by Carl Andrew
“Please, what do you want from me?” Sarah cried out.
“Who are you and where are you from?” he repeated in a monotonous, emotionless tone like a classic baddie out of a movie.
Sarah’s mind did not want to face her reality and began drifting off. She thought of herself as a hero in a film and her captors were the hired henchmen of a criminal mastermind. It would all be over soon and someone or something would come to her rescue.
When reality returned, she started sobbing.
“Who are you and where are you from?” the question returned.
Sarah remained silent.
“You claim you’re from Huntingdon, which hospital where you born in and when?”
Thinking she could convince her inquisitor with the right answer she immediately replied: “Hinchingbrooke Hospital, 28 May 1989.”
“Thank you.” The man got up and left the room leaving Sarah to ponder why.
She suddenly realised just as he exited that they would check birth records. She started to panic.
About 30 minutes later the man returned. He sat down opposite Sarah again and spoke in an even pitch: “There are no records of a Sarah Jenkins being born at Hinchingbrooke Hospital on that day. Where were you before two years ago when your identification documents began?”
“Ok, ok. I lived in New Zealand and I moved over here two years ago. I was able to get a passport because my family is British,” she replied.
“What are the names of your parents?” the tone was again cold and even.
“What so you can check up on me and make sure I’m telling you the truth.” Sarah was descending further into the realms of fear. She felt utterly helpless.
“If you’re telling the truth then there should be no reason for you to worry about us checking up on you. I don’t believe you are though. Why are you hiding your identity?” there was a slight change in his voice. He was sounding friendlier, more concerned about Sarah’s welfare.
“Are you telling the truth?” he asked again.
At that point, Sarah broke. She couldn’t resist any further.
“No, ok, listen, I changed my name. I moved away from England when I was younger. I came back a couple of years ago and moved back to Huntingdon. I was born in Hinchingbrooke Hospital but not as Sarah Jenkins…”
Sarah told him her story. She could not play the avoidance card any longer. They had the ability to check if she was lying. She was fighting a losing battle so she revealed everything.
Telling the story made her cry. It made her life real again, awakening the secrets she has stored away and brought the past home to her in stark detail.
Satisfied, the man left her to her tears.
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Somewhere near Houses of Parliament, London
The phone rang and Vanessa made her excuses from the table. She walked outside, checked that no one could hear her before answering the call.
“Yes,” she said.
“Sarah Jenkins is not who she says she is. I’ll send you a report,” was the response.
The line cut out and Vanessa was left to process the information she had just received.
Chapter 13:
A few days later, Richmond, Surrey
Winter was in the ascendancy as Russell got into the waiting car. It was still early, around 7am and, while the morning cold was anticipated, the level of bitterness that encircled him was unexpected.
He followed his breath into the back seat and was pleased to feel the warmth that awaited him. Removing his outer layers, he made himself comfortable for the journey to Leicestershire.
He scanned the morning papers in almost a ritualistic fashion and then turned to his laptop to check his email.
He looked in the direction of the driver before asking: “Have you confirmed that Dr Hopwood is expecting us?”
“Yes sir,” the driver responded. “We should be picking her up at approximately 9.30am and will arrive at the prison about lunchtime.”
“Excellent. Thank you,” Russell said. He was an impatient traveller especially when he had to rely on others to get him to his destination on time.
His military background had prepared him to be absolutely on time for everything and he hated being early or late, even by a minute.
He did enjoy the chance to get out of the city, however, and revelled in being able to experience the countryside, albeit from behind the protection of a glass pane.
The morning showed off the splendour of the season as frost and dew were visible, seeping off the shrubbery and glistening from each blade of grass as the city was left behind.
He stole a moment to breathe in the vision before returning to his computer screen.
He managed to get through a few items on his ‘to do list’ before the driver advised him they were five minutes from collecting Dr Hopwood.
She had requested to be collected from the Institute as she was feverishly trying to get everything in place before work commenced on the research.
Pulling up by the entrance gates, Dr Hopwood was already waiting, keen to make good time for the journey so she could get back to her work later that day.
“Jennifer, how are you?” Russell enquired.
“Good thank you Russell. Eager to get on with things as you can imagine.”
“Absolutely, and I’m delighted to hear that. Do you have everything you need? Is there anything I can help with?” he asked.
“Not at this stage thank you. We just need to record the 30 minute introduction videos so we can catalogue the test cases. That way we can develop an individual program for each of them.”
“Ok, and the meeting today with Governor Voskov, you’re happy handling that?”
“Certainly, I’ll give him an overview of the research project and how it will transpire. My main goal today is to get him onside so that he plays ball when we need him to. I can’t have anything complicating the project. That will only serve to interfere with the results and threaten the validity,” Jennifer said. She had moved into professional mode.
The rest of the journey was spent in silence as they got on with their own workloads, keen to make use of the time they had available.
The car pulled into the prison complex and Governor Voskov greeted them at the entrance. He had signed numerous confidentiality agreements and was already a signatory of the Official Secrets Act so Russell had no concerns about any leakage of information.
“Governor Voskov, thank you for making time to meet with us today,” Russell said offering his hand by way of greeting and playing the politeness card seamlessly.
“My pleasure Minister Brooks and please call me Dimitri. You must be Dr Hopwood,” he said turning to Jennifer.
“Yes, pleased to meet you and feel free to call me Jennifer. I’ll be spending a lot of time here over the next month or so and I’d prefer for it to be as a friend,” she responded.
“Of course Jennifer, I’m looking forward to seeing how the project transpires. I’m a big admirer of your work. I have a meeting room ready so I suggest we move inside out of the cold.”
Russell and Jennifer followed Dimitri inside. The simple traverse through a single door brought an instant relief of warmth.
The journey to the meeting room took them along three corridors and Jennifer was surprised as how modern the building was.
Her knowledge of prisons came from documentaries or old sitcoms as well as from some of her research activity overseas.
Each experience painted a picture of dull, lifeless buildings desperately in need of repair but this was very different.
They entered the meeting room and Dimitri offered coffee. Russell and Jennifer were only too pleased to accept the gesture and they sat down, each clutching a steaming mug.
“So, tell me Dr… err I mean Jennifer, can you give me any more details of the research project and what your expectations are of both the prisoners and I?” Dimitri asked.
“Sure, I’d be happ
y to. I’d prefer to refer to each prisoner as a test case if you don’t mind. It helps maintain an independence of assumption. I don’t want to have an actual name for each volunteer in my mind as this may alter the way I speak with them.”
“Of course, Jennifer, as you wish.”
“Thank you. So, for today I’ll only need each test case for 30 minutes. I’ll discuss their backgrounds and ask them some scenario question. All of which will be recorded,” she looked at Dimitri as she said that to gauge his reaction. He was nodding compliantly; she was pleased to see that.
“We’ll then analyse the interviews back at the Institute and give each test case a positive/negative ratio score. Simply speaking, this will determine to what extent they are either good or bad before the research project commences. It will provide us with a baseline by which to compare against at the conclusion of each stage of the project.”
“From today, we’d like each test case to wear a visual and audio recording device. This will be with them 24 hours a day, seven days a week and will capture their actions and engagements throughout the normal course of their life here,” she paused again to determine if any of this was a concern to Dimitri but he remained calm and accepting.
“Every week, I’ll come and visit each of the test cases and will put them through a planned scenario, recording their brain patterns, heart rate, neural activity, blood pressure and body language. The scenarios will likely be different for each of them depending on their positive/negative ratio. My team will also analyse the video/audio footage each week and record that on the test case project file. That’s pretty much everything.”
“That all sounds very interesting Jennifer and we’re happy to help in whatever way you require. Is there anything special you need us to do regarding each of the test cases? Also, how long do you anticipate the project going on for?” asked Dimitri.
“Nothing special from your team Dimitri, we need the test cases to live as normal a life as possible in order to get unbiased results. I’m anticipating the project will finish after a month but depending on the results, we may need to extend.”
“I’ll keep you informed every step of the way and we’ll try not to burden you or your team in any way,” Jennifer said in a reassuring tone.
“Great. I have no further questions Jennifer. If you would like, I can introduce you to the test cases now and you can get started. I have reserved a private room for you and that will be yours for the entirety of the project.”
“Thank you Dimitri.”
Dimitri led Jennifer and Russell out of the room and through another set of corridors to a large open area where ten men were waiting.
They were each very different in look, attitude and background, exactly as Jennifer had arranged.
She addressed the room providing further details of the project and answering questions from the test cases. She thanked them for their involvement and took them individually into the private room to commence their initial assessment.
Russell retreated to the Governor’s office and lost himself in his to do list while Dimitri got on with his daily tasks.
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Somewhere in London
It had been a a long and uncomfortable night of waiting and wondering since Sarah had confessed all to the man in the balaclava.
She had been given no information about what would happen next and her mind drifted in a torturous spiral of highs and lows, switching between excitement of a potential release and fear of an impending death.
The morning came and she was exhausted physically from a lack of sleep and mentally from a barrage of conflicting thoughts her mind was trying to process.
Suddenly, the door opened. This time both men entered the room together, grabbed her by her arms and dragged her out of the room and then out of the apartment.
There was no sign from either as to what to expect. The not knowing terrified her and she screamed for help. The fact that this act did not worry the two men led her to believe that her location was deserted.
They put her blindfold on in the corridor and took her downstairs. She heard a car door open and felt herself being pushed in to the back seat.
The engine growled into action and the car started to move…
“Where are you taking me? What’s happening?” she asked but to no avail.
After five minutes or so of unrequited questioning, she gave up and accepted her fate, whatever it may be.
The car continued on its journey and Sarah started thinking about her life…
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Bolton, Lancashire
Leon paced the room. There was still no further word on Sarah and he was deeply concerned. He had called the police on the hour almost every hour to the point where the senior inspector came on the line and requested Leon not to call again.
He was told that they appreciated his concern and they would call him as soon as they had any information to share.
He considered his options before picking up his phone and dialling a number.
A female voice answered: “Hello?”
“Hi, Vanessa, this is Leon. Leon Bryant,” he said. As a last resort, he decided to call the most powerful person he knew, Vanessa Lim.
“Yes I recognise your voice Leon, what can I do for you?” Vanessa said.
“I don’t know if you’ve read my posts over the last few days but a friend of mine has gone missing. She’s called Sarah Jenkins.”
“Yes Leon, I’m well aware of the situation. I’m not sure what I can help you with though?”
“I know. I don’t know why I called. I didn’t know who else to speak to. The police have no leads and can’t tell me anything. I just need to do something and I thought… I thought you might know someone who could give me more information about what’s happening.”
“Leon, you know I can’t really get involved in police affairs,” Vanessa responded.
“I know. I totally understand and I’m sorry to call. I just thought you might know someone or could suggest another option for me to call. I don’t know. I wasn’t sure how this call would go to be honest,” Leon was resigned to the fact that Vanessa was unlikely to be able to help.
“Listen Leon, give me ten minutes ok. I’ll make one call on your behalf but after that, I can’t help any further ok?”
“Absolutely, I really appreciate anything you can do. I’ll call back in ten minutes.”
“Sure, I’ll speak to you then. Leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do.”
The phone went dead and Leon felt a ray of hope for the first time in two days. He was amazed and scared at how this microsecond of a relationship he had with Sarah had affected him.
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Somewhere in London
The car must have travelled for about 30 minutes before it finally came to a halt. She heard the door next to her open and she was pulled out of the car.
She felt her hands being untied and she was told to kneel on the ground. She had seen movies where a hostage was told to kneel on the ground before being shot in the head.
She could not get that image out of her mind and she panicked.
“Shut up,” one of the men ordered.
“Please, don’t shoot me… please,” she cried.
There was only silence in response. She heard nothing for a good few minutes and then suddenly felt very alone.
She heard the car door open, then close and the engine start. She heard the car driving away and remained on her knees motionless, uncertain of whether she could move or not…
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HRM Prison, somewhere in Leicestershire
Three assessments in, Russell went to see how Jennifer was getting along. He looked through the window of the room she was in and found her deep in conversation with one of the test cases.
She ack
nowledged him, smiled and motioned she’d be out in five minutes. He walked over to the window and stared outside, taking in the scene.
Something about this time of year really comforted Russell. It was the closeness to Christmas, the way the weather turned and that Dickensian evocation of winter heightened by the colours and scents.
Jennifer finished up and came out of the room to stand by Russell at the window.
“Seen anything interesting?” she asked.
“Just taking a moment really, how’s it all going in there?”
“Good so far. There’s a really interesting mix of people and I’ve had some very encouraging responses. I won’t know much more until we analyse everything but I’m very pleased,” she replied.
“That’s great to hear. I’ll continue working from the Governor’s office if you need me for anything. See you later.”
Russell walked out of the room satisfied that the project was going well albeit at a very early stage. He really needed this to work to provide a level of credibility for the Department to cling to.
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Somewhere in London
Sarah was still, motionless, on her knees waiting for something and unsure of what that was.
She heard sounds but wasn’t certain if they were actually real. She remembered reading something about when one of your senses is gone, you tend to over rely on the remaining ones you have available. Sometimes, they can play tricks on you and for Sarah, her ears were hearing things that may or may not have been there.
She was still very much gripped by fear. Uncertain whether today would be her last day or her next breath would be the final act her body would perform.
That heightened emotion added to her feeling that she could not trust what her ears were telling her.
The cold did not even register with her. Temperature, time of day, hunger, thirst – all things people take for granted and are so infatuated with – they didn’t matter now.
