“Do you wish to exercise your rights to a solicitor?”
“No.”
“Are you happy to continue with this interview?”
“Yes.”
After nearly three hours of questioning and counter-questioning, he had had enough. He had asked her initial questions, then ran through the recall phase, each time her answers matched. Then he drilled down, seeking anomalies in areas of the interview. But each time she responded perfectly.
He knew she could have spent months rehearsing, being schooled by the authorities, but for what gain? It was clear, to Cade at least, that she had sufficient evidence to support an asylum claim and whilst a few of his colleagues had run with the, ‘Hell hath no fury’ line he wasn’t convinced.
Yes, she had plenty of reasons to report to him to the Spanish authorities, and she had, but no-one had listened. They seemed willing to allow an enormous amount of luxury vehicles to disappear from their border without so much as a single question being asked.
She tried to report cases of domestic violence, but each time she retracted, more from fear than lack of evidence. Each occurrence drove her further away from him and closer to the point where she had rammed that surgical steel needle into his thigh.
She had remained focused on the mission to the bitter end.
Cade presented the hard drive to her.
“Miss Petrov, I am showing you police exhibit JC1 with label attached and signed by me. This relates to a Western Digital computer hard drive which you had in your hand when you were arrested earlier today. Can you tell me why you were carrying this?”
She cleared her throat and spoke, “It has photographs of my daughter and father on it, they are precious to me, which is why I carried it.”
He looked at the drive, then directly at her.
“Is there anything else on this drive that I should know about?”
She shook her and head and said, “No, nothing.”
He paused, trying to delve into his reservoir of interview skills. As he did so she leant across the table, took a piece of paper and motioned for a pen. She put her right index finger up to her lips.
He nodded, not quite sure what was happening but feeling that the key to the whole investigation was about to emerge.
He continued to tread water stating that he was reading from his notes, so in future should a solicitor be listening they couldn’t accuse him of anything untoward – the worst case for an interviewing officer was an allegation that a client had provided information under duress.
She slid the note back towards him. It read:
Jack – the hard drive contains data about Stefanescu, about me and about my negotiations with foreign embassy staff here in Europe. There are videos of me and other men, mainly African men. There are images of travel documents from Britain, Canada, the USA, birth certificates and diplomatic passports. I CANNOT talk about this on the tape. Please. Switch it off. Or I must stop speaking to you.
He took a deep inward breath and announced that he had no further questions; he ran through the procedures with the tapes and asked if she had anything to add or clarify. She hadn’t, so he terminated the interview. He sealed the last of the four tapes and placed them with the hard drive.
He took the items back to the Custody area and put them in a holding cage, grabbed some more coffee and a packet of biscuits and walked back towards the interview room.
Barker joined him in the corridor.
“Jack. What was going on in there? I’ve heard enough to put her back on the plane, but my boss may disagree and allow her to claim. Do you believe her, you were with her, how did she seem to you?”
“Scared, Terry. Capable, trained, intelligent, but scared. Look mate, I know we don’t know each other but I need you to support me on this – there’s something special about this woman.”
“You sure it’s not just her looks and feminine guile?”
He laughed, placed his hands onto his shoulders and said, “Terry, you know you may be right, perhaps I do fancy her. Either that or I’m the first bloke she’s trusted in a long time. Or she’s playing me like a kingfish.”
“A what?” replied Barker, a keen angler.
“A Kingfish, they have them in Australian and New Zealand waters. Think mackerel on steroids. I hope to head there one day and have a go. I hear it’s a fabulous place.”
He’d thrown Barker off the scent for long enough.
“OK Jack, this is your first big test. Give it a go, let her claim, but for Christ’s sake make sure you cross the ’T’s and be careful. Agreed?”
“Agreed, and Terry, thank you.”
He re-entered the room and placed the coffee in front of her.
“Right, it’s your lucky day, miss. You get coffee, my undivided attention, and a packet of custard creams.”
“They sound revolting.”
“So does Goulash!”
“That’s Hungarian.”
“Same thing…” he was playing her now.
“No! Mr Cade, it is not.” She pushed the biscuits back across the table.
“OK, OK I’m sorry but I doubt you know much about my country to be fair.”
To prove a point, she recited every English king and queen since 1600, added a few Prime Ministers and named twelve counties. It was certainly more than he could have done. Like most Brits, he struggled to differentiate between Bucharest and Budapest.
“I am sorry too, sergeant, I am tired. But I need to tell you about the drive.”
“You do. And let me tell you that I am putting my neck on the line here.”
She frowned.
“I’m taking a chance for you. So please respect that and help me to help you.”
“I will. I promise. Just don’t send me back there. He is a dangerous man, I am safer here, not safe, they can still get at me, but safer.”
She started to outline the contents of the drive.
“A few years ago, Alex – or as he likes to be called the Jackdaw set up a team of criminals. They were either murderers or drug makers, but they all had one thing in common, they loved money. The fall of communist Eastern Europe saw a lot of people trying to use their skills to make more money. Many people were still poor. Some were even starving. I was a lucky one because my father worked for the government.”
He nodded encouragingly.
“Well, Alex’s team grew, he added some technical people, some were good with computers, others with documents and others with money – they knew how to get through bank security systems and where to clean money.”
“Clean? You mean launder?”
“Yes, launder. He hid about three million Euro in a hole under the floor of the main bar. He was the only one who knew it was there. The problem was that the authorities were looking for Alex and his men all the time, he had so much money but couldn’t use it, so he hid behind businesses such as his night clubs and rarely left them. He was safe inside. His men watched over him, protecting him, day and night. Any officials who got too close were warned off or better still paid off – I believe that some were killed.”
Cade continued to make the right sounds and gestures.
“He knew he had to leave Romania if he ever wanted to live a life of luxury, so we travelled to Spain where he met up with an old friend. He was the one I told you about; Alex slit his throat. He made it look so easy. We stayed in Spain, he was able to live like a king, he provided me with money and jewellery and a nice car, but kept beating me and making me watch him sleep with other women. He would give me to his friends too.”
Cade understood what she meant but avoided the comment, “Why didn’t you leave?”
“The simplest question, Mr Cade, but the hardest answer.”
“OK, sorry, I guess I will never understand your position?”
She replied with a faraway look, “No, I guess you won’t. Anyway, he carried on stealing and exporting the cars to Eastern Europe, many of them were packed with drugs, in the door panels, in the seats and even in t
he fuel tanks. He got pretty girls with drug habits to drive them across the border. The guards were hopeless, looking at the girls instead of the cars. Soon he was very rich and Interpol started to hunt for him, but he laughed in their faces.”
“Why?” asked Cade, leaning towards her and now genuinely interested in what he was hearing.
“Because he had worked out a way of getting support from government officials, and I…was the key. I was on, how you say this, the roller coaster?”
Cade nodded, “Go on…”
“I couldn’t get off Jack. I knew that one day soon I would have the chance to take everything from him and kill him. So, I went along with everything he asked for. I left Spain and travelled to Belgium, Brussels to be exact.”
Cade was writing notes as best he could.
“Alex made sure I had loads of money, a fast car, beautiful dresses, jewellery and invites to parties at the embassies. It was like James Bond but without 007.”
They both laughed, but the subject matter was getting more serious by the second.
“I started with a few Consuls, one from Italy, the other from Germany. I got to know them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I slept with them, Jack. They are busy men whose wives are often not with them. They love time with a pretty, mysterious foreign girl, especially one who speaks their language and asks for nothing in return.”
“OK, but what did you want?”
“I wanted their knowledge, Jack. I wanted them to introduce me to ambassadors from smaller countries, mainly Africa and South America. Before I know it, I am having dinner with Ambassadors and Consuls from Benin, Burkina Faso, Guinea, Liberia, Senegal and Sierra Leone. I didn’t even know these were countries until then!”
“You slept with all of them?” Cade asked, somewhat bemused.
“No, silly, I made them think I would. Yes, I slept with the Italian Consul because he was cute; he was warm and loving and never hurt me, not like Alex.”
He sensed that the story could change tack so quickly encouraged her.
“Go on, tell me more.”
“I flirted with them, got to visit their embassies, let them drive my car – a Maserati Spyder. They were like small boys. I knew how to press their buttons. At one point I was seeing eight different government officials. All I wanted was their diplomatic passports, some other identity documents and some evidence to blackmail them with. Whilst I did this Primul Val were stepping up to the next stage of their plan.”
“Primul?”
“Primul Val – The First Wave – it’s what Alex called his gang. They all had a small tattoo of a wave on their right wrist. All blue, except his, his was black. Mine was blue, look.”
She showed him hers. A partially scarred, small homemade tattoo was evident on the inside of her wrist.
“Did you do that?”
She shook her head solemnly. “The scar yes, the tattoo, no. I woke up one day with it. I don’t want to talk about it now. He forced that poor girl under the ice…”
“OK, sorry. OK? I won’t ask again, but I need to know how many people have this mark. Where will I locate them?”
“How many? I don’t know Jack, fifty, perhaps a hundred. Where? Romania, Bulgaria, Germany, Italy, Switzerland, America, who knows? So, do you think you will go and arrest them all? You are foolish if you think this.”
“No, Nikolina, I don’t think that at all. What I think is that I need as much evidence from you as I can get, this will at least help me to influence my bosses and then we can start hunting for them.”
“The hunter, hunted. I like that, but make sure you have the right weapons, these are very…” She paused, searching for the right word.
“Devious?”
“Yes, devious, very devious indeed. They are ruthless, greedy, dangerous men.”
Cade knew that he needed more, so he steered the conversation back towards the hard drive.
“You mentioned that there were videos on the hard drive? Tell me about them.”
She smiled, “Mr Cade, do I have to? At the time it was right, but now I feel bad.”
“Why?”
“They are videos of me having sex with men. I felt in control, but sometimes I felt scared. I did it for my country, but in the end even my country fucked me.”
Cade tried not to laugh – he wasn’t sure if it was meant to be humorous, but the look on her face said anything but.
“I understand Miss Petrov, I do, really. OK, I will skip through those images when I view the drive later – OK?”
“Thank you, you are a gentleman. If it helps, the best one is with the Ambassador to Benin. I bit him very hard.”
It was a light moment which Cade allowed to develop. She started to laugh, almost hysterically; it was another outlet, a way of exorcising a few more demons.
“My God, Sergeant Jack, what did I get involved in?” It was a rhetorical question.
He nodded sympathetically. “OK, tell me more about the documents. What is the connection with these?”
“The documents, now this is interesting. You should make notes or it will get too confusion.”
“Confusing?”
“Yes, exactly. I spent a long time in Brussels. I got to know the United Nations building very well, plus all of the embassies and consuls. I started by pretending to need assistance to enter the countries. I said I was a journalist, wanting to write for Time magazine. The believed me. It must be my looks.”
She flicked her hair back and smiled. It helped to reinforce her beliefs.
“Anyway, before long I had enough business cards to start a small folder, twelve countries in Africa, a few from the Middle East and six in South America. I wrote to each, creating a sense of urgency about my need to write about their countries and before long I was able to have a relationship with quite a few of the men.”
Cade made rough notes; so far, he hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary.
“After the first month, my diary was almost full. I had to be very careful not to be seen by the other men I was dating, my skills helped me. I changed my car three times. At one time I had a Mercedes SLR, it was very fast, the Consul of Guinea. He asked to drive it. I let him. It was fun until he crashed it. He didn’t tell me that he couldn’t drive!”
“He crashed an SLR? What did you do?”
“We left it in the street, I rang Alex and he sent another.”
Cade shook his head. They were treating one of the best cars of all time as a toy – it was at least three times his annual salary. He hated the Jackdaw more and more by the second.
“Over dinner one evening Jean-Marie, the consul, gave me three blank diplomatic passports. He said they were a gift, an apology for smashing up my car. I said I couldn’t take them, but he insisted. I took them, of course and that was the start of stage two of Alex’s plans, for they would allow free travel throughout that region within the ECOWAS.”
Cade was writing furiously, trying to anticipate what was next, but he was way off the mark when it came.
“The eco-what?”
“Economic Community of West African States, of course! It is a community in that part of the world that allows free travel for holders of those documents – and to have a diplomatic passport is even better. Some of these countries are centres for fraud; watch, in the future some will even become famous for it.”
“OK, I understand. Carry on, please.”
“People think you get false passports to travel, yes? Of course, but Alex knew that if you had a diplomatic passport it gave you more, the chance to travel without the authorities interfering, to open up frontiers and most important for Alex, to open up bank accounts around the world, especially in offshore tax havens.”
“But what if these people are detected? Surely…”
Petrov held up her hand, “No, surely not Jack, you see this is why the plan was so good. As you know diplomatic documents provide a privilege, immunity from prosecution, lawsuits, detention, even search at yo
ur border here.”
“The Vienna Convention.” It was a statement by Cade rather than a question.
“Yes, The Vienna Convention, created to allow the free passage of recognised diplomats. There are even cases of people obtaining fake diplomatic status by using a genuine diplomatic travel document, just like those given to me in Brussels that evening.”
Cade, still new to border policing but learning fast, was nodding encouragingly, reinforcing each nod with a sound and almost beckoning for more with his spare hand.
Petrov now knew that he was interested. At last someone who was prepared to listen. She thought out loud, “Lift your head up from whatever you dark deed you are doing Stefanescu, this man is coming to hunt you.”
Cade missed the sentence but was ready for the one that followed.
“You see, Jack, what Alex learned – he’s a fast learner – was that if he found the right people, he could get more passports, and more passports means more fake diplomats and more diplomats means more money. Simple.”
Cade screwed his eyes up, trying to concentrate. It had been one hell of a long bloody day.
“Nikolina, take a break. I’ll be back.” And with that he left the room and walked into the adjoining observation area where Barker was waiting – albeit now waiting to head home.
“Terry, try to explain what the hell she is on about before my head bursts. I think I understand but I need to hear it in layman’s terms please.”
“Right, where shall I begin? It strikes me that she’s talking about fake diplomats rather than false diplomatic passports. Now, if that’s the case, it’s an international problem and I’ll outline the key reasons why.”
“Please do,” asked Cade as he selfishly consumed the last of the custard creams.
“OK, your Miss Nikolina. She convinces the lesser known countries – or rather their representatives that she needs their help, in order that her agent can help the prospective country. So far? Good, then I shall continue. The prospective passport holder contacts a pre-selected, preferably poor state and offers assistance. In simple terms Jack this means money, and often to help out with what on the face of it are genuine, or as is often the case, less honest government programmes. Now this is where your charming redhead comes into the game.”
Seventh (The Seventh Wave Trilogy Book 1) Page 32
