippines would be unusual. How many have we had in Cairns? Are they all coming here for sex work?’

  Drew looked thoughtful. ‘All the sex workers in Cairns advertise in the personals section of the local rag,’ he said. ‘With their mobile numbers. How about I look back through them and see if Maria Ramos figures? Or even just Maria.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Leslie, ‘that’s easy to do.’

  ‘I just won’t tell my wife,’ added Drew with a wink.

  ***

  Cass walked back to her office, thinking about Marcellina Lavides. She’d been given details of the hospital social worker by Laurie and told they would help organise a funeral when the autopsy was done, and help Marcellina with other things she would have to arrange. Marcie had said she knew someone else in Cairns who would help her with phone calls, but she wouldn’t say who that person was. She had declined a ride from the interview in the police station back to Mooroobool, even when she’d been told it could be a plain car and a non-uniformed driver. It was clear that she was still alarmed at being involved with the police.

  She was a young woman, though, now very much alone in Cairns, who’d just experienced a great tragedy in her life. A phone call could be helpful.

  But when she called the mobile number Marcie had given her, it was switched off. Cass thought a moment, then decided to pass by the Mooroobool address on her way home. She had a green sweat shirt in her car, she’d put that on. It was getting cool outside anyway. Wearing the shirt, she’d look more like an ordinary person. Even without uniform she was sure she looked like a copper.

  She parked down the street from the units and walked up towards them. Turning into the driveway she spotted a man coming around the corner at the other end of the street, walking towards her. She made he
r way to Number 5 and pressed the bell. No one came to the door although Cass was sure there were faint noises from inside the house. She stood a moment surveying the door, which was badly in need of paint. From the corner of her eye she noted that the man from the street had also turned into the driveway. He was tall, middle-aged, head shaven, tatts on forearms, wearing a Hi-Vis vest and jeans. Ignoring him, she turned towards the door and pressed the bell again.

  Suddenly she felt arms gripping her from behind, the man’s body pressed hard against hers, and his voice in her ear: ‘Hello, sweetie!’

  After an instant of surprise her taekwondo training kicked in. He now had his right hand on her breast. She pushed back hard against his arms and used both her hands to grab his left hand, his ring finger and pinkie in her right hand and his index and middle finger in her left. She pulled her hands apart as hard as she could and kicked up both her legs so her full body weight was dragging his fingers down and apart. Easy-peasy, she’d learnt this move even before she had her green belt.

  He screamed with pain and let go of Cass who rapidly rolled to one side out of the way as the guy fell forward onto the concrete driveway. He smelt strongly of tobacco and sweat. She jumped up quickly, prepared to kick him where it would hurt the most if he continued to fight.

  ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck you!’ he screamed. He rolled over slowly, holding his left hand in his right, and made to get up but Cass planted a foot on his chest.

  ‘Detective Diamond, Cairns Police’ she said, ‘and I’m ar-resting you for assault of a police officer. Stay right where you are.’

  She slipped her mobile out of her pocket and called in a squad car. Within five minutes she heard the siren at the end of the street, the car arrived and out jumped Constable Swift, living up to his name. All along the driveway neighbours were peering out of doors and windows.

  ‘Detective,’ he asked. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘This man is a person of interest to an inquiry of ours,’ said Cass.

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Don’t know yet,’ said Cass. Looking at her captive she asked: ‘What’s your name, mate?’

  ‘Gerry. Gerry Rose,’ the man muttered, still nursing his battered hand.

  ‘Take Gerry back to the station,’ Cass said to the constable. ‘I’m coming back to talk to him. DSS Borgese will also be interested, if he hasn’t already gone home. After we’ve talked, we’ll decide whether to charge him or not.’

  She looked down at the recumbent Rose.

  ‘Assaulting a police officer,’ she said. ‘That’s a serious charge.’

  ***

  Making her way back to her car, Cass drove at a leisurely pace back to the station. She’d contemplated the closed front door and shuttered venetians of Unit 5 and decided that if Marcie was home and had heard the fracas, she clearly had no wish to show herself to the neighbours or to the police. At Sheridan Street Cass found Drew already sitting in a small interview room with Rose. She wrinkled her nose as she sat down opposite the man, who looked far from happy. He reeked of cigarettes.

  ‘So, Gerry,’ she said, when he had given his name and address and been formally cautioned, ‘we’re really just interested in asking you a few questions about what you were doing at those premises and who you were planning to see.’

  ‘You mean you won’t charge me if I tell you that?’ he asked, incredulous.

  ‘Just answer the questions,’ said Drew, ‘and we’ll see what we make of them.’

  Gerry appeared to be thinking for a moment.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I reckon you know I went there to see a woman.’

  ‘Do you know her name?’ asked Cass.

  ‘Nope. Not her real name, anyway, I don’t think. She calls herself Maria.’

  ‘And why did you expect her to be there?’

  ‘I seen her there before. Last week.’

  ‘Do you go there often, to that address?’

  Rose looked from Cass to Drew and back again.

  ‘Is there any reason I shouldn’t?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ answered Cass, ‘there’s not. But can you tell us if you always met the same woman, or more than one.’

  ‘Just one at a time,’ Rose said, with a half-smile. ‘I don’t do threesomes. But there’s different girls there at different times. Angela. Ashley. Other names.’

  ‘Are they all from the Philippines?’

  ‘The Philippines? I wouldn’t know. I never asked them. All little brown girls.’

  Ah, thought Cass. LBGs. LBFMs.

  ‘And you thought I was one of them?’

  Rose was embarrassed. ‘Jesus Christ, I didn’t know you’re a copper.’

  ‘No. I can see that.’

  ‘Have you ever seen any other person at the unit,’ Drew asked Rose. ‘A man, or a woman who looked like they were running the girls?’

  ‘Like pimping, you mean?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No, I never seen anything like that. Just the girl. I pay her cash.’

  ‘And how do you get in touch?’

  ‘On her mobile. The numbers are in the paper. There’s a lot of numbers, all for different girls.’

  ‘Where were you yesterday evening between five and nine?’

  ‘Coming back from Cooktown. I’ve just finished a job up there. Concreting. Got back about ten.’

  ‘You drove back?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Cass looked at Drew, who nodded.

  ‘Right, Gerry,’ she said. ‘That’s all we want to know. We won’t be charging you, so you’re free to go. I suggest a bag of frozen peas and some Panadol for that hand.’

  8

  Cairns

  Thursday 23rd August 2013

  On Thursday morning after recess, the four friends sat in the back row of their social sciences class. Mrs King stood at a whiteboard at the front of the classroom and each girl had her computer open to make notes of the lesson. They were supposed to be studying the Australian electoral system. Instead, they were googling the sex trade in the Philippines and emailing each other.

  About 400,000 women working as prostitutes in the Philippines MOST ARE AGED 12-20 but some are 11 or YOUNGER WTF??? wrote Emily.

  150,000 children in the Philippines involved in prostitution—Jesus!!! responded Mai Ling. dorentina was 15 when she started, that fits, Scarlett wrote.

  Social worker says that even if men think they are not with underage women they will be , from Dorcas.

  Not only under 18 under 16 OMG!

  Under freaking 15!

  Davao City more than 1000 teenage girls are prostitutes some as young as 10 some charging as little as 50 cents 

  Photos of bars with all these old white guys and these young girls its gross

  Freaking gross

  They both worked in a place called Angeles have a look at the photos

  The biggest sex tourist destination in the world

  That’s where dorentina was. The Area its there

  Lots of bars run by australian men you can see them in the photos

  Check out the interview with CNN theres this fat old white guy says these girls make a choice Some choice

  Yeah after her whole family dies in a flood and her house is washed away she chooses to go on the street like maybe she could be an astronaut instead

  The girls’ eyes were fixed on their laptops as Mrs King approached on rubber soles. The rest of the class held its collective breath.

  ‘And just what do you all think you’re doing? Emily! Don’t delete that!’

  Mrs King moved her considerable weight between Emily and the laptop. ‘I can’t believe you girls are looking at pornography! Stand up, the lot of you! What is this?’

  The four stood silently, looking at each other. Emily was red with indignation. Then Mai Ling spoke.

  ‘We were looking up sex trafficking, Mrs King. Women being brought to Australia to work as... prostitutes.’ She supposed that Mrs King must know this word. ‘Because of the woman... wh
o died in the motel where Scarlett was working. The police said that woman was a sex worker.’

  Mrs King moved to Emily’s computer and began to scroll down. An article appeared, an interview with a worker in a women’s refuge in Metro Manila. Words jumped out at her: ‘foreign child molesters take advantage of children’s poverty’, ‘10,000 young girls trafficked into sex slavery in Cebu.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘this is shocking.’

  Then she stood back. ‘But it’s not the topic we’re studying today which is the Australian voting system. So, what I suggest is this. All four of you stop this now but spend some time before the next class preparing a presentation on this topic so we can all learn about it.’

  Then she added: ‘Um, and maybe you should let your parents know what you’re doing’.

  ***

  On Thursday morning, since Cass was to attend the autopsy of Dorentina Lavides, Drew took himself off to the police department library with a coffee, his laptop, a blank notepad and several pens. He ordered numerous back copies of the Cairns local paper—for every Thursday for the past two years—and while he waited for them to be delivered, he looked out at the view, a postcard scene of sunshine and blue water decorated with small boats and windsurfers. He was thinking though, not of the view, but of the trade of prostitution, as it was practised in Far North Queensland, and the law relating to it.

  Drew’s first close observation of the Personals’ section of the paper was when he was looking for a good used car for his wife. He’d been amazed by the number of women offering their services in a town the size of Cairns—filling a whole page with names, mobile numbers and some vivid descriptions. Leila had not been impressed to find him reading closely through these instead of searching for a white Toyota Corolla with low mileage.

  The law certainly had the effect of making prostitution invisible, thought Drew. No soliciting on the streets of Cairns and only one brothel. It definitely hadn’t stopped violence against female sex workers, though. He’d been involved in too many calls to flats and houses to deal with disputes and assaults when he was in uniform. He particularly remembered in his first year on the beat being called to a city apartment where two tiny Japanese women dressed as fairies had been roughed up by a large Dutch tourist in a too-tight Superman outfit. In his eagerness to escape the suit and get on with the fun of the threesome, the Dutchman had twisted an important part of his anatomy in the sleeve, the girls it seemed had been reduced to helpless mirth and the Dutchman had exacted a terrible revenge. Both women had been hospitalised and repatriated.