Bitter Sweet (15 page)

13

I got up from the table. I’d reckoned Mike would be back by now and that was beginning to make me edgy. What if the police were at my apartment, or Erjon’s retards? I stood watching the BBC news; it was doing its sports update. I checked my phone. Oh shit, something had just slid into the news; a couple of lines about a man being attacked b
y a woman at Crew Street station.  

Ivonne came into the sitting room.

I tapped at the screen of the phone, looking for more news websites and idly asked: ‘Do you think I’m getting calloused, because I didn’t want to ask Mike for help?’

‘You’re a whole different lea
gue,’ Ivonne said, grinning and plonked herself down in an armchair.

I sat down on the sofa, opposite, and drew my knees up to my chin. Was she teasing me?

‘You serious?’ I asked.

Ivonne crossed her legs. ‘You’re smart, you’re a cool operator. I saw that on the bus, you were working at your best, working hard to save your ass, to get us out of a bind. You’re good at doing that, I couldn’t have done it.’

‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘A moment ago you were getting at me, now you’re pouring on the praise.’

‘Just telling you what I saw.’

‘Two different games, Ivonne. The escorting is all about cold hard cash, nothing else. It’s not glamorous. There’s no Julia-Roberts-Pretty-Woman to it. It’s not a clever witty line of work in which you can show off. It’s the opposite; you’ve got to keep your eyes open and your wits about you.’

‘You got it right there. Couldn’t agree more. But, there’s one big difference, I have fun doing it. I live the moment. Just like you, I have a goal. Mine is my own house back home, and a business doing hair and beauty, debt free and no rent to pay. That’s my goal and I’m having fun getting there.’

I looked at my nails. ‘Yeah well, that’s great for you. As soon as I get my degree I’m out of this game.’

I kept my urge to spit back at Ivonne in check – the itch to find out what she thought of me was stronger. ‘So tell me, why am I not having fun?’

‘You really want to know. You’re not going to be angry with me?’

‘I’ll try not to be, okay?’

Ivonne took off her shoes and tucked her feet under her bum, sitting cross legged.

‘T
ina,’ Ivonne said, ‘you remind me of a Christmas tree with all the lights on – a perfect image. Savvy and sassy with a quick wit, knowledgeable about this and that, never caught without an answer, you know what I mean.’

‘Go on,’ I said. I was used to listening to clients rabbiting on, listening with one ear, giving the impression of being interested whilst my mind was otherwise occupied. Not now, I was fully concentrated.

‘But,’ Ivonne continued, ‘that’s the exterior. Something has thrown you. Don’t know when, don’t know where. You slide around the things that get in your way. You don’t stand up to problems; you make them disappear, giving the impression that you lead a simple and problem free life.

‘And that’s a sign that you don’t really know what you
want. Even that Sports and Exercise degree you’re doing. I’m not sure.’

Ivonne pulled her hair off her forehead and sucked her lower lip. ‘I think you’re studying because something else didn’t pan out. Same with your escorting; you get great reviews, but I bet not all the clients get the same treatment.
A beautiful alluring voice when you answer the phone, I bet that really magnetises the men, and when you’re in the mood, whatever, then you come across real stunning, masterful.’

‘
Alluring voice?’

Ivonne smiled. ‘Yeah
.’

‘You’re  a good psychologist,’ I said.

Ivonne waved a hand in dismissal. ‘Street psychology. Do you want me to go on?’

‘Sure
, it’s getting to be fun.’

‘Ha, ha,’ Ivonne said, shaking her head. ‘I’m having fun. For you it’s all the goal. That and doing well is oh so important. You’re eating the future, not living the present, eyes always fixed on the goal. And there’s the catch, if the goal escapes you then all that effort is wasted.’

Ivonne smiled at me.

‘That’s the fear,’ she said, ‘the real nail b
iter. And if the oh so perfect Tina were to fall, they’re be a lot of people there to laugh, a lot of people boosting their own egos saying; “Told you so.”’     

‘Oh you
’re good, Ivonne, real perceptive.’ I put my hands to my eyes. For a moment I thought I was about to give way to all those things I didn’t want to look at, all the things I avoided by being permanently busy.

‘You okay?’ Ivonne asked, putting her arms around me. I hadn’t noticed her getting up from the armchair.

‘Yeah,’ I said, taking my hands away from my eyes.

‘You’re real strong,’ Ivonne said, looking into my eyes. ‘That you are.’

‘Come on, Ivonne,’ I said, my voice sounding brittle. ‘Finish it.’

She sat down again and looked at me. ‘You think there’s more?’

‘I know there is, but I want to hear it from you.’

‘Okay, here go
es.’ She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. ‘The brick,’ she said, looking at me. ‘That’s what I call it. The brick is the real thing. The ones prepared to give it all, expecting nothing in return. They will love, knowing that they can be hurt and despite that be open and giving. They are not the boyfriend types, useful, there to fulfil your needs, someone to talk, to keep you warm at night. Oh no, the brick is dangerous, and fascinating because of that total giving, and you know in your heart you must do the same.’

I sat with my knees drawn up to my chest rocking slowly back and forth. Ivonne had served up a lot of home truths.

‘I’d always wanted to be a model,’ I said, staring out the window.

Ivonne said nothing.

‘I wasn’t photogenic . . . didn’t look well in print. The teen-dream was shattered. And there’d been a guy. I’d been head over heels in love, completely infatuated, the big love, the one to marry, to have babies with. But, his head was turned, by . . . another model. She looked real glam in the photos with her enhanced breasts, op’d thighs and nose job. 

‘So now you know.’ I turned to look at Ivonne, her eyes big and shiny. ‘Maybe I’d met the brick, or maybe I was the brick that got damaged.’

14

I sat up as the BBC news presenter announced the transfer to the regional desks for the hourly update. The lead item was the bomb hoax. The presenter switched to an interview.

‘I don’t believe it,’ Ivonne said. ‘Detective Sergeant Driscoll.’

Sure enough the camera was focused on Driscoll, his nose looking red and veined. I wondered if he looked permanently angered.

The reporter asked; ‘C
an you tell us what happened?’

‘The police have been following two suspected human traffickers. Today they eluded arrest by making a h
oax bomb threat at Crew Street station.’

‘There are reports of two cars following a bus to the station. Were they involved in the bomb threat?’

‘No, the traffickers quoted the number plate of a car on its way to the station, stating that it was carrying a bomb. There is no connection.’

‘The traffickers were in the bus?’

‘Yes.’

‘Have the traffickers been identified?’

‘They are known to the police.’

‘Is this related to the twitter story about a police officer and a nun?’

Driscoll grunted. ‘No comment.’

Driscoll turned away from the camera. The reporter summarised what was known, and stated that the police were also seeking witnesses to an attack in which a man had received head injuries at the southern exit of the station. The reporter added that so far there was no connection between the attack and the traffickers.

‘Jeez,’ I said. ‘That’s great; next I’ll be facing a charge of GBH.’

‘Take it easy,’ Ivonne said. ‘If they had you on a CCTV camera they’d have given more details. Or maybe you had your back to the camera.’

‘Or Driscoll is playing his cards tight.’

‘That’s a possibility. He knows we’re not the traffickers.’

‘But we’ve generated enough shit to be arrested.’

I jumped up and switched off the TV. ‘Where the hell is Mike? He should’ve been back ages ago.’

‘Phone him.’

‘All right.’

I dialled Mike’s number – no answer.

‘He’s not answering,’ I said, and sat down. ‘Where the heck is he?’

‘Try it again.’

I did and got through. He kept the conversation short.

‘Well?’ Ivonne asked.

‘He says he’ll be here in ten minutes and not to worry. Said he had to do something on his way over and that he’ll explain when he arrives.’

15

As good as his word, Mike buzzed the intercom ten minutes later. I let him into the building and waited at the door for him to reach the apartment.

The doorbell rang. I checked through the spy hole and opened the door.

Mike entered carrying a sports bag.

‘Are you
staying the night?’ I asked.

‘No,’ Mike said, shaking his head. ‘I was listening to the
car radio; we’ve got some work to do.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘At the moment, Tina, you and Ivonne are wanted for human trafficking.’

‘T
hat’s a load of shit.’

‘They will also try and link you to that thug you demolished in the station.’

‘I had no choice,’ I said. ‘I went straight for him, caught him unaware.’

‘I know that,’ Mike said, and grinned. ‘I’d love to have seen you in action. Anyway, it can be twist
ed into assault, probably into assault occasioning actual bodily harm which is more serious.’

‘All because I struck first.’

‘Correct. However, the scary one is the bomb threat. Luckily there was no mass panic in which people were injured.’

Mike put the bag dow
n and leaned against the corridor wall. He tilted his head and looked at the ceiling. ‘The police will follow the bomb threat because a lot of manpower was involved, and it’s serious, because if they don’t follow it up and make an arrest, every Tom, Dick and Harry might try the same stunt, creating chaos.’

‘It was a snap
decision,’ I said, and crunched my teeth together in annoyance. ‘It was that or get trapped on the bus.’

‘Spur of the moment,’ Mike said, pursing his lips. ‘You got away, and that’s why you and Ivonne need to write down your version of events, everything, all the way back to the first contact with Erjon, no omissions, no deflections – the truth.’

‘That will take half the night.’

‘So be it,’ Mike said. ‘And I’ll need your help. In the bag there is a camcorder. We need to record the girls’ stories – their full stories, all the way back to the day they left their homes.’

‘You really think we need to do all this?’

‘Absolutely,’ Mike said. ‘There is no choice in the matter.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ I said, shaking my head.

‘Believe it,’ Mike said softly. ‘I’ve told you the police will have to investigate the bomb threat. And it’s played into Driscoll’s hands. It throws everything on to you and Ivonne. With a bit of spin and
a bit of truth doctoring, Erjon’s activities can be hidden, and you take the blame. From their perspective it’s a clever move.’

‘Would Liz disclose my telephone number?’

‘I don’t know,’ Mike said, and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘It’s best to assume the worst. If Liz reveals your telephone number, the police will have your name, and a record of all the calls you made including any with caller ID suppressed.’

‘Which means they could prove I made the call to the Transport Police?’

‘Exactly. Then there’s the bus driver?’

‘Jake.’

‘He witnessed you making the call – case proven.’  

‘That’s absurd,’ I said, biting at my
thumbnail. ‘All the bus drivers know fine well that we were being pursued and that the girls went with us freely.’

‘That will get drowned out by the bomb threat,’ Mike said. He clucked his tongue. ‘There is another factor: Liz and the drivers know you were being followed. However, after a few days they’ll have had time to think the whole thing through. The doubts will creep in, the ardour of the moment will wane, and they might start to question whether the girls were really with you of their own volition.’

‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘
No. There’s a thing called peer-group pressure. Driscoll can twist the story, embellish the truth and disseminate information making the two of you look bad.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘Yes, and I don’t need to tell you how they’ll do that.’

I crossed my arms over my chest. Nightmare upon nightmare. The police would make our names public, stating that we, two known prostitutes, were suspected of human trafficking.

‘That’s right, Tina,’ Mike said, putting a hand under my chin. He gently lifted my head, looking into my eyes. ‘Every bit of sleaze that can be found will be dragged out. Jake, the bus driver, a man you met for a mere ten minutes, and Liz an unknown voice on the telephone, will their opinions be changed, be influenced?’

Mike cupped my head in his hands. ‘I know you for what you are,’ he said. ‘But prejudice and public opinion are another matter.’

‘I can’t let this happen,’ I said, pulling my head back. ‘Where’s the recording device from Martha’s place?’

‘In the safe in my office along with the laptop. Everything from the recorder, all the surveillance stuff we did, all the texts and phone calls from Erjon’s phone, it’s all been copied and
the originals are in my safe. Duplicates of everything are in another safe with my friend who lent me the equipment.’

‘You’ve been busy,’ I said, giving Mike a hug.

‘As soon as you’ve written down your statements, and I’ve recorded the girls’ stories, that will be duplicated and be placed, separately, in the two safes.’

‘Then we’d better get started.’