by Les Cowan
“Anyway, I’m feeling a little oppressed myself right now,” David announced. “The sooner we ‘familiarize’ ourselves with this place, the sooner we can go home.”
With that, two haddock and chips appeared from the kitchen, then rapidly disappeared, and half an hour later they were heading down Bank Street, past the Royal Bank building, then down the Mound, past the art galleries, then across Princes Street onto Hanover Street. Not much further on, David noticed the Sally Winters shop and felt his heart sink.
“Ever been in here before?” he asked nervously as they were closing on their quarry.
“Are you joking?” Dalrymple retorted. “My wife buys her underwear in Marks and Spencer. That’s what made Britain great.”
David wasn’t quite sure how to take that but noticed a wry smile on Dalrymple’s face.
“Ok, here we go,” he said. “Deep breath and jump right in. D’you think they’ll reckon we’re a gay couple checking out some bondage stuff or just sugar daddies shopping for our girlfriends?”
“Stop it!”
At precisely 10.30 a.m. the following day, Wednesday, Tracy Marshall, manager of Sally Winters, Hanover Street, got an urgent phone call from Head Office. She was in the middle of serving a good-looking, 35–40ish professional type shopping for something special for his honeymoon, which is always nice. He was a bit hazy on garment sizes and was trying to give her an idea just by holding out his hands in a vague sort of cupping motion. She was supposed to guess roughly what he had in mind. It could have been 34 DD or 38 F, for that matter. On the other hand, the beauty of most bondage gear is that one size fits all so that was easier. She took the call at the main pay station. It was the national head of HR. “Listen carefully, Tracy,” she was told. They didn’t need to say that; she was already listening very carefully. She would be approached within the next ten minutes by a plain-clothes police detective who would identify himself as DI Stuart McIntosh. DI McIntosh would explain to her a police operation that would be taking place in the shop the following afternoon. Senior staff were aware of the circumstances and had approved it. It would require all the regular staff to be given the afternoon off from 11.30 a.m. They would all be paid and told an unannounced stock take would be taking place. No one was under any suspicion – it was just a new procedure. Tracy would remain on site but would not interact with customers from that point on. From the point of staff leaving, two security staff who would in fact be police officers but in appropriate non-police uniforms would be stationed at the front door and would turn customers away on the pretext of a special training event. Those turned away would be given a £5 voucher for another occasion. From then until either closing time, or whatever time DI McIntosh decided, the entire interior shop space would be under Police Scotland jurisdiction. She did not need to know the precise nature of the operation. As an organization they were happy to be able to assist Police Scotland in a vital operation that would apprehend offenders, put an end to criminal activity, protect members of the public, and make Edinburgh a safer city. She would be paid time and a half for the entire day. There would be no danger to her whatsoever; however, DI McIntosh might at any time ask her to move into the staff room behind the main shop where she would stay until further notice. Two plain-clothes female police officers she would be introduced to today would be issued with uniforms and given some basic instructions as to how to operate the tills, etc. Further police officers and others connected with the operation would be posing as customers during that afternoon. No one else would be permitted into the shop other than those the door guards allowed. It was possible that nothing whatever would happen all afternoon, but in any case she would not discuss this phone call, the operation, or anything that did or did not happen the following afternoon. Disclosure would be considered as a disciplinary matter. The company gave the highest priority to assisting the police in their inquiries. Was that clear? Tracy agreed that it was, put the phone down, and looked around, eyes wide. Who might the detective be? The youngish professional type she had been serving came over and showed her his ID. DI Stuart McIntosh.
“Hi Tracy,” he said. “Sorry about that pantomime a minute ago. Can we go through to your office for a few minutes?”
That Thursday afternoon Tati got into the car beside Dimitri. He was fat as usual, sweating as usual, and smelly as usual. But she knew the routine by now. She had the collar on and he had the remote. Why did they have to insist on testing it every time? Nowadays, knowing what was coming she was able to brace herself, but the message was plain: any mucking about and you’ll be decked before you can say a word to anyone. It was hinted that at setting 5 the shock would do permanent damage. The instinct for self-preservation was still sufficiently strong that she knew it was pointless planning anything. Just go into town, park, walk to the shop, buy something, then back to the car and back to the house. Would it be so bad to stop at McDonald’s and get a double cheeseburger with extra relish on the way? But she knew it was pointless to suggest it. Dimitri may have been lacking in intelligence but he knew how to follow orders. By this time she did too. Dimitri pulled the hood over her head and she didn’t complain.
It was overcast and a bit hazy but dry once they had parked and started walking. There were shoppers everywhere and a fantastic diversity of fashion, hair styles, tattoos, piercings, even ways of walking. A group of schoolgirls charged along chattering like mad, every one of them with a mobile in their hand showing each other some funny video or a suggestive message from a boy that made them open their eyes wide in horror then fall about laughing. An elderly couple were making their painfully slow way along Hanover Street, careful to keep out of the way of other shoppers who might accidently bang into them or knock them over. They looked nervous and hesitant. Young urban professionals in expensive-looking sunglasses that were not in the least required strode purposefully along, talking on hands-free Bluetooth while swinging a leather briefcase. A young guy who couldn’t be more than nineteen sat in a doorway with his dog. The very poorly written sign he had in front of him said Spare some change. At least you’ve got a house. She almost felt some envy. He might not have a house but as least he could sit on the pavement or get up and go when he wanted.
Tati was pretty familiar with Sally Winters after maybe three or four trips and knew which block it was in. But that was unusual; they didn’t normally have security at the door.
“That’s her! That’s Tati!” Elvira said excitedly, standing in the bus shelter nearby wearing sunglasses and a high collar. James Dalrymple stood next to her holding a large shopping bag.
“Yes!” he said under his breath.
The plain clothes officer standing with them spoke into a concealed radio mike.
“ID positive. Subject with one male minder. Dark hair. Dark complexion. Very obese.”
One of the guards at the door, who had just turned away a young couple, spotted them twenty-five yards away.
“Subject visual,” he confirmed.
Elvira and James just had time to get into the shop and disappear towards the changing rooms.
Whatever was going on, they let Tati and Dimitri through. He usually enjoyed wandering through the shop imagining little Tati dressed up in whatever she was choosing. It was such a pity the girls were strictly off limits to staff. That was a cardinal rule and breaking it wouldn’t just be a matter of a note in the file. So he had to use his imagination. His imagination was having to carry more and more of the difference between what he wanted and what was possible these days. He would seriously have to lose some weight and get himself together again. If they weren’t even allowed to touch the girls, then where was the fun? So he normally just wandered around making sure he kept Tati in sight. She was free – in a manner of speaking – to choose what she wanted then go and make sure it fitted. She’d already been well warned about any attempt to communicate with the staff or trying anything cute.
It’s a bit quieter in here than usual, Tati thought vaguely as she wandered around. Just t
wo shop assistants and three or four customers browsing. She understood what was required and knew her sizes but trying something on at least drew the process out a bit. She picked up a couple of lacy bras, a body stocking, a thing they called the Addiction Dress, and some assorted ironmongery. What she really wanted was a pair of comfortable cotton pyjamas with a fleecy lining but they didn’t stock that kind of thing. She took them towards the changing room. That was odd too. A male shop assistant was standing at the entrance to the little half corridor of four changing rooms and there was a new curtain installed that could block off the entire space.
Simultaneously as Tati entered the changing corridor a male store detective approached Dimitri.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said. “I wonder if you would mind if I just had a look in that bag you’re carrying. Over here, sir. That’s the way. Just a routine check.”
As soon as Tati entered the corridor the curtain behind her was drawn. But then the curtains of a couple of the changing rooms were pulled. It looked like they were all occupied. So why did they let her come in? And there were men in here. What? A woman with long dark hair and dark glasses stepped in front of her, grinning. What was going on? Suddenly the woman lifted the dark wig off to show short blonde hair underneath, then took of the glasses. It looked like… was it… Elvira! That was impossible; Elvira was dead. She gave an involuntary gasp and felt her legs giving way. An older man in a grey overcoat somehow materialized next to her and took her arm. Elvira – or whoever looked very like her – was holding her finger in front of her lips.
“Tati,” she whispered. “It’s me. I’m alive. Ssshhh! And this is David H: Pastor. He’s real!”
Tati felt herself grow faint. The man in the overcoat put a chair under her and eased her down. She wasn’t used to anyone helping her do anything. She let herself be gently lowered.
“Dimitri. Outside,” was all she could manage to say.
“That’s ok,” a youngish man she didn’t recognize said gently. “We’ve taken care of him. You’re perfectly safe. Here. Drink this.”
Meanwhile Dimitri was being ushered into a back room where two security guards made him turn out the entire contents of his bag and pockets. It transpired he had a pair of nipple clamps in one pocket and pink fluffy handcuffs in the other. That was impossible. He’d just come into the shop. What was going on?
“There must be some mistake,” he stuttered. “This stuff isn’t mine!”
“How right you are, sir,” the detective smiled. “However, I’ll just need to take a few details. Now. Your name, address, and nationality please…”
“Tati. Look at me. It’s real. This is really happening.” Elvira was kneeling on the floor in front of the chair. “It’s almost over. Just keep strong.”
Now the man in the overcoat was pulling up a chair next to hers. He took her hands in his. They were warm, strong, and comforting – not sweaty or filthy under the nails.
“Tati,” he said. “My name is David Hidalgo. I am a pastor in Edinburgh. You found my name on a list. You wrote to Andrei in Belarus. He got your letter and got a message to me. The other men here are police officers but they are officers you can trust. Do you understand me?”
Tati nodded.
“I trust you,” she managed to say. “Trust you. Elvira. How?”
“Dimitri tried to kill me,” Elvira whispered, looking up, still grinning into Tati’s face just in front of her. Tati’s complexion was the colour of the white cubicle curtains behind them. “But he didn’t. Maxi save me. Maxi belong to James. He help me.” She looked half-round over her shoulder towards a tall older man standing just behind them and smiling warmly.
Tati gave a start but Elvira just grinned at her all the more.
“No worry,” she said. “Maxi is a dog. Is beautiful. You see her soon.”
“Ok, Tati, can I explain to you?” David H: Pastor was speaking, still holding her hands. “It’s almost over but not quite. We’ll get you out. You won’t have to live that way any more. But there’s one thing more we need you to do. We want to get all the girls out of all the houses. Will you help us?”
Tati nodded weakly, slowly recovering her senses.
“This man is a police officer who is going to get all the girls out of all the houses. He’ll explain what we’d like you to do.”
McIntosh got down on his hunkers next to Tati and held on to the chair back to keep his balance but didn’t touch her.
“Tati,” he said, “you have been incredibly brave. We’re going to ask you to be brave one last time. Then it’ll all be over. Max and Mikhail and all the rest will be going to prison for a long, long time. They will never trouble you again. The girls will all get out. We’ll do everything we can to let them stay in Britain. They’ll get good medical care and a place to live in peace. But we need you to help us.”
She nodded again, now in command of herself. She swallowed hard and sat up a bit. Then she felt something uncomfortable digging into her stomach and the tops of her legs. She straightened her back a little more, drew in her tummy and reached into the top of her jeans.
“This is for you,” she said, handing the papers to David. “What do you want me to do?”
Dimitri was not a happy man when they let him out of the office. He didn’t have any ID on him – no passport, no driving licence, no papers, no visa documents, no nothing. And how had that stuff got into his pockets? He guessed it must have been some kind of a training exercise. One guy would plant something on you then the others would fish it all out and treat you like a common criminal. Maybe they thought it was better training for handling shoplifters than just having somebody pretend, but he resented it. How dare they manhandle him like that! What right did they have to go through all his stuff? They had even found the remote for the collar. With all his stuff being dumped out of his pockets onto the tiny table it had fallen on the floor and split wide open, batteries going everywhere and the plastic cover pinging off. He’d a good mind to complain and get them to replace it but of course it was an illegal device anyway so he just shovelled it all up, swearing in Belarusian. It had taken an age. They had this huge form to fill in. When he complained they told him he could help them fill in the form or speak to the police – which did he prefer? So they worked through it in painful, tedious detail. His name – he gave a false one. His address – he tried to make something up but he knew nothing about Edinburgh and was stuttering and spluttering, which didn’t look good, so he’d ended up giving the proper address rather than nothing. They were stupid store detectives; it wouldn’t matter. Then why was he in Edinburgh. Was he a resident or visitor? How long was he planning on staying? Did he have a preference for any of the tourist sites he might visit? What score would he give on a scale of 1–10 to the Castle, the National Museum, the Royal Yacht Britannia, the Royal Mile, Holyrood Palace? He didn’t care about any of them; in fact, he hardly knew what they were and gave whichever number popped into his mind first. “Sorry, sir,” one of them said. “You can’t give a 6 to the Castle and the Royal Mile. They have to be different.” “Then whichever number you want, please!” he shouted. “I don’t care nothing for any of them. Will you let me go please. I don’t do nothing. This not my stuff!” All the while he was wondering about Tati outside. She must be finished by now. She would come out and see he wasn’t there. What would she do? And if she wasn’t there what would he do? If she had done a runner he couldn’t go back to Max and tell him he’d lost their star attraction. They would kill him dead for sure. Sorry, Max, I just lost Tati. They caught me shoplifting some fluffy handcuffs. But I got off with it. Look – here they are. Sorry. He knew it wouldn’t go like that. Max would be smiling at him in that scary way. He wouldn’t shout. He’d just say how disappointed he was and that he was sorry but something would have to be done. Then he would hand him over to Mikhail and Boris. They would finish it off. He’d be floating along next to Elvira in the Forth. But then one of the men pressed his finger to his earpiece, listening, and suddenl
y it was all over. “I’m terribly sorry, sir,” he said. “There seems to have been some mistake. I do apologize for any inconvenience. Yes, you’re perfectly free to go. There won’t be any charges and the records will be destroyed.” “Yes, sir,” he said back. “You bet there is no charges. I keep telling you – none of that stuff is mine. Do I look like I need this things? I speak your boss. You get fired. How you bring me in here and say me a criminal? You the criminals. Yes, you. And you too. You the criminals. I get you all fired. I call your office tomorrow. Don’t bother come to work. You finished. Now all my stuff please. Ok. I go.”
When he got back out into the main shop he could hardly believe it. There was Tati, just waiting patiently at the main counter with a bag in her hand. He smiled but not at her. He had her well trained, for sure. Max better look out. One day soon he’d start his own house. Tati would work for him. Then Max could worry. These store detectives were idiots. Tati was just a stupid girl. Max was too confident. Mikhail was an uneducated fool. Dimitri was the smart one. They would all see soon. For sure.
Chapter 24
DUFF STREET
Tracy Marshall came out of the office after a boring hour spent reading Heat from cover to cover. She now knew everything about Charlotte and Gary’s break up, had seen Peter Andre’s secret night of passion pics, and taken the depression test. Turned out she was actually dangerously extrovert and needed to calm down a bit. Her mum would confirm that. She hadn’t heard a dicky bird from in the shop for the full hour, and when DI McIntosh thanked her he seemed satisfied but didn’t explain. So she decided to close early as there weren’t any staff around anyway. If headquarters didn’t like it, they could lump it. Since she’d dumped that loser Neville her evenings were free again. She pulled out her mobile and tapped on the Tinder app. After a boring day she needed some excitement. At least she was never lacking in accessories for a date night.
