Tug Of Law (Bernadette Mackenna Cases Book 4)

by D. R. Bailey

  “Thank you,” said Anh. Kim said something in Vietnamese. “She says thank you also,” Anh translated.

  “If it’s OK, I’d like to ask a bit about you both, what is it you did in Vietnam?”

  “I was employed as a tour guide,” said Anh, “I learned my English at school, studied hard. Kim was the daughter of a farmer in the country.”

  “Right, and if you don’t mind, can you explain why you became a refugee?”

  This might be a touchy subject, but it had to be asked, their motivation was of interest to understand the case better.

  “I lost my job. I could not get any work. I wanted a better life. A friend told me how I could get here and put me in touch with someone.”

  “Why did you lose your job?”

  “The boss, he was not nice. He wanted to… you know… make me do things.”

  “He wanted you to sleep with him?” Bernadette said bluntly.

  Anh nodded and looked shamefaced. She lowered her eyes. To her, it was probably a very shameful thing.

  “Don’t be ashamed,” said Bernadette reaching out her hand to Anh as an automatic impulse of compassion. Anh took it and held it fast still looking down. “These things happen all the time in Ireland and the UK. It’s awful. We have laws against it here.”

  “In Vietnam too, there are labour codes and offenders can be punished. If you can prove something. But if you can’t prove it then…” Anh left the rest of it unsaid.

  “So, he made it difficult for you to work again?”

  “Yes, if I would try to get a job with someone else, he would speak to them and say terrible things. He became obsessed with me, saying I must marry him. I didn’t want him. I didn’t want to be near him. I had to get away.”

  “Couldn’t you move somewhere else in Vietnam?”

  “These things are not so easy.” Anh sighed deeply.

  Damsa noting the women seemed quite comfortable announced she would make them some tea and left the room.

  “And Kim?” asked Imogen who had been silent until now.

  Another exchange ensued between Anh and Kim, and then Anh said, “She had no work, she comes from a poor province. Her father wanted her to get a husband, and she didn’t want to.”

  “Why is that?”

  Anh, paused for a moment considering if her answer might be found offensive, and then decided to take the plunge. “She does not like men.”

  “We understand,” said Imogen, “We’re both gay… so…”

  This was conveyed to Kim who chattered quite excitedly for a moment.

  “She says then you will know how she feels.” Anh smiled.

  “We do,” said Bernadette. It seemed best not to labour the point. Her reluctance to obey her father’s wishes was abundantly clear. It seemed plain enough what pressures had made them try to start a new life. She did not really know what the attitudes to LGBT were in Vietnam and resolved to look it up.

  “How did you come here? By what route?” Imogen asked Anh.

  “We travelled through Russia, Eastern Europe, and then to Ireland. It cost us a lot of money. My family helped me to get the money. They thought I would be able to earn more and send it home. Kim borrowed it from someone and now she owes a lot of money.”

  “So, if you go back?”

  “The man will kill her, and the gang will kill me or kill us both because we know their secrets. We will be arrested by the authorities they will want names, and if we give them names then we will be killed. The police here already asked us for names, but we didn’t want to talk. We are afraid,” Anh said simply. It was matter of fact without rancour or embellishment. Just a statement of the consequences to them, of what they had done.

  “We’re interested about the part where you came to Ireland,” said Bernadette, “How did you get onto that final truck in the barrels?”

  “We came in another truck from Europe to a big place where there were many trucks.”

  “Can you describe it?”

  “I will try…” Anh launched into a description of somewhere which sounded remarkably similar to Balik Transport. Apparently, they’d been kept in a large shed and then put into the barrels on the truck.

  “So, you definitely changed trucks in Ireland?” Imogen asked wanting to be sure.

  “Yes.”

  “How did you know it was Ireland?”

  “I could tell by some of the accents. I asked someone where we were, and he said, in Ireland.”

  Damsa brought the tea, she had made it in a pot. She poured it out for each of them, and they took their own milk and sugar as they wanted. Bernadette sipped her tea before asking the next question.

  “Wasn’t it uncomfortable in those barrels?” she said.

  “Yes,” Anh laughed, “But if you had been on some of the terrible journey’s we have, it was nothing. Also, we’re quite small, so it was OK. They made holes in the barrels for us to breathe, but it was dark, hot. We had to hold it in if we needed the toilet.”

  “Ouch,” Bernadette winced, “You must have wanted to come here very badly.”

  To her, it sounded absolutely dreadful, unthinkable. Then she knew she had led a comparably privileged life.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you know that you were being trafficked for sex?” Imogen said bluntly. She felt perhaps they could be open with these women who had endured so much hardship.

  “No, of course, we did not until the police told us. If it was for that we would never have come.”

  “Were you scared when the police found you?”

  Kim nodded, it seemed she had understood this question. Anh said, “I was relieved, it was almost like being rescued. Once we found out what was planned for us, I was glad they had found us. I can’t think how bad it would be if they had not.”

  “I can’t imagine what you went through,” said Bernadette sadly, “It sounds simply terrible and frightening.”

  “Wisdom comes after foolishness. But only if you learn from the mistakes. My father told me.”

  “And have you?” Imogen smiled.

  “Perhaps we learned too late, we should have stayed in Vietnam. But Damsa has given us hope, hope we will get asylum.”

  “Their chances are good,” Damsa put in, “I’ve dealt with such cases before, we’ve succeeded more than we failed.”

  “They are lucky to have you,” Bernadette replied.

  Damsa simply inclined her head.

  “We feel very lucky,” said Anh.

  “If I show you a photograph, can you tell me if you recognise this man?” Bernadette said to Anh.

  “Yes.” Anh shrugged.

  She pulled a photo of Callum from her bag and put it on the table. There was no flicker of recognition in either of the women’s eyes.

  “No, I haven’t seen him,” said Anh. A conversation between her and Kim elicited the same answer. “The men mostly wore masks so it would be hard to tell for certain, but just from the shape of his face, and his head I don’t think so.”

  “Did they use each other’s names, when talking?” Imogen wondered.

  “Yes, they maybe thought we didn’t know English and I pretended to only speak it a little.”

  “Did you hear the name Callum at all?”

  “No, I don’t remember that one.”

  “What about Omer?”

  Anh thought about this, and then nodded. “It seems familiar.”

  Bernadette and Imogen exchanged glances. This was significant indeed.

  “Tell us a bit more about your journey,” said Bernadette, sipping her tea.

  Anh related some of the details of their ordeal which seemed in part harrowing, but they were also not treated too badly. Perhaps the smugglers wanted them to not be alerted to the real reason they were being transported, lulling them into a false sense of security. They were promised a job, a new identity albeit fake, and a place to live. It was unfortunately believable if you were a person so desperate
to leave. Even for someone as well educated as Anh, she had been incredibly naïve, Bernadette reflected. In hindsight, it seems Anh knew it but there was nothing to be done about it but to move forward. Their stoicism was what most impressed Bernadette. She had purposely got them to talk, to gain more of their trust as much as anything, in order to ask them a key question.

  “I’m going to put something to you, and you can say no, but I’m asking you to consider it,” she said at length.

  “OK.” Anh looked at her without suspicion.

  “If I was to ask you, or even both of you to sign an affidavit which outlines what you’ve told us, would you be prepared to do so? We can arrange for anonymity in court.”

  There followed a fairly long conversation between Anh and Kim which sounded very much like an argument.

  “Kim wants to know why you want this?”

  “Damsa may have explained it to you already, but we represent a client who we believe is not guilty. The British police want to extradite him on charges of trafficking, we are fighting the extradition.”

  “Is this him?” Anh asked her pointing at the photo.

  “Yes, that’s him. We believe he’s innocent, and we don’t believe he knew about it.”

  “What will happen if you lose?”

  “He will be brought to the UK and charged. He will face fourteen years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  “How will our evidence help you?”

  “It might sway the judge. Even better if you were willing to give evidence by video link, we can make that anonymous too.”

  “I see.”

  She spoke to Kim who shook her head vigorously.

  “Kim doesn’t want to,” she told them.

  “OK, and yourself?”

  “I need to think, even if it is anonymous, as you say, the gang will still know it was one of us. I may be putting all of them in danger by this action.”

  “I understand, and it’s a big ask, but I have no option but to ask you. An innocent man may go to prison, it’s my job to prevent it if I can.”

  “I will think about it.”

  “We’re here until Friday,” said Imogen, “If you can let us know before so we can prepare the affidavit.”

  “I will, I just need some time.”

  “Thank you for considering it,” Bernadette told her.

  “You are welcome,” said Anh.

  “Is there anything else?” Damsa asked them.

  “No, thank you for giving us your time.”

  “I’ll call a taxi,” said Imogen pulling out her phone.

  The taxi arrived promptly, and they said goodbye to the women and Damsa who said she would be in touch.

  “Do you think there’s a chance?” Imogen said as the taxi headed back to their hotel.

  “There’s always a chance, yes. If it’s a good one, I don’t know,” said Bernadette frankly.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

  “Let’s prep an affidavit when we get back, just in case.”

  “Good plan, the girls will be out anyway. God knows how much Eve is spending, I dread to think.”

  “I guess you are going to have to get used to it.”

  “I know.”

  “But otherwise things are… OK?” Bernadette wondered.

  “Yes, they have been so far. I gave her a fair warning in the car, and she won’t get another one,” Imogen said pursing her lips.

  “It sounds as if you want her to misbehave.”

  “Sometimes I’m just itching to give her a spanking, something drives me to it, I must be a terrible person underneath it all.”

  “I understand, and you’re not, stop it.”

  “Do you?”

  “The same thing which drives Eve to want Shibari.” Bernadette shrugged.

  “I think D’Arcy has the same drive, she pushes me when she really wants me to be firm with her, I’m sure of it, perhaps she craves it too,” said Imogen pondering things a bit further.

  “Well, you two are matched, otherwise it wouldn’t work would it?”

  “Yes, you’re right.”

  “If you need us to get out of the way, for a bit, you know, just suggest we go for a swim,” Bernadette said, thinking if Imogen and D’Arcy wanted to play their games then it would be best done in private.

  “Oh, I doubt I’ll need the paddle this holiday, I only brought it for a joke, to keep her in line,” Imogen laughed.

  ✽✽✽

  They returned to the suite and as predicted, Eve and D’Arcy were not there. They ordered some lunch from the butler whose name was Jackson. He was a middle aged rather portly gentleman with grey hair, a pleasant demeanour and excellent manners, who had apparently been to Butler school to learn his trade. They both chose burgers with fries and salad.

  “Oh my God,” said Imogen, biting into hers, “This is just, heaven, absolute heaven.”

  “Yes, too right, I suppose it’s alright to indulge ourselves, after all, we don’t do this every day,” said Bernadette feeling a little guilty.

  “Of course, come on, darling, who gets to do this every day?”

  “You’re right, let’s just enjoy it.”

  When they had finished, Imogen sat writing the affidavit for Anh. Bernadette checked up on her emails and worked on some of the other cases they had on the go. When Imogen had finished, Bernadette looked over the affidavit which was fairly simple in content. It stated how Anh had come to Ireland and what happened there, how they were put onto the truck at the depot, and that she did not recognise Callum. To Anh’s knowledge, he was not one of the people involved.

  “If she signs this, it will be a good thing, but it would be far better if she would be a witness on the stand,” said Bernadette once she had read it.

  Imogen seemed unconvinced herself, even though she had written it.

  “Do you really think it will help our case? I mean, it’s just her recollection of what happened. The prosecution will negate it. They’ll say just because she didn’t see him, doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. If she is on the stand then they’ll push her to say she can’t know for sure”

  “Of course, they will, darling, but what has she got to lose by telling the truth? Far more than their own witness and we are going to crucify him.”

  “Will we?”

  “Yes, have faith in me, my love, we are going to take him down. I am damned if Callum is going to prison for something he didn’t do. For the sake of a weaselling liar.”

  “You don’t know he’s a weasel,” Imogen laughed.

  “I do, he is, I’ve met people like him and even if I haven’t met… him. I know them, they are the lowest of the low, they would turn their own mother into the law if it saved their own damn skin. No fuck it, Imogen. I don’t precisely know how we can win this, but we have to.”

  “There’s another reason,” Imogen said seriously.

  “What?”

  “He’s one of us, he’s gay.”

  Bernadette laughed in surprise. “That’s true though there are gay criminals too, but Callum is no criminal.”

  “We should look after our own.”

  “You know not long ago you were questioning if you were really gay…” Bernadette said, recalling how Imogen was in two minds about her sexuality for a long while.

  “Oh… I know, but it’s because I had to come to terms with it myself. I had to understand why I’d been with men if I was gay.”

  “You may be bisexual after all?” Bernadette cocked an eyebrow.

  “Yes, but I don’t think so. I’m more and more attracted to women since D’Arcy, although of course, I don’t want to sleep with them.”

  “I know, and I understand. After all, gay men have often married women or partnered with them before discovering their true sexuality. They also did it to hide it from society. It can also be the other way around.”

  Imogen considered this. “True, very true. Anyway, I’ve decided
I’m gay and that’s all there is to it.”

  This was typical of Imogen, Bernadette reflected. Once Imogen had made up her mind it was almost impossible to shift.

  “Good, that’s progress, and what about your family? You’ve proposed to D’Arcy, but I assume you haven’t told them.”

  Normally Bernadette kept out of Imogen’s family business feeling it wasn’t her place to say anything, but she felt it was perhaps time to quiz her on it.

  “Not directly, no,” Imogen admitted, “They would have seen it in the papers and on the television.”

  “Did they contact you?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you think you should contact them?”

  “I…” Imogen paused, she looked very unhappy all of a sudden, “I don’t know what to say to them. They are probably mad at me or something.”

  “Or they don’t know what to say to you. I mean, it’s none of my concern really, honey, but if you love them, why not just call?”

  Imogen went silent for a while. Bernadette ordered up some coffee and let her think.

  After a while, she spoke, “You are right. I do love them. I don’t see them all that much, but I care about them. Also, it is your concern, you are my friend, and nothing is off limits, particularly my family.”

  “Then open the bidding, it can’t be worse than going to court.”

  “Oh, it’s infinitely worse. They are the worst of judges. The very worst. All my life I’ve been judged. Imogen your grades aren’t good. Oh, I see you got a second class with honours and not a first. I mean, fuck.” Imogen made a face.

  “Well, you’re marrying a millionairess and a famous one to boot, so you’ve fallen on your feet this time. They surely can’t find anything to criticise. Besides they’ve got to meet D’Arcy sooner or later.”

  “I know but that’s not why I love D’Arcy. It’s nice and it’s fabulous she’s rich and famous but it’s not why I love her.”

  “Why do you love her?” Bernadette wondered. Although she and Imogen had talked about love before, things had moved on and was intrigued to hear the answer.

  “I love her because she makes my heart sing, she gives me butterflies. She makes me feel special, beautiful, and she is so… beautiful inside and out. She is everything to me, she’s my life. Without her, my heart would break and my very soul would be ripped from my body.” Imogen was quite emotional by the end of this. “Also, she makes me scream in the bedroom like you wouldn’t believe.”