Bitter Sweet (30 page)

41

No phone call came and I went to bed doing my best not to allow doubts to surface. A dream woke me early on Thursday morning. In it
, I had missed Martha’s phone call. I plugged the phone into the charger, not that it needed charging. Then with a mug of tea, I sat staring at the view across the city. I was waiting. I was still waiting at nine o’clock when the phone rang.

It was Martha and she told me to fetch her in an hour’s time and warned me again not to get my hopes up.

I arrived ten minutes early – gone were the days of running late.

Martha joined me in the car and told me to head towards the Sainsbury’s near the motorway. As I drove she explained that I was to meet a woman who’d retired from the business. She’d described Dougal Alexander over the phone to the woman, but obviously the woman couldn’t be sure until she’d seen a photo. Martha also stated that the woman wanted to see me alone. And that even if she recognised the man in the photo, it did not mean she would tell me anything. At no stage did Martha mention the woman’s name. 

The secrecy made me edgy.

At ten thirty, I entered the restaurant in Sainsbury’s, bought a coffee and took a table along the wall, as instructed. I scanned all the people in an effort to identify the person I was to meet. Casually, I eyed up a couple of possibilities.

Ten minutes later, an attractive woman in her early thirties entered the restaurant, looked straight at me and took a seat at my table without any form of introduction.

‘Look love,’ she said. ‘I’m only seeing you ‘cause Martha told me you tried to help the girls and are now being framed. Where’s the photo?’

I took my phone out of my pocket. The woman eyed it nervously.

‘The photo is on the phone.’

I handed the phone over and the woman studied the photo.

She looked up and then stared, hard, into my eyes. I knew if I broke the contact or
if she saw something she didn’t like, she’d walk away.

She placed the phone on the table. ‘I’m a married woman,’ she said. ‘My mum’s minding my little one.’ She patted her tummy. ‘Second one is on the way.’

I smiled at her.

‘I’ll tell you what I know,’ she said, ‘but it didn’t come from me. I won’t testify. If you say anything about me, I’ll deny it all.’ She took a deep breath. ‘My husband is a good man, religious too. He’d be a good man without the religion. Be that as it may. He doesn’t know what I did before he met me, okay?’

‘I understand.’

‘If he found out, he’d be shattered, his world would fall apart.’

I nodded and said nothing.

‘About two years ago the police raided the apartment
, next to the one where I was working. Some low-life scum had started running a brothel out of it. It was bad, real bad. Two of the girls had been trafficked.

‘Anyway the raid took place. I
couldn’t‘ve failed to have heard it. They busted the door.  There were two Johns in the place. This big detective had them cuffed and lined up ready to go when Driscoll shows up. Driscoll takes the big detective to one side. An argument starts. Next thing Driscoll goes up to the man in the photo, takes the cuffs off and leads him away. The raid never got any press coverage. So I don’t know what happened to the other John or the trafficked girls.

‘Next day Driscoll pays me a visit. He’d seen me watching
. He tells me that I didn’t see nothing and I hadn’t heard nothing. And that if one word were to get out, he’d make my life hell.’

The woman gave me another hard stare. ‘Now I’ve said more than one word,’ she gripped my arm, ‘don’t you go making life hell for me.’

‘I won’t. I promise.’

She stared at me a bit longer. ‘The big detective is the man you’re looking for. Only caught his first name; Jeff. He was about six three, well built, muscle not fat, close cropped hair and about the same age as Driscoll, going on fifty.

‘If you can find him and if he’ll talk . . .’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I promise your secret is safe with me.’

‘It had better be,’ the woman said, getting up. ‘If it isn’t,’ she put a hand on her tummy, ‘you’ll have four lives on your conscience.’    

42

I decided to call past on my way back to the apartment and not to phone – ending a call is easier than shutting a door. I’d have rather avoided any contact at all and I had no idea how he would react.

I found a parking spot close to Paul’s terrace house. I looked at the clock. Oh shit, what if he was on duty? Since meeting the woman, all my thoughts had been focused on finding out Jeff’s surname.

The ground floor curtains were open, the upstairs’ ones were drawn. What if Paul had a girlfriend with him? I had gone out with Paul on a couple of dates. He was attractive in the way which can be described as the reliable-boyfriend type. He was tall, not dark, but handsome. The spark had been there but not the current. And despite the nonsense which is often trotted out, the sexual current should not be confused with a person’s magnetism or their emotional current. We had not gone to bed together.

However, the thought of a girlfriend exacted two reactions. A weird one of; had I missed out on something? The other was pragmatic. A girlfriend might well see me as a threat and would want to know who I was. If that were the case, her questioning could put Paul off doing what I needed him to do. And if, God forbid, she were to recognise me as the heartless tart, all bets were off.

I got out of the car, crossed the street and rang the bell. None of the upstairs curtains twitched. Paul opened the door and stared at me, his mouth open. I was tempted to tell him to close it and not stand there catching flies.

‘Paul. I need your help.’

He closed his mouth and started to cross his arms.

‘I didn’t do what they’re saying.’ His arms fell to his waist. ‘You were there that night. Do you really think I forced those girls to go with me?’

‘I don’t know what to think.’

I put on my best and biggest smile and continued to stare softly into his eyes. ‘I’m innocent,’ I said, ‘and I need a little help from you to prove it. It’s all legal and above board.’

‘Why me?’

‘Because you are honest. And because time is running out. The trial is on Wednesday.’

His eyes softened. Yeah, he was going to listen.

‘Come in,’ Paul said, moving into the hallway. ‘What is it you want?’

In the hallway, I gave him a brief resume of my version of events.

‘There is a detective,’ I said, and described Jeff. ‘He knows something which could prove my innocence. I only have his first name.’

‘And you want me to find out his surname?’

‘Yes.’

‘What’s the catch?’

‘He worked under Driscoll. But Driscoll can’t know you’re asking.’

‘Why not?’

‘I made a promise to the person who gave me the detective’s name. If Driscoll gets one whiff she’s talked, it will break up her marriage – she has two little kids. And if Driscoll finds out someone is asking he may well connect it to me.’

Paul moved his jaw left to right.

‘I just need the detective’s surname.’

‘And how do you expect me to find him without going near Driscoll’s department?’

‘I didn’t say that, just that
Driscoll mustn’t find out that someone’s been asking.’

Paul moved his jaw again – he needed to shave.

‘You still want to make detective?’

‘Sure,’ Paul said, squinting.

‘Being a detective is all about role-play and being able to lie convincingly.’

Paul cocked an eye at me and rubbed his jaw. I suppose I could have switched the word detective for escort and would’ve been describing my past.

‘Okay, sorry,’ I said. ‘I mean, just make up a story and talk to some of the older guys.’

‘Go on.’

‘I don’t know. Say you got talking to a guy in the gym. He’d been out of the country for years. Said he used to train now and again with a bloke called Jeff and that he was a detective. Asked if you could look him up.’ I switched my body weight from my left leg to my right. ‘How does that sound?’

Paul reached over and put a hand on my shoulder. ‘I believe you. I’ll ask around, see if I can get Jeff’s surname.’ He let his hand fall and leaned against the wall. ‘I was there that night. I wasn’t sure if it had been you. It was dusk. It didn’t connect, you being in that building.’

He lifted one foot and propped it against the wall. ‘The call out was weird. The guy was lying on the floor out cold with bits of a broken cistern lid littered about the place. When he came round, he wouldn’t say anything, not until this little wiry guy turns up.’

‘Wiry little guy? Did you get a name?’

‘No. The two of them rabbited on in some foreign language and then the wiry one leaves. And guess what? The guy who’d been out cold tells us it had just been a dispute with his cousin. Some dispute. He had to have five staples put in his head. And then the next day, once it became clear what had happened, it was decided to pull the guy in for questioning. Puff, he’s gone. The address had some twenty people registered as living there.’

‘Can you describe the wiry one?’

He did so.

‘Erjon,’ I said. ‘The guy who’s done the trafficking. I can’t say anything more, Paul. Not now, not before the trial.’

‘I understand.’

I left with a promise from Paul to phone me the moment he’d discovered Jeff’s surname. 

43

At lunchtime on Friday, Eileen phoned to let me know the appointment with Oscar scheduled for three that afternoon would have to be postponed until four. Oscar was tied up in court.

I was the first to arrive for the meeting. To my surprise the barristers’ chambers were located in a modern steel and glass building not far from the Crown Court. The two floors which they occupied could hardly have been further re
moved from my expectations of wall-to-ceiling bookshelves, wigs, gowns and leather-topped desks. The whole appearance was of a high-tech suite of offices belonging to a trading company. I’d have preferred it had the place met my expectations as this gave the impression of people who knew how to count and put bills together.

Eileen led me to Oscar’s office where I took a seat at the conference table. Mike soon joined me and we did not have long to wait before Oscar arrived with a mobile phone clamped to his ear.

He finished the call and came over, stretching out his hand to me. ‘Congratulations, Tina.’

Eh?

‘On your first-class honours degree,’ he said, shaking my hand.

‘The results aren’t out yet.’

He winked at me. ‘I do the odd lecture at the university and have a few contacts. It’s not official yet.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Well done, Tina,’ Mike added, shaking my hand.

Oscar sat down. ‘Has your friend in the police come up with a surname yet?’

‘No,’ I said, touching my phone which lay on the table. ‘He didn’t go on duty until midday.’

‘If the facts are correct and if the detective will talk, then as you know it’s a strict liability offence.’

I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip. If the detective would talk, both Alexander and Driscoll would be out of a job and looking at a prison term.

‘Now, don’t take this up the wrong way,’ Oscar said, opening a file, ‘we must
, for now, assume that the detective will not testify.’

Damn, if I had to, I’d go and wring the truth out of him.

Oscar separated a sheaf of papers. ‘First,’ he said, ‘the assault occasioning actual bodily harm. Your hard work has brought in some useful material. Lots of glowing reports, all the way back to your first Taekwondo instructor. Two of them have confirmed that in certain situations attack is the best means of defence. The information from the World Taekwondo Federation describes it as a martial art, practised as a sport, combining combat techniques, self-defence and in some cases meditation and philosophy.’

Oscar stacked the papers to one side. ‘All of that will go a long way to countering the
ABH charge.’ He smiled at me. ‘Anyway, you will outshine the accuser in the witness stand.’

He lifted another sheaf of papers. ‘The charge of being a public nuisance. The various bus drivers have made statements. They believe you were trying to help the girls. Belief is not proof. Under cross-examination, if they are called to the witness stand
, they will be unable to corroborate your intentions.

‘The drivers confirm seeing at least one BMW following their buses; however, the two cars were reported as stolen. The thieves have not been found—’

‘And never will,’ I said.

‘Maybe,’ Oscar said. ‘The damning evidence is the phone call which you made to the Transport Police, witnessed by one bus driver and verified as having come from your phone.

‘Now,’ Oscar said, ‘to the trafficking. If we can beat that charge, there is a good chance of the jury finding you not guilty of being a public nuisance.’

I had looked up trafficking; the crime carried a maximum sentence of fourteen years. We had to win.

Oscar lifted the last sheaf of papers. ‘The CCTV footage shows you and Ivonne,’ Oscar grinned pulling out a photo. ‘When do I get to meet her?’

‘After we win on Wednesday,’ I said, and leaned across to look at the photo. ‘The habit is
real cool.’

‘Yes,’ Oscar said, showing it to Mike, ‘and it’s made the police’s job of identifyi
ng her impossible. They know Ivonne had the apartment next to yours, not hard to put two and two together, but they can’t find her, nor can they connect her with evidence to the trafficking.’

‘This photo,’ Oscar extracted another one, ‘is from the Merchant Building with the girls sandwiched between the two of you, their faces clearly vi
sible. The CCTV in Crew Street station subsequently shows you grabbing Yana as you leave the building. Those two pieces of evidence are enough to prove trafficking. Throw in your car being found at the warehouse covered with fingerprints from the girls, and your arrest at the scene. Case closed.’

‘Is that all they need?’ I asked, shocked by the summary manner in which Oscar had reasoned the case against me.

‘That’s it in a nutshell. Understand that, and you will understand the basis of the prosecution’s case and how they will try to prove your guilt.’

‘But what about Erjon? We have him on film leaving the apartment?’

Oscar propped both elbows on the table. ‘The police line is; had you cooperated, they would be in a better position to apprehend those who trafficked the girls into the country. They don’t know who Erjon is. They have his face from the CCTV in the Merchant Building connecting him to the apartment and the girls, that’s all. They have not, however, been able to identify him, nor have they been able to connect him to the two stolen cars, or to what happened at the warehouse. The men who were arrested there,’ Oscar smiled cynically, ‘have been unable to identify Erjon.

‘Don’t forget, the police have, through the arrests at the warehouse and the follow up operations, been able to claim a major victory in the fight against trafficking. Your arrest is part of that victory. And here is the catch: had you cooperated, they would still be no closer to apprehending Erjon. You have been used to divert police and public attention away from the pursuit of the real culprits. Their apprehension can be kicked down the road to join the many other unsolved cases.

‘Had you cooperated, you would have copped Ivonne.’

‘No way.’

‘Oh yes, but indirectly, unwittingly. When you were first arrested and questioned for ABH you might have named her to back up your version of events?’

‘Yes, you’re probably right.’

‘And then both of you would have been arrested for trafficking. In addition, your cooperation would have been seen by a judge in a positive light, leading to a reduced sentence for a crime which you didn’t even commit.’

‘Sneaky bastards. And having been an escort, I was an easy target.’

‘Unfortunately true.’ Oscar laid his hands on the table. ‘Although it’s not liked, particularly by the prosecution, I can still call Ivonne as a last minute witness. No judge will disallow it. But if we lose . . .’

‘There is another problem,’ I swivelled in my seat and faced Mike, ‘and that’s you, Mike.’

He frowned. ‘Why?’

‘You can’t act as a witness.’

‘Go on,’ Oscar said.

‘It’s nothing to do with the case, as such.’ I faced Oscar. ‘I know Mike wasn’t on any of the buses, in my car or in the warehouse. All he can do is corroborate my phone calls.’ I ran a hand over my forehead and then faced Mike again. ‘Your wife doesn’t know about me?’

  He nodded.

‘So, what’s she going to think when you get into the witness stand and testify on behalf of an escort?’

‘Ah.’

I knew Mike hadn’t thought it through.

‘I mean, well,’ Mike said, rubbing his jaw. ‘It’s all fairly innocent.’

‘Yes, you know that. I know that. But your wife doesn’t and I’m pretty damned sure I know how she’ll react.’

‘How?’

‘No matter what you say, the instantaneous reaction will be to assume the worst. Deceit, the trust, the younger woman, her marriage, will all flash through her mind. Then comes the rage. And I’ve seen it firsthand. It turns the most composed of women into a clawing, biting, spitting, howling demon.’

I blinked at the memory. ‘Her first reaction will be to call me all the names under the sun. And believe me, even the best bred know them all. After that, you become the target, Mike. You’ll be asked how could you? You’ll be yelled at and sworn at. And all that happens before you’ll have a chance to do any explaining.’

I stared at the table. ‘If the wife finds out who the other woman is, things can get really nasty. It happened to me. Just after I’d started escorting, even had to move apartment. Got out of the lift. Jeez, the woman was ready to rip my eyes out. Her hands were curled like talons ready to tear me apart. Went straight for my face. I just managed to turn away. Caught my neck instead. Those claws of hers went in deep, real deep, drew blood instantly. Luckily, she hadn’t got a hold on me by that stage and I ran like hell.’ 

I shook my head and breathed out. ‘Are you ready for that, Mike?’

‘If I tell the truth—’

‘The truth won’t stop her from believing the worst.’

‘Mike,’ Oscar said, ‘think it over.’

‘Okay,’ Mike said. ‘I’ll do that, but my offer still stands.’

‘Thank you, Mike,’ I said, and faced Oscar. ‘I’m not going to plead guilty.’

‘I didn’t think you would.’ Oscar leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs under the table. ‘There is only one option. We will use the CCTV material from both the Merchant Building’s cameras and those installed by Mike. We will use your character references and your university results. Every witness will be asked; “do you believe in your heart of hearts that Tina Thompson was engaged in a crime or was she rescuing three trafficked victims and attempting to bring them to a refuge?”

‘In fact, Tina, I’ll be able to tell the jury and the witnesses that you succeeded.’

‘Wait a minute,’ I said. ‘The prosecution is going to ask why I didn’t contact the police at the outset.’

‘The truth, Tina, plain and simple. You didn’t have time. The bad men were already looking for the girls and you made a snap decision to go-it-alone.’

Oscar rubbed his chin. ‘Now we must cover the weak spot in your defence; namely why you haven’t cooperated with the police.’ Oscar shrugged. ‘Alexander may avoid the issue in case you accuse Driscoll of being corrupt. However, if he doesn’t and he asks why you didn’t cooperate don’t mention Driscoll – the jury won’t understand and may begin to doubt your word if you start spouting something you cannot prove.’

‘Alternatively,’ I said, ‘Alexander might try to provoke me into doing just that to discredit myself.’

‘Exactly, so tread carefully.’

‘As to why I didn’t cooperate. I will appeal to the jury that having made the mistake of not contacting the police in the first place, matters went from bad to worse in my attempt to rescue the girls and I didn’t know how to prove my innocence except here in front of you.’

‘That will have to do,’ Oscar said. ‘Oh, and by the way I’m not going to use the film you took with the phone at the warehouse – it will only complicate matters.’

‘Another thing,’ he said. ‘Don’t at any stage mention the word escort. The prosecution will do that, make them look bad by association; they’ll use the word often enough. You must remain the charming student.’

‘And what,’ I said, ‘if I’m asked why the rescued girls won’t testify?’

‘That’s good; the rescued girls. Be positive, the prosecution is the negative. Always stick to the truth, as far as possible. They’ve been trafficked into the country. Those responsible are still at large. The girls fear for their own safety and that of their families at home.’

Wow, life as an escort had been one of always being positive, but with a heck of a lot of lies and deflections. I was rapidly adjusting to the truth game.

‘I thought the jury is supposed to decide based upon the evidence?’

‘That’s the theory,’ Oscar said. ‘Reality is otherwise. The members of the jury are often unable to stop their opinions and prejudices from interfering with their judgement. This is all down to winning their hearts and minds. They must see you as Tina Thompson the student, and not as Nina the escort.’ Oscar smiled and winked at me. ‘What you wear we’ll decide later.’

I put my hands over my forehead. If the jury didn’t believe me? I looked at my phone, tempted to give Paul a text, asking what the heck was keeping him.

‘This is all a bit like flipping a coin,’ I said. ‘It goes up in the air spinning, spinning – heads or tails. It’s all a matter of swaying the jury. The law, the courts and the police become meaningless. ’

‘Meaning is only an idea.’ Oscar pointed at the wall of books. ‘On Wednesday all the ideas contained in those law books take on concrete reality. The court is like a board game with all the pieces set out to play their role. A game in which your liberty is at stake, a high-stakes game, one of cunning and wit.’

Oscar looked at his watch. ‘When we are finished, if you like, we can go to one of the pubs where the legal fraternity meet up for a drink on a Friday evening—’

‘
A
drink?’

Oscar laughed. ‘All right, a few drinks. There, they’ll be laughing and joking, and had you been in court a few hours before you’d have sworn some of them were the bitterest of enemies.’