‘I’ll free my feet,’ I said to them, ‘then it’ll be your turn.’
I hopped back towards the door and lay down on my back with my bum against the edge of the reveal and my legs pointing upwards towards the ceiling. I positioned the cable tie securing my ankles against the rough edge of the reveal and attempted to saw at it. It was not as easy as I had thought. If my ankles came too far down, the angles changed and the plastic tie lost contact with the edge.
After a few attempts, I tried using my hands to push my bum off the ground, allowing for the tie to remain longer in contact with the edge. It worked, after a fashion, more of a ripping than a sawing action.
Ivonne’s cable tie parted. She came over and held my ankles steady, focusing the movement on to an exact spot on the plastic.
With the combined effort the tie soon parted. I rolled on to my side and stood up. All the physical exercise must have flushed fresh blood through my system as the dizziness was gone and the throbbing pain had receded to a dull ache.
A few warming-up exercises confirmed, to me at least, that I had not incurred any lasting injury.
‘Who’s first?’ I asked looking at the Maria, Olga and Yana.
They looked at each other, the uncertainty and fear returning to their eyes. Yana rolled on to her side in preparation to stand up, surprising me. I had assumed that Maria was the leader. But then, Yana had witnessed what I had done to the yob in the railway station and maybe that had given her reason to believe that I could get us out of here.
‘I’ll go first,’ Yana said.
‘No, Yana,’ Maria said. ‘It’s not wise. They’ll be back, you know what they said.’
Yana sat down.
‘What are you talking about?’ I asked. ‘What did they say?’
Maria glanced rapidly in every direction, except towards me.
‘Tell me what they said!’
Still no answer. I turned to Ivonne. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I don’t know. It’s whatever Erjon said to them.’
At the mention of Erjon’s name, Maria shook her head.
19
I decided to wait. Watching Ivonne and I free ourselves from the cable ties had brought the girls out of the worlds into which they had withdrawn – they had even smiled. Itching as I was with curiosity as to what Erjon had said, and the implications it might have, I gambled that with time they’d come around and tell me.
I sat down opposite the girls, propping myself against the wall. Ivonne joined me.
‘Okay,’ I said to her. ‘Tell me everything from the moment I blacked out.’
Ivonne pulled her knees up to her chest and turned towards me. ‘When the wrench hit the window I screamed.’ She touched my arm. ‘I dropped my phone. It fell down the side of the seat, I remember that.’
‘So?’
‘One of the yobs must have driven your car over here. I caught a glimpse of it, parked beside the VW van.’
‘And my phone?’
‘Don’t know,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘It was still clipped to its holder when I was pulled out of the car.’
‘If we could get to the car, and the phones are still there, and the key is in the ignition . . .’ I smiled.
‘Dream on.’
‘Yeah. More than likely they’ve nicked my phone and pocketed the car keys.’
‘You’ve got it.’
‘Now tell me the layout of this place. Is there a wall or a fence around it? Is there a gate? But most importantly what’s on the other side of the door?’
‘Okay,’ Ivonne said, and blinked. ‘Firstly there’s a fence around the place, barbed wire on the top. There’s a gate. Don’t know if they keep it closed; the van didn’t stop until we reached the building. This place is some sort of a disused warehouse or it might have been a factory.
‘We were brought in through a side door – the bus reversed right up to it.’
‘Locked?’ I asked.
‘Don’t know that. Didn’t see anyone using a key.’ She shrugged.
‘Probably locked,’ I said. ‘If we’re lucky it might be an emergency exit with a push bar. Go on.’
‘The door leads to a long passageway with offices off to the left and a couple of doors to the right – think they lead to the factory floor. The corridor does a right turn, at the turn there is a door.’
‘Metal?’
‘No, wooden. This part of the corridor is shorter. Three doors on the left. We’re behind the first one. And there is a door off to the right. Again, I’d guess it leads to the main floor area.’
‘That means we’re in some sort of a storeroom,’ I said. ‘The door to the right is it wood or metal?’
‘Swing doors made of wood with tiny windows at eye level.’
I continued to quiz Ivonne about the journey in the van and the layout of the building. I had been carried into the storeroom and had been dumped on the floor. Otherwise Ivonne wasn’t able to add much to what she had already explained.
20
We had freed ourselves from the cable ties, however, we remained locked in the storeroom with absolutely no chance of escape and with nothing to do Ivonne and I chatted about our lives and inevitably about our experiences as escorts. Having talked enough about the eccentricities of the game, I asked Ivonne; ‘Do you think you’ll ever marry?’
Ivonne chuckled. ‘A husband, a wife or a boyfriend is a possession. You’re laying claim to that person, and the ultimate expression of that is marriage, and that means monogamy.’
‘I suppose I’ll marry some day.’
‘You’re a conformist,’ Ivonne said, grinning. ‘That’s what society expects of you, it’s what it wants you to do. I’ve spent the last two years doing what society doesn’t want me to do, and I’ve enjoyed it, and earned a fair packet doing it.’
‘I don’t know that I’ve enjoyed it that much. The money is good that’s for sure. But somehow I want a boyfriend again, they’re useful to have about.’
‘Sometimes.’
I giggled. ‘Okay, I guess you’re right there. They want sex, and sex gets to be a chore. After a full day of servicing clients, all I want is that the boyfriend finally comes so that I can get off to sleep.’
‘Touché.’
‘I’ve never told any boyfriend what I do. I suppose they think something is wrong; the intimacy is lacking, the post-coital intimacy, you know, as soon as the client comes it’s over, get them tidied up and get them dressed.’ I shifted on my bum. ‘Mike says most relationships begin with being in love, nature’s way of bringing people together to procreate, a type of chemical process, and when it wears off it’s down to need and compatibility.’
‘He should bonk you,’ Ivonne said, looking at me out of the corners of her eyes, ‘or go to philosophy classes.’
‘It’s nice to talk, and he’s sweet. He talks of love being a state of being, a source within, a manifestation. That it’s not something exclusive between two people, that it’s primarily the self being open enough to emit love which then is reflected back, reciprocated, or not. He says love is bigger and greater than the clichéd, lovey-dovey notion of romantic love or that of fairytales.’
‘If you’ve got daughters, you can’t help having fairytale princesses,’ Ivonne said. ‘Has he got kids?’
‘You’re damned right; three young boys,’ I said, remembering how I had assumed he was divorced with teenage kids. ‘Maybe it’s the romantic fairytales which create the belief, and then all you end up with is two egos clinging to each other.’ I glanced at my fingers; two nails had broken off. ‘Mike maintains that love exists in every relationship you’ve had and in every relationship you have, kids, parents, pets, first love, the exes.’
Ivonne tried to hide a smile. ‘Does that mean Mike loves you?’
‘I don’t know.’ I looked up at the ceiling. ‘If you take his definitions, yes.’
‘Why did Mike come to you in the first place?’
‘Temptation, I’d guess. But somethi
ng stopped him having sex.’ I stared at my fingernails. ‘I think he knew that if he had sex, he’d cross a barrier in his own mind into an area he couldn’t resolve. Maybe it was what Martha said; he hadn’t expected to find me.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I suppose Martha was saying that Mike fell for me the moment he saw me.’
‘Oh right,’ Ivonne said. ‘Three young kids at home, mum is stressed, he’s not getting it. He goes looking. It was all abstract in his head until you opened the door. And if Martha’s right you were a reality way beyond his expectations. And he saw the real you.’
‘That’s true. The first time he visited, I was running late, he was already waiting outside the apartment.’ I shrugged. ‘He met Tina before he met Nina.’
‘So, what does he want?’
‘I don’t know. He says he doesn’t know. He says he doesn’t want anything, he just enjoys being in my company.’
‘Ah,’ Ivonne said. ‘And what about you?’
‘I don’t want to think about it, he’s a client and he’s married with three kids.’
Enough of that, it was now time for Maria to speak up and tell us what Erjon had said. I was hoping that Maria, having listened to us talk about the world outside of these four walls might be finally willing to spit it out.
I stood up, crossed over to where she sat and squatted down in front of her. For a moment I said nothing. Then I placed a hand on her leg and looked into her eyes.
‘We’re still trapped in here,’ I said. ‘But if I see any chance to escape, I will. And Yana knows that I can look after myself in a fight.’
Maria glanced at Yana. She said something I couldn’t understand.
‘Maria,’ I said. ‘I must know what Erjon said.’
Maria opened her mouth to speak. Then she looked around the room, her eyes resembling those of a trapped animal seeking a way out.
‘Please,’ I said.
Maria looked at her hands and then raised her head. ‘All right. There is an auction tonight.’
I didn’t know what she meant.
‘We’re being sold,’ she continued. ‘Erjon said that we,’ she glanced at Olga and Yana, ‘will be sold to a brothel keeper in Turkey, close to some big construction site. Erjon said; “that’s your punishment. No more nice hot showers. Lots of hard dirty men.”
Maria exhaled. ‘I’ve heard of such places, they are the worst, we’ll probably die there. If you get ill there are no doctors.’
Maria studied her hands. She hadn’t mentioned what Erjon was planning for Ivonne and me.
‘And?’
‘You’re being sold to the Arabs,’ she whispered. ‘That’s worse.’
‘Why?’
‘Islam.’
‘Eh?’
‘What you do is an offence under Islamic law, punishable by death.’
I stood up, my head spinning. I hadn’t really bothered to think about what Erjon intended to do with us, certain that we’d escape somehow. If we didn’t then a short cruel life of sexual slavery would be our fate.
21
For the first few hours after Maria’s revelation, I had sat stunned and shocked. I was also overwhelmed by the fact that someone like Erjon could, apparently without much difficulty, traffic a UK citizen out of the country to be sold into slavery. For the first time in my life I experienced real fear, and I began to truly appreciate the human horror which the three girls had undergone.
The light had begun to fade as dusk approached. The door in the corridor squeaked on its hinges. Ivonne gripped my arm.
‘Let’s do it,’ I whispered.
We had already worked out a plan. It had one hitch; we were assuming a maximum of two yobs would enter the storeroom. Two could be dealt with as we had the element of surprise. If three yobs entered the room it would be touch-and-go. There was another factor which I had not told Ivonne; having to fight within the confines of the room was a disadvantage, namely their weight and strength. And Taekwondo and a few other techniques I had picked up all required freedom of movement.
I tiptoed towards the door and on my way lifted the metal pan, placing it at the point on the floor, where, when the door opened fully, it would be knocked over. The noise of the pan skidding over the concrete floor and its movement would, automatically, draw the eye. At that moment I would strike.
I positioned myself behind the door, flexing my muscles. Ivonne remained on the floor with her hands behind her back as if she were still bound. We looked at each other, both of us listening intently.
I raised my index finger – one yob. Ivonne nodded in agreement.
Footsteps coming closer. I readied myself.
One bolt slid back, near the top of the door, a grunt, followed by the sound of the second bolt moving. A key slid into the lock. I stepped away from the wall giving myself room.
The key turned in the lock and the handle moved downwards. I bent my knees and double checked that the pan wouldn’t get tangled in my feet when the door opened.
I glanced at Ivonne; she was ready to use her feet to trip up the yob, if need be. The door opened and hit the pan. It went skidding across the floor.
Ivonne nodded. I propelled my legs upwards, channelling all the power of my body into an upwards thrust. My hands slammed into the door. It flew backwards. A solid thump and the door shuddered.
I jumped back and spun to the right, to face the yob. His hand was rising to his head. I went for the rear-horse kick and spun left. Using all the momentum of the spin, my left foot shot backwards. My left heel juddered under the impact. Right on target at sixty-miles-per-hour into the solar plexus. The yob grunted.
I spun again, kicked backwards and heard the crack of a rib breaking.
The yob was still on his feet, doubled over in the doorway. My anger surged. I grabbed the top of his leather jacket and heaved him into the room. The pig tried to resist. I jumped left, and using the downward motion connected an elbow strike to the side of his head. Shit, the bastard still hadn’t gone down.
I jumped back; a small bounce for balance. Time for something else. I spun to the right, landing on my left foot. Using the rotation of the hips and all my leg power in an upward kick, I let fly with my right foot. The hard bone of my shin connected to the soft underside of the yob’s jaw. Yeah, a satisfying crack as his jaw snapped closed. He was going down. I bounced high and, on the way down, planted another elbow strike to the yob’s head.
Down he went.
I bounced a couple of times, still loaded with anger and energy.
Ivonne shot across to where the yob lay. ‘Help me pull him over!’
We grabbed his jacket and rolled him on to his front.
‘Phone,’ I said.
I checked his trouser pockets whilst Ivonne checked the pockets of his leather jacket. I found a set of keys, not mine, but they contained a Volkswagen car key. Ivonne found an iPhone, the latest model, and a wallet.
She opened the wallet.
‘Take the cash,’ I said, seeing a thick wad of notes, ‘could come in handy. Oh, and use the maps function on that phone; find out where we are.’
I pocketed the keys.
‘Let’s get out of here.’ I nudged the yob with my foot. ‘It won’t be long before this piece of shit is missed.’
I moved to the door and cautiously put my head around the door listening – nothing.
In the corridor, I sped across, poised on my toes, to the double door to the warehouse and peered around the edge of the small window. The place was a mess with all sorts of rubbish heaped against the walls.
Satisfied that no one was in the main warehouse; I turned and took in the other two storeroom doors. We had no choice.
‘Ivonne,’ I whispered, ‘get the girls out here and lock and bolt the door.’
I approached the middle storeroom door and tapped the door with my knuckles – nothing. I moved to the last the door, the one furthest from where we had been imprisoned, and knocked softly, holding my
ear to the door. I thought I heard a faint noise.
‘Give me the key,’ I said to Ivonne, who now stood in the corridor with the girls.
Ivonne joined me, handing over the key. I slid it into the lock and to my surprise it turned – the same key for all the locks. I pulled back the bolts.
I glanced at Ivonne, who was biting her lower lip.
‘We must check,’ I said.
‘You’re right, but hurry.’
I held my breath and pressed down on the door handle. Slowly, I opened the door.
‘Oh shit.’ A girl lay slumped against the wall shivering.
I put my index finger to my lips. ‘Shush,’ I said, ‘it’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.’
She stared back at me blankly.
Keeping my index finger to my lips, I sped across the floor towards the girl.
‘Come,’ I said softly, taking hold of her upper arm.
She flinched at the contact, but I didn’t let go. I smiled. ‘Come.’
The blank look left her eyes. I smiled again. She moved her legs and I helped her on to her feet.
In the corridor, I bolted and locked the door. Knowing now that the same key opened all the doors, I opened the middle storeroom. Whew, it was empty save for a metal pan, any more girls and we’d have no chance of escaping.
It was time to get moving; the yob I had taken out might already be missed.
I paused behind the door to the other corridor. Would it be better trying to escape via the warehouse floor? With four trafficked girls in tow we’d have to be ultra quiet. And running would be a dead giveaway; six pairs of feet pounding along would sound like a stampede.
Whichever route I chose, there was still the unknown factor; would we reach an exit only to find it locked? I took a deep breath: we had to try, and, we had to escape.
The corridor was the riskier option, but I reckoned we stood a better chance of reaching an unlocked door, or at least, a door which could be opened.
Bitter Sweet Page 19
