People Trafficker (6 page)

She frowned. “What’s that mean?”

“It means, young lady, your story couldn’t be published.”

Karen grinned. “Yes, I remember the word now; you did a D notice on some spy didn’t you? But he just had it printed in Australia and you couldn’t do a thing about it? So I wouldn’t take that tack with me. I intend to help the kids sold by Saeed and other scum like him into brothels, no matter what you say, or try to do to stop me.”

“Even if I told you you’re causing severe embarrassment to your government. Questions are already being asked as to why we as a country are expecting a young girl to pay for what is primarily a governmental problem.”

“You mean I should be a patriot, keep my mouth shut so politicians, who have swept this problem under the table for years, because it doesn’t get them votes, can sleep at night? I don’t think so, Nigel, but you or the government could contribute if you want? I’d be happy with that.”

He sighed. “We’ll leave that part of the discussion for the moment, Karen. Perhaps you can tell us your story from the beginning? We will be recording it and also some of the people here will be making their own notes.”

Karen began at the beginning, however at every point she arrived at where she accidently injured or killed someone, she twisted or just left things out. In fact her story had become so farcical it sounded like she’d been on a walk in the park.

When she finished Sir Nigel decided to break for lunch. They called Miss Frogmort back, told Karen she was under no circumstances to leave the building again, and she reluctantly agreed, while Miss Frogmort was given the task to make sure she did as she promised.

Sir Nigel joined the others who’d listened to her story for lunch. “She’s lying, it’s obvious. Does anyone else agree?” he asked as he opened the conversation about Karen’s story, after coffee was served.

James Gulliver, a psychologist nodded. “I agree, she is lying, Sir Nigel, and being very convincing in the way she’s doing it.”

“Can you explain?”

“In my view, Karen’s withholding a great deal of information. Why? I’m not sure; however, she’s either traumatised and is genuinely confused, pushing the horrific times she’s experienced to the back of her mind as if it never existed. But I don’t think so. She’s too articulate and that leaves one other explanation. I believe she was involved in the loss of life of our soldiers and perhaps others, more than she’s saying. If I’m right, and she’s decided to leave her involvement out of her story, it would account for the fragmented explanation of what happened to her out there.”

“I can’t believe that,” a lady from the local Social Services within the camp cut in. “It’s very clear, Karen has been under a great deal of strain. She’s a little jittery about her escape, that’s obvious. But the girl is just eighteen, still a child and very feminine. Girls like her don’t go round killing or fighting for that matter. They go with the flow, attach themselves to people to survive. I see a lot of children who experience violence. A child will try to put it to the back of their mind, even come to believe it never happened, as a means of protecting their own sanity. Karen has seen a great deal of violence both against her and others, she’s also seen people killed or beaten. The girl is traumatised, acting exactly as I describe and how I’d expect a child to react.”

James smiled. “Miss Sharp, she’s hoodwinked you. That girl is cold, calculating and manipulative. She’s been very clever in convincing you to believe what she wants you to believe, which is not the truth. As a man I can see her clearly leaning towards the males of the room. Effectively flirting with them, wanting them to see her as you have, vulnerable, needs to be looked after, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth syndrome.”

“Rubbish, James, I’ll tell you this though, the young girl’s traumatised and trying to protect herself,” Miss Sharp cut in, with obvious annoyance that this man would question her assessment.

“If you are right in your thinking James,” Sir Nigel said, “the point is why? Why is this girl doing what she’s doing? Is she hiding something she’s done, but afraid to admit it?”

“I think, Sir Nigel, as I’ve suggested, Karen was very much more involved out there than she is admitting, maybe she’s even killed herself and the killing has been a form of closure for her,” James replied.

Sir Nigel frowned. “Would you like to expand that line of thinking?”

James leaned forward. “Take the scenario of a loved one passing away. Everyone is very upset; they feel loss and often walk around in a daze, not knowing how to handle it. Then the day of the funeral, the loss is still there but reality begins to return. Why? I’m suggesting that the actual event of the funeral is a sort of closure, an acceptance that the loved one has passed on, maybe to a better life, who knows? Except the mourners realise the deceased is at peace and it’s time to pick their own lives up again. Now take a girl who’s been raped, abused, whatever. She will be scared of the person, hate them with a vengeance besides be traumatised very much like with the loss of a loved one. However, if the abuser is punished, shown up for what he or she is, or even killed, that for the abused is closure of a sort. Karen has closure, Karen has either killed the abusers herself or others have done it for her, so this is why she can move on and why she is acting like she is.”

“It is possible that what you’re suggesting is true. Karen is using everything she’s got to try to control the situation I agree, but either way, Karen will still need help,” Miss Sharp suggested.

“Precisely, Miss Sharp, she will need help. However, as you pointed out Karen is still a child and we all know children can quickly become introvert. She’s learning in her interview how to control a situation. Unless we can break this build-up of resilience we will never get at the truth. It will be lost in lies and counter-lies as she builds this impenetrable wall around herself.”

“Have you experience of this sort of behaviour?” Sir Nigel asked.

“Unfortunately no, and I don’t think many psychologists have, they are extremely rare. If you look at Karen’s situation she has lots going for her. She’s attractive; some would see her as decidedly sexy and because of her experience maybe available. However, she is young, and quite naive in her dealings with men. I have no doubt we will see over the next few days a steady rise in her confidence. She will use every trick in the book to convince us that what she is saying is true. So with your permission, Sir Nigel, after lunch I’d like us to ignore what she’s already told us but go direct into really in-depth questioning of her. Study her reaction, her mannerisms and most importantly her answers. I believe I can get inside this girl’s head, draw out the real story before she closes the door forever. Then I’m certain you will see a very different Karen Marshall, laid bare she won’t be the nice feminine little girl she’s very cleverly portraying, and what she hopes you believe she is. But a dangerous killer, whose words about helping others are a smokescreen to hide her real intentions.”

“And those are?” Sir Nigel asked.

“To find and kill everyone who took part in her abduction.”

Miss Sharp burst into laughter. “You really believe that James? If you do, you shouldn’t be here, your suggestions are ludicrous. Because go down that route and you risk awakening painful memories for the girl. Do that and Karen will end up on drugs for the rest of her life, trying to stop the nightmares of a particularly violent and abusive experience for any child.”

He shrugged. “Possibly, Miss Sharp, but soldiers are missing, only Karen knows the real story and she must be made to tell it.”

“You are right, James, do it and see where we get,” Sir Nigel said. He disliked this girl intensely, and had no qualms if, as Miss Sharp claimed, she’d have to live with her actions.

Lucy was terrified, tears streaming down her face. “Please, I beg you, I’ve two children. I’ll tell you anything you want, even do what you want with me, but don’t use your knife.”

“Then tell me where that husband of yours is, before I start cutting,” he said quietly, at the same time sliding the flat of his knife up her body, letting it rest on the back of her neck.

“I didn’t lie. He read the paper two days ago about a girl called Karen, who was abducted. He thought she’d died in an accident. Then he just panicked believing she’d tell the police about him and he’d be sent to prison. He told me not to bother waiting for him, as he was going abroad and never coming back.”

Janssen remained still, looking down at Lucy. He knew when the truth was being told to him. This woman was terrified but she still might tell him less than the complete truth, if she wanted to protect her husband.

“Had he any money?”

She shook her head.

“Then where would he go for some? Has he a family, mother, father, sisters, brothers?” he asked.

“I’ve his parents’ address, his sister is married and lives in London but I only have her phone number, I don’t know her address,” she answered without delay, hoping he’d believe her about Grant’s sister which at least would give him time to leave the country.

He grinned, the oldest answer in the book. He was at his sister’s and she was trying to protect him. “You married women don’t learn do you? Still have some misplaced loyalty to your husband. Well lady, he’s not here, you’re alone naked and vulnerable. When I ask for the truth, I mean all the truth. What is his sister’s address?”

She said nothing.

At that moment she felt the tip of the knife start to prick her right buttock, as if a needle was injecting into the skin. Then as the skin would first resist a needle so it did with the knife, before finally giving, allowing the knife to enter her buttock. The sudden pain was intense. She wanted to scream, try to push him away, but face down she couldn’t get any strength in her arms to do it. Then he forced her face into the couch, so she couldn’t scream or breathe. Lucy felt faint, as the knife sank in deeper, but fought it for all she was worth. He pulled her head up and she started begging him to stop, she didn’t want to die, and she’d find his sister’s address for him if he’d just let her be.

Suddenly Janssen pulled out the knife, stood back, looking down at her. Blood was pouring from the wound to her buttock; the woman was close to passing out. “Get the address,” he demanded.

She tried to stand, but the pain was too much, so she crawled, leaving a trail of blood following her. Pulling a drawer open on the sideboard, but unable to stop it at her level, the drawer fell off its runners, missing hitting her head by inches, spilling the contents over the floor. Lucy rifled through the contents, found no address book and pulled open the other drawer Again it came crashing down off the runners. However, she saw what she wanted and grabbed the address book, flipping through the pages until she found the address.

“This is where she lives,” Lucy said offering him the open book.

“I suppose that’s where he’s heading, and why you claimed you didn’t have the address, is it?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry I deceived you, he’s my husband and I still love him. He’s leaving the country and going there first to pick some money up. I just wanted him to have the chance of escape that’s all.”

“It wasn’t worth it was it? Now what should I do with you?”

Her mouth dropped, he was stood over her playing with his knife. “Please, I beg you don’t kill me, don’t leave my children without a mother and father.”

He grinned. “But if you live you’ll tell the police where I’m going.”