by Karen Botha
My heart thuds in my ears as I sit on the floor and replace my boots.
I wait.
Despite the cold, moisture collects inside my synthetic jacket. A lone bead of sweat trickles between my breasts and rests in the elastic of my bra. I choke on the rising smoke, spitting out dark phlegm.
And still, I wait. The wood is starting to take - a good metre square is alight. I make a silent prayer that I’ll escape before this whole place goes up. Air filters in from the outside, the hole left by the wooden knot growing. Flames flicker in and out of the outbuilding, increasing in size, greedily feeding as the wind blows.
I try kicking, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to thump out a portion big enough to squeeze through without too many burns soon.
Thud.
After my earlier appalling demonstration of strength, I kick harder this time. My hope that the wood may have been weakened from the blistering heat is still a pipe dream. Nothing happens, and I’m left stamping out my boot on the cement.
And so, I wait. Half of one side of the farm building is raging now. I’m starting to panic that I won’t get out. I begin kicking again, but this time I don’t stop. One kick, one stamp out of the flames eating at my sock, then another kick. A desperate cycle of repetition. A fight for life. A fight for my life.
There’s shouting outside. Instructions being dished out between men. Feet stamping hard on the ground as they run in all directions. Shit! I must do this, and do it now before it’s too late.
One final kick and I almost fall forward through the ring of flames. A hole!
I throw my fleece off so as not to melt and shove my bare torso through the small gap. I don’t feel the heat, don’t feel anything, just scramble through to freedom. I don’t have time to check there’s no one around; I just get out and I run. I run with every failing muscle. I don’t notice the strained tendons in my ankle biting to hold on to my balance, nor am I aware of the blisters appearing on my side. My only focus is on forcing my legs move as fast as possible, sucking fresh air down my lungs, and using wild power to get me to the bushes before I’m spotted.
Adam
I can’t sit by and do nothing. Whilst this may not be my fault exactly, somewhere along the way, Paula would not be missing if it weren’t for me.
‘Fancy a trip out?’ I ask Lucy as we leave Jerome’s grimy residence.
‘May as well, there’s nothing more we can do there, and I can't just go home and settle. Where are we off at this time, though?’
It’s 4AM already, and running on adrenalin, we’re both drained but not in a position to surrender to sleep yet.
‘One of my high rollers is in the importation business. He’ll be at the flower market getting ready for the day. He’s in with a lot of people. He may shed some light on what’s going on. Jack is a good guy.’
‘It’s got to be worth a try. It’s not like we’ll be doing anything more productive. Let’s go for it.’
We stand at the traffic lights and wait for an elusive black cab to pass by. I spot an orange beam in the distance, wave my hand, and the driver pulls over.
‘Where to mate?’ he asks before we’ve had a chance to close the door behind us. I shout the address on the south side of the Thames through the glass partition. Lucy clutches her arms round her waist.
‘It’s freezing.’ Her teeth chatter and the rims around her lips are blue.
‘Come here.’ I put my arm out and without hesitation, she melts into me like ice cream in a warm bowl. As her tension releases, and she nestles in, I allow myself to hope that despite all of this confusion and raging awfulness, we still have a chance. Love surges through me and I pull her tight. Her left hand creeps across the front of my torso. Every neuron wakes as her fingers brush through my clothes, burning my skin. She's holding me back.
‘No more games.’ I whisper into her blonde hair, it smells of fruit. I rest my chin on her head.
She nods.
‘Life is too short,’ I continue. ‘We have to grab every moment.’
‘I know,’ she says.
I kiss her hair and whisper. ‘I won’t let you down.’
She says nothing but squeezes me tighter, a silent acknowledgement. Although it’s ill timed and wholly inappropriate in every imaginable way at this juncture, a tingle starts in my pants. It doesn’t stop there, it races to my pulse, sending my blood pressure skyward. Talk about bad timing! I stare out of the window and think about something, anything else. It’s not the easiest when you’re trying to avoid contemplating that awful interview room, but as my mind swipes back to it, at least the growing pressure in my pants dissipates to an acceptable level.
The early hour means the taxi journey is unhindered by traffic, but it’s still long enough for us to acclimate to the cab temperature. With the additional comfort of body heat, we've thawed through. When we alight, the chill of the early morning air creeps round our skin like ivy, wrapping every underexposed limb.
The flower hall is a vast and very grey indoor market. Stalls are already trading, and the atmosphere bustles with the start of a fresh day of business. Each person in this building has a purpose. Except us. We wander around the infinite space without a plan, other than to locate Jack.
‘I don’t have the foggiest idea where he’ll be,’ I say. Nor even whether he will even turn up here today. But what harm can this do?
We pass a cafe, the glass frontage covered in hand written neon signs.
‘Come on, let’s stop by and get a hot tea,’ I say, dragging Lucy by the hand.
She nods, ‘Sounds amazing,’ and hangs on my arm as I make my detour.
The queue at the counter is five deep. We join the end and focus on the menu above the tills.
‘I hadn’t even realised I was hungry,’ Lucy says.
She’s right. ‘Me neither. Bacon sandwich?’ I ask.
‘Perfect.’
Decision made, I look around at the tables. I eye a vacant one in the furthest corner. I’m about to send Lucy to take up residence when my glance falls on a familiar face.
Our butties arrive, I pay, and we make a bee line.
‘Jack! I should have thought to look in here straight away.’ We join Jack’s considerable figure along with our steaming cuppa and food package.
‘Oh, Adam! How are you? Take a seat. What was all that about at the fundraiser the other night?’ Jack stands bumping the small table with his stomach.
Lucy introduces herself and we both sit. I wrap my hands around my boiling tea, then remove them remembering the warmth from the coffee in the police station. Before I’ve finished explaining the whole sordid tale behind my humiliation at the charity event, Jack holds up a hand.
‘Sorry to interrupt, but I have heard about this.’
‘Oh?’ I say. ‘I was hoping you may have.’
‘Yes, the word is that you have been transporting young refugee girls from all over the place and renting the underage ones out in your casino. Fresh meat for the high rollers.’
‘Oh, I hoped you’d be able to help from your importing side, I didn’t realise this was circulating round the casino.’
‘Oh yes, it’s fairly common knowledge on the floor; seems like the perverts have few obstacles in renting out the teenagers they’ve kidnapped. Payment is cash, of course.’
‘Who to?’
‘I'm not sure, it’s not my kind of fetish to be honest, so I’ve not had cause to find out. But I can ask around.’
I could find the answer to this myself, but considering I’m in the middle of being framed, I agree.
‘No problem. So, you’re being fingered for it then?’
‘Hmm… What exactly is going on Jack?’
My hair stands on end as Jack tells me virgins are being sold to the highest bidder. As long as payment is in cash, anything goes. These vulnerable girls have risked their lives to leave their families behind for a life of safety and prosperity. Jack has heard tales of these children being beaten and abused by multiple men in a s
ession. Bound and left as naked entertainment at drug fuelled parties, force fed alcohol, injected with drugs, and made to perform public sex acts.
‘Most of these girls are Muslims. Who knows what they’ve been through to get to a place they were told would be safe and then they’re abused in this, the worst possible way.’ Jack swallows. ‘Their humiliation must be intolerable.’
‘Have you heard some of the stories about what makes them want to leave?’ Lucy asks. ‘I have a client who is a psychiatrist. She specialises in these cases. It’s appalling. One lad saw the Taliban shooting a neighbour in the street. Being a good kid, he ran home to tell his dad that they must go to the police. The police shot his dad point blank in front of him. Can you imagine living like that and then being given a lifeline to escape?’ I place my hand over Lucy’s.
‘And then ending up here?’ Jack shakes his head.
‘How could anyone believe that I’d be involved with this? I was arrested at an event to fundraise for almost this exact same cause. Why would anyone even consider I could have any involvement, let alone head up the operation? It’s obviously a set up.’
‘But that’s the point Adam,’ Lucy says. ‘It’s not obviously a set up to people who don’t grasp you. They just see the corporate Adam, the guy who earns all the money and swans about in smart suits and even smarter cars.’
Jack and I both stop. ‘She has a point,’ Jack says. ‘People will assume you’re just holding the fundraisers as a cover. You know how cynical people are when there’s more interest in gossip than the truth.’
‘But we need the truth… How do we get to that?’ I ask, tapping my fingers.
We’re quiet, contemplating the situation.
‘How much would you like to stop this Jack?’ Lucy asks.
Jack shrugs, ‘Whatever I can do.’
‘Well then, I have an idea…’ Lucy says. We’re all ears.
Lucy
Mo answers my call quickly.
‘How’s everything going with finding Paula?’ I ask as soon as he picks up.
It doesn’t appear they’ve had much success. ‘The house was emptied out,’ he says. ‘The car was tracked on CCTV but then went dark. They must know where the cameras are. Paula has disappeared with no trace, but we’ll find her. We’re all in working on our own time.’
‘Well I have another plan.’ I say.
I relay what I discussed with Jack and Adam this morning.
‘So, if we’re going to do this properly, we need some wires.’
I can hear Mo nodding down the line, I never realised you can hear a silent movement.
‘Lucy, the issue is, we’ve already lost Paula. We can’t risk losing another civilian.’
‘Mo, this isn’t your case remember, you’re just helping us out - this is friends stepping in unofficially to help out one of their own. The department which should be dealing with this, is hell bent on proving the opposite to the truth. We don’t have a choice about this, we need to take action.’ I pause. Mo doesn’t answer, so I continue. ‘Plus, with the wires, you should be able to make sure nothing bad happens.’
‘Hang on.’ Mo’s voice is muffled as he covers his handset. I wait the few moments it takes for him to run his negotiations.
‘Steve says we’ll do it if you’re sure this chap, knows what he’s doing.’
‘Trust me Mo. Jack is no angel, he may not know who he’s dealing with, but he does know what.’
‘Best if I don’t ask too many questions! We’ll leave it at that.’
We make the arrangements and two hours later, Jack, Adam and myself are at the station, waiting for Mo and Steve.
‘I’ve never been inside a police station as much.’ Adam moans. ‘It’s like rolling a dice, seeing which way your future will be decided. You have no control, you’re just trying to play the odds, tip them in your favour.’
‘Well hopefully this will help, mate.’ Jack slaps Adam on the back.
‘I really appreciate this.’ Adam replies to everyone gathered.
‘Now, stop all this maudling.’ I say.
‘Stop all this what?’ Jack mocks.
I shake my head. ‘Seriously, you guys may have money, but you don’t understand Yorkshire speak.’ They smile, the mood lifted, ‘It means, this situation is serious enough without dwelling on it.’
Mo walks in with some technician. He’s just missing the lab coat. They prod and poke at Jack as he stands arms akimbo, whilst being fitted with the necessary surveillance equipment.
‘It’s a lot smaller than I expected.’ I say from my position at the rear of the room.
‘Yeah, technology moves quickly. Our budgets aren’t massive either, so this is the lower end of the market.’ He shifts his position, turning to pull a watch out of a bag. ‘Now, put this on Jack, it’s a video recorder. It’s not fantastic quality, but it’s better than not capturing any footage. We could place a device in your phone, but they may take that off you so you’ll be safer with this.’
Jack turns the watch over in his hands. ‘Are you sure?’ he asks as he removes his diamond encrusted watch.
‘Of course,’ the technician replies.
‘But surely, they’ll be expecting me to have an expensive watch?’ He holds the two together as a comparison. ‘This is the type of thing these crims will be looking for. They’ll spot it a mile off.’
‘It’s up to you, Jack. If you think this will place you in more danger, you don’t have to wear it.’ Mo says.
Jack nods. Returns the watch to the downcast technician.
‘OK, well have this at least.’ He says popping a black symbol in Jack’s trouser pocket. ‘This is a tracker, so we know where you are. And there’s always that one for your phone as well - if you want it?’
Jack nods, shifting his position to get comfortable with the strapping. ‘I’ll leave the phone one I think. Don’t want them finding it if they do a initial search.’
Mo runs through how and where the back up will be located, and, the techy does a sound check and makes sure the device records. ‘I think we’re all set.’ He says.
Steve bursts in. ‘So sorry about that, I was on a call. A lead about Paula.’
All eyes face him, ‘What?’ I ask.
‘There’s been a fire reported at an unused farm in Essex. The fire brigade were called. Some stables were burnt down, and nothing was found. But there were signs of arson.
‘What does that mean?’ I ask, why would that connect to Paula?’
‘They found remnants of what could have been that awful fleece she was wearing.’ Steve explains. ‘By the barn.’
‘Oh, but no Paula?’ Adam asks.
‘No, but no body either.’
‘So she’s alive?’ I ask.
‘There is a good chance. We know Paula won’t give up without a fight. I just hope that she started that fire somehow and managed to escape on the back of it.’ Steve rubs his temples. He’s speaking to himself, not the room full of people hanging off his every word.
‘So what’s happening now?’ Mo asks, ‘Do we have uniform combing through the local CCTV? Are they searching the area on foot in case she’s run off and is out there?’
‘Yes of course.’ Steve snaps, runs his hand through his hair. ‘Sorry, Mo.’
Mo curls up his lip, unsure of why Steve has been quite so stressed. Cops go missing in the field for days at a time on a regular basis. Of course, this is different, she’s one of them, but he doesn’t understand quite how personal this is to Steve. ‘Has anyone contacted her boyfriend?’ Mo asks.
Steve takes a visible lung full of air. ‘Someone is on their way around to him as we speak.’
‘Must have been murder sitting at home waiting for news.’ Mo mutters. We ignore his phraseology.
‘OK, so Paula may be free and waiting to be found. What if she isn’t, then what? Is there any way to track where they would have moved her on to?’ I ask.
Steve answers, ‘Well, my team are checking vehicular movem
ent on the roads which connect to the farm at the time the Fire Brigade suspect the fire started. Then they’ll track all the end locations and we’re going to try and get local teams to check them out.’
‘Sounds like a lot of work,’ Jack says.
‘She’s one of us,’ Steve snaps for the second time. ‘Look I’m going to find out what’s going on. I assume you’re all good down here?’
‘On it,’ Mo replies.
When the door slams behind him, the atmosphere in the room lightens. Every pair of shoulders allows tension to float away. Until that is, we remember why we’re there.
Paula
Really? Nettles? Out of all these bushes, I select one with a vast undergrowth of nettles. The stables are ablaze now and there is quite some commotion going on. It sounds like there’s screaming from inside the barn but I can’t be sure; there’s so much kerfuffle it’s difficult to say.
Scruffy males run to and fro. If only I could get to the old tractors without being seen, I’m sure one has keys. I can then barge it through the weakened barn to check for other hostages before driving myself and any others to safety. But the tractors are parked right in front of the inferno. It’s not like I know for sure which one, if any has keys; it’s just a guess. It's my only chance, though. I’ll wait for the right moment.
I’ve been hiding out for way longer than I’m comfortable with. My sides have blistered, I cool their stinging with wet leaves. They’re big burns, and I reckon in a different situation, I would be visiting the hospital. Stupid me, what was I hoping to prove? To show Steve that I don’t need him? To show myself that I don’t need him? I have no idea what gets into my head sometimes. Lucy says I’m driven by a need to prove myself to judgemental parents, but I’m not so sure. She may have done some counselling, but I’d rather trust that I’m my own person. At least Andy will be at home, Boob, my doting French Bulldog, will be OK. Lucy will have made sure of that. Oh, how I’d love to hear Boob’s annoying whining at this moment.
