Authors: Keith Hoare
People Trafficker (5 page)
“Then, Susan, you must see Karen. Convince her we knew nothing. No one knows of the money, only Whittle and he’s dead.”
She rolled her eyes back. “Oh yes, it’s down to me again, like the first time I lied about having a CD she wanted and offering to copy it for her. The girl will beat the shit out of me. She was raped Dad, probably put in some brothel and forced to go with loads of men day after day, who knows?”
“You talk as if she’s some tomboy. You’re a big girl, Susan, she’ll avoid you that’s for sure,” he urged.
Susan laughed. “Pushover is she? Karen is no pushover, she was head girl, feminine yes, but I never saw any girl even try to go up against her. She went to judo and kick-boxing and some other place for self-defence. You saw the state of this house after the fight she had with Whittle? Karen can be very violent if she wants.”
He stood looking at her, as he sipped his coffee. “So what do we do? Go to the police and admit we were part of the abduction and took money for it?”
“I don’t know, Dad, I really don’t know.”
They sat for some time, not saying anything, both in their own thoughts. Susan, on her part, had been devastated that luring Karen to their house, after school, on the pretext of copying a CD Karen had wanted, which in reality was to get her there for a meeting with a family-shunned uncle, turned out to be for neither reason. In fact she’d brought Karen unknowingly to the house to meet her abductor, resulting in a vicious fight between Karen and Frank Whittle, when Karen refused to go with him. Susan had spent the next week in hospital. She had broken her jaw when Frank Whittle pushed her accidentally into the door jamb after she’d come out of her bedroom to see what all the noise was about. Added to that, he’d kicked her a number of times in the ribs, broken two and badly bruised the others. Even today her jaw was still wired, and she was in constant pain.
“I vote we go to the police, tell them everything and let’s see what they do?” Susan said suddenly. “After all I was injured so it was hardly a set up on our side. We genuinely believed he was a friend of her family and this was just a meeting to attempt to heal a rift.”
Her father nodded. “You’re right, let’s go now before Karen can get in first.”
Forty minutes later they walked into the local police station and asked to talk to the officer who had dealt with Karen’s abduction. It was a further twenty minutes before they were sat in an interview room.
A plain clothes man entered the room. “I’m Detective Inspector Morris. I believe you want to talk to us about Karen Marshall?”
“I do, but I’m not sure where to start?” Susan’s father suddenly blurted out.
“Perhaps Sir, if you give me your personal details and that of the young lady, who I’m presuming is your daughter, we can go from there,” Morris advised.
He made notes as they gave him their details, then looked up. “Did you know Karen Marshall to talk to?”
“Yes we did know her, well rather my daughter knew her from school.”
“I see, so what do you want to say about Karen?”
“She was abducted from our house. We told the officer then we didn’t know anything, but we did and we suspect Karen knows we did as well,” Susan’s father answered.
“So you’ve come here, after finding out that Karen wasn’t dead, to give the truth about your involvement, before Karen returns to the UK and we come round to talk to you?”
“Yes, we’d like to make a new statement,” he answered.
“Are you sure you don’t first want to tell me about it, before you make a formal statement?”
Susan nudged her father. “Just tell him dad.”
Her father went on to tell the officer about the chance meeting in a pub. How the man, Frank Whittle, had told him that he was a friend of Karen’s family and wanted to meet her again, at a meeting to be set up by Susan. How Whittle believed that Karen was the key for a reconciliation of his and Karen’s family. Susan’s father waited while the officer made more notes then continued.
“He offered me money to arrange it. Susan duped Karen into believing she was copying a CD for her, when in fact Frank Whittle was waiting in the house when Karen came. Susan hid in the bedroom so that he could talk to Karen privately. Then she heard the fight, the screams of both Karen and Frank Whittle as he battled to tie her up and get her to his car. When Susan came out to see what was happening, she got caught up in the fight and ended up in hospital.”
Detective Inspector Morris looked for some time at his notes. Susan and her father sat silently.
Then the Inspector sighed. “Okay, I’ll take new statements from both of you. It will be under caution but I will release you on bail pending further enquiries. Truthfully this is a problem for the DPP. I’m not sure if you have actually committed an offence, apart from withholding information that could have been useful in the original investigation. So you will have to wait for a letter from the DPP, or from us after decisions have been made. I’d advise you to keep well away from Karen, when she comes home. You must not talk to her about what really happened in any way. We may do nothing, I don’t know. But Karen might make a complaint against you, particularly if she knew about money changing hands, then it would be a completely different ball game. Do you understand?”
“We do, Inspector, we’ll not go near Karen,” he replied.
Karen, following her statement and offer to the press, had been ushered into the main building of the army barracks by a woman in her late forties, dressed smartly in a skirt with matching blazer, accompanied by a security man. They went down the main hall and into a room at the end. Inside the room there was a large table with ten chairs surrounding it and nothing else. The security man left them inside alone.
“Can you take a seat, Karen? Would you like a drink, coffee, soft drink, tea?”
“Coke please,” Karen replied selecting a chair at the very bottom of the table.
The lady returned with a glass of Coke. Karen was rummaging through her backpack, but replaced it under her chair when she realised the woman was not going to leave her alone.
Time went on, Karen was getting fed up. “Why am I here? It’s been close on an hour now,” she asked.
“I’m sorry, Karen, we were to begin as soon as you arrived. However, they are all still in another meeting.”
“Yes well, they’d better hurry otherwise I’m out of here. Anyway where’s mum and dad, why haven’t they come to see me?”
Karen’s statement of wanting to leave disturbed the woman. “I’m afraid I can’t answer any of your questions. Let me go and see what’s holding everything up. I’ll be five minutes.”
“Okay… but any longer and I’ll go for a walk and come back when the people I’m supposed to be meeting, have the courtesy to actually turn up themselves.”
The woman left the room and walked quickly down the hall, up the stairs to the next floor and knocked on a door, before entering.
“Yes Miss Frogmort?” a man sitting at the head of the table asked.
“It’s Karen, Sir Nigel, she’s getting fed up and is very annoyed just sitting there. She threatening to go for a walk and only come back when someone is ready to talk to her.”
“Who the hell does she think she is?” Sir Nigel asked. “If the stupid girl hadn’t made such a naive and explosive statement to the press we’d have been able to begin. As it is I’ve had not only the Home Secretary on the phone but the Prime Minister as well. They’re livid, wanting to know who allowed her to make such a statement without us being aware, and armed with a prepared statement for the press. Already questions are being asked around Parliament as to why the government is relying on a young girl to lead the way in the fight to stop the human trafficking trade, besides using her own money? The ministers of course had not listened to the interview and were taken completely by surprise, unable to give any rational explanation, from questions made in the House, causing severe embarrassment all-round. I did ask you to bring her directly into the building Miss Frogmort and ignore the press.”
“There was little I could do or say, Sir Nigel. I could hardly drag her away bodily, with not only the world’s press assembled, but live on television. I’d asked Karen to keep it low key, just to say she felt a little tired but happy to be out. Karen said she understood so I knew nothing about what she really intended to announce.”
At that moment the telephone rang. Sir Nigel answered and listened. He looked annoyed. “No you don’t let her go out. What are you running down there?”
He listened to the answer. “She’s already gone… and you call yourself security. Go and bring her back now,” he said, then slammed the phone down.
“I suppose, by my conversation, you can gather that Karen has walked out of the building, Miss Frogmort? Would you please go and collect her from security, then keep her in the meeting room.”
“Yes, Sir Nigel, immediately, but please come and see her soon, otherwise she’ll go again. Youngsters these days have no discipline or respect for their elders.”
“We will be along shortly Miss Frogmort.”
Miss Frogmort ran down the stairs to the main entrance, stopping at the security desk. “So where is she?”
The security man shrugged. “Outside the main gate with the press again I presume. I’m on my own here, my mate’s gone for our brews, so I could hardly leave the desk and go and get her, as lord high and mighty upstairs demanded.”
She went outside to find Karen, as he’d suggested, sitting on the wall with at least twenty members of the press surrounding her.
Karen stopped talking and looked at Miss Frogmort approaching. “Hi, are they ready yet?”
“Please, Karen, come back inside with me. Sir Nigel’s very annoyed.”
She grinned. “Oh it’s one of those posh people is it; think they own the world because they’re a Sir? What about me? I’d been sat in there for over an hour. Anyway I’ll be in later; I’ve been invited by some of the press to have lunch with them.”
Miss Frogmort stared at her open-mouthed. “You can’t do that! You’ll get me sacked.”
Karen laughed. “I’m only joking you know, lead the way,” she replied jumping down from the wall. “Sorry lads, seems like I’ve upset a Sir,” she said with a cheeky grin. “So I’ll have to take a rain check on lunch. But I am open for offers to be taken out for dinner, and I’m really cheap to feed, if anyone wants to take me that is? Mind you, that’s if they don’t lock me up and throw away the key for escaping.”
Many of the reporters began to laugh, this really was the sort of girl they wanted for their paper and already they were handing her their cards, or ripping a sheet out of their notebook with their name and number on, urging her to ring so they might arrange a night out and dinner.
Once inside and again in the room, Miss Frogmort shut the door. “You’ll get me shot, Karen. Then to ask reporters to take you out for dinner, Sir Nigel will go absolutely berserk.”
Karen shrugged. “I can’t see why, after all, who I go out with is my own business. Besides, no one has ever taken me out for dinner before, apart from the odd family do, which doesn’t really count. Now I’ve got loads of offers, I could live for nothing at this rate.”
“You really are a very strange girl. I’m used to dealing with girls who are traumatised, introvert and as such very difficult to get through to, while you’re exactly the opposite.”
“Yes well, this is the public side of me, trying to sell my story to help others,” she replied soberly. “The other part of my life is private.”
She looked at Karen with concern. “When you say private, you mean you’re having trouble coming to terms with what’s happened to you?”
“I never said that. I’m fine; I just don’t want my private feelings discussed among a load of strangers.”
“We’re only here to help you know.”
“So go and help someone, like I said I’m fine,” she retorted.
In Miss Frogmort’s opinion, Karen had responded too quickly. She had a great deal of experience with victims of rape and abuse. Karen, even if she didn’t want to admit it, was already showing signs of delayed shock and trauma. But this girl was not approachable just yet; she would be as she started to go downhill, but at the moment she was holding herself together.
“You need to think very hard, Karen. Try to suppress your anxieties, your thoughts, and both will only give you pain. No matter what you think now, we can help, believe me it isn’t a sign of weakness to ask for help. Ignore the signs and you risk your own sanity.”
Karen shrugged with indifference. “Thank you for the advice, but I won’t be taking it up.”
At that moment the door opened and four people came into the room. Miss Frogmort left.
“Karen, Sir Nigel Henderson, I’m sorry about the delay but you caused quite a fracas with your announcement. We‘ve been trying to explain to the British Government that your offer wasn’t that serious, after all we’re talking very low sums of money these papers often pay.”
Karen grinned. “So the current bid of a quarter of a million is low is it? Whatever you say, Nigel, if it makes you happy? Or should I call you by your title?”
He raised an eyebrow and looked at her over his glasses. “You are joking?”
“No, why should I joke? But don’t worry; it’s from a foreign paper so our government won’t have to stump up anything.”
“I have to tell you, Karen, the military and the government are not happy with what you propose. We have men still missing, the operation was in a country we should not have been in and you intend to make it public. I’m of the mind to have a D notice placed on it.”