13
Six months later
Jen was relieved to be getting off the flight. As she exited the plane the Canarian heat hit her.
“Feel that, Gem,” she said. “Proper holiday sun.”
“It’s fabulous, isn’t it!” Gemma replied.
They got on the bus at the bottom of the steps, and moved inside. The whole aircraft began filling the bus that would take them to the terminal, and they were soon packed in.
“This is the bit I hate the most,” Gemma said. “The bus ride and passport control.”
When they got inside the building, Gemma needn’t have worried. A bored man sat at the desk, waving people through.
“He’s loving his job!” Jen giggled.
They made their way to the luggage carousels, and waited for the cases to start arriving. A flashing light and the whirring of the conveyor belt indicated that something was happening. People crowded around the carousels like a swarm of locusts.
“I don’t see the point of that,” Gemma said. “Stand back a bit, wait until you see your case, and then pounce.”
“I know,” Jen replied. “I mean, look at that family there, they don’t need to all be standing in front of it.” Jen pointed to a couple with two teenage children who were all stood as close to the moving belt as could be.
“Pointless and selfish,” Gemma replied.
With that, Gemma spotted her purple suitcase coming around the belt. She pushed her way between two middle aged men, shouting, “Excuse me!” She grabbed her case, nearly crushing one of the waiting men as she battled to lift it and get it back on the ground. She wheeled it back over to Jen, who was in fits of laughter.
“That’s how you do it!” Gemma laughed.
“Just need mine to come through now,” Jen replied through her giggling.
She then spotted her black case, with a floral ribbon tied to the handle.
“I see it!” Gemma said, as she went in for the second pounce. The two men who she had squeezed past the last time stepped aside on seeing her. As she pulled the case back to Jen she said, “Well, they learned their lesson.”
“You’re a pro!” Jen laughed.
“I do that when I’m on holiday with Marcus too,” she laughed.
They made their way out to the main airport entrance; they found a holiday rep holding a sky-blue clipboard.
“Which hotel?” the rep asked.
“Royale, in Playa Blanca,” Gemma replied.
“Royale apartments, that’s bus stop 22,” the rep said.
“Thanks!” Jen replied.
They began the walk up to the bus stops.
They reached their bus, confirmed to the driver where they were staying, and got on board the bus.
“I’m just going to text Marcus, let him know we’ve arrived safely,” Gemma said.
“Good point.” Jen replied, “I’ll message Troy too.”
...
“Apartamentos Royale,” the rep said as they began to pull up outside a large building.
A few people began to get up, including Jen and Gemma. They got outside and waited for their cases. They then entered the reception of the apartment complex and joined the queue to check in.
“Looks like the apartments are ready,” Jen said, on seeing someone being given their key cards.
“Fingers crossed!” Gemma replied.
They reached the counter and Gemma began to speak.
“Checking in, Gemma Party and Jennifer Knight,” Gemma began.
“Welcome to Apartamentos Royale,” the smiling female receptionist began, speaking in perfect English. “You are in apartment 226.”
She unfolded a map. “You are here,” she said, circling the reception. “If you walk past the pool, you are on the back in an upstairs apartment here.” She circled the number 226 on the map. “We are open here twenty-four hours a day if you need anything. The welcome meeting will be taking place tomorrow morning at 10am in the restaurant. Have a lovely stay.”
Gemma took the key cards and map from the receptionist. “Muchos Gracias!” Gemma said, trying her best to say just a little Spanish.
As they began dragging their cases, Jen turned to Gemma. “I’m not bothered about the welcome meeting, are you?”
“No,” Gemma replied. “We just want to relax. I can’t be arsed with going on any trips.”
“I’m glad we agree,” Jen replied.
They found the apartment quickly and carried their cases up the stairs. Gemma opened the front door with the key card, and walked inside.
Jen followed, abandoning her suitcase just inside the door as she closed it.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Jen said.
The open lounge and kitchen were stark white and clean. Bright orange patterned cushions were on two long sofas. Gemma walked to the door at the far end of the lounge and opened the door to the balcony.
“I can see us spending some time out here, Jen!” she shouted.
Jen had already gone to explore the rest of the apartment. A simple bedroom had two single beds and a built-in wardrobe with sliding doors, one which had a full-length mirror. The bathroom was a simple sink, toilet and walk in shower.
“This is just perfect!” Jen shouted back.
She smiled to herself, she felt happy and content.
14
Six Months Before
“What the fuck is this about?” Ali Amrani sat in the chair, his pupils wide indicating it hadn’t been long since he had last taken drugs.
Lisa looked at him, despising him in that moment. He was just another spice addicted low life wasting tax payers’ money in prison.
Liam took the lead and spoke. “We need to question you about a former inmate. We need to know if you know anything about him.”
“What you picking on me for?” Ali asked. “I don’t speak to the filth.”
“As I was saying, Mr Amrani,” Liam continued, undeterred. “I want to know what you know about this man.”
Liam placed a photo of Gary on the table and slid it towards Ali.
“Do you recognise him?”
“Yeah, that’s Biscuit,” Ali started. “Fucking nonce got out ages ago.”
“Do you know anything about him, Ali?” Lisa asked.
“Why the fuck would I tell you lot if I did?” Ali replied. He seemed agitated. However, both Lisa and Liam realised that this agitation could be as much the come down from the spice as it could be from their presence.
“Do you, or don’t you?” Liam replied.
“I hate fucking nonces,” Ali continued. “Didn’t have much to do with him. I think he was from London somewhere, although where he went when he got out I don’t know. Get another nonce in here and ask them. This has nothing to do with me.”
“Well that’s where you’re wrong.” Liam decided he was going to just spit this out. “As that nonce, as you put it, was last seen with your fifteen-year-old daughter.”
Ali flew into a rage. “What did you just say?” he yelled as he pushed the chair away from the table, getting to his feet.
A guard appeared, but Liam held out his hand to stop them. This wasn’t aggression at him and Lisa, this was him taking in some very challenging news.
Ali turned and punched the wall behind his chair, he then turned and spoke to the detectives.
“You are telling me that Biscuit, that fucking sick nonce, has got Nadia? How the hell do you know this? Where the hell is Roberta?”
Lisa decided to speak next. “I appreciate that this is quite a shock for you. One question at a time. You can appreciate how important it is that you tell us everything you know, even if it doesn’t seem important.”
Ali returned to the table and sat down.
“I honestly didn’t know him well,” Ali spoke far more calmly. “I can’t stand nonces. What they do, well it’s just fucking sick, innit.”
The rage started building in Ali again, he made fists and his face began to turn red.
“If he’s laid one fuc
king finger on Nadia, I’ll kill him!” Ali said.
Liam took over, “Is there anything you know that could help us? Was there anything that you may have said to him about Nadia? About yourself?”
Ali sat and thought for a moment.
“I wouldn’t have said anything to Biscuit. I shared a cell with Jamal for a while, and I spoke to him about Nadia. He was from Morocco originally too, so we spoke about Morocco and family. I’d told him that Nadia was better off without me and she had a better life now. He shared with Biscuit after me.”
Ali paused for a while. “This is Jamal’s doing? It is, isn’t it? Just wait until I get back on the wing. I’ll end him. That motherfucker is dead.”
15
Biscuit pushed Nadia onto the bed in the bunk room of the yacht. He sat next to her and ran his hand gently over the outside of the t-shirt, pausing to cup her breast.
“Get your grubby fingers off her,” Mateo said, as he appeared in the doorway. “You have your way and you’ll reduce her initial price straight away.”
Biscuit grinned, “Spoil sport! But I will have her.”
Nadia seemed frozen in terror, it was if she was unable to scream or cry anymore.
“Right, kiddo,” Mateo said, smiling at Nadia. “The boss wants you upstairs in your underwear, so chop chop.”
Nadia shook her head. Words still unable to leave her.
“It wasn’t a question, kid. Take off your t-shirt and your jeans yourself, or I’ll do it for you.” Mateo continued.
Nadia sat on the bed, motionless.
“Go on then, Biscuit, you can strip her.” Mateo said.
A big grin passed over Biscuit’s face as he reached over at the bottom of Nadia’s t-shirt and began lifting it.
“Please... No...” Nadia began to sob.
“Look, the more you behave, the easier this will be for you, OK?” Biscuit said.
“Please don’t hurt me,” Nadia wailed. “I don’t understand why this is happening. Where did Auntie Fatima go? Where’s my Dad?”
Biscuit finished lifting the t-shirt, he pulled it over Nadia’s head. Pausing to admire her pert breasts that he had held cupped in his hand only moments before, he began to speak.
“The woman, Fatima,” he began, “Her name is Latoya, she works with me. She provides us with young pretty girls like yourself that we can sell. And as for your Dad, last I heard he was still in prison where I met him.”
“No, that’s not true!” Nadia began. “My Dad is in Morocco, he’s a fisherman. I was going to see him.”
Biscuit placed his hand on Nadia’s thigh. “You sweet little girl, that is just a story that Latoya made up so that you’d come with her. You’re owned by the consortium now.”
...
The boss started the video equipment. One by one, a variety of male faces appeared on the laptop screen. Nadia was placed in front of a camera. She held her arms over her stomach and her breasts, feeling exposed in her underwear.
As she looked at the screen, Nadia could see several faces look at her, their eyes full of desire as they admired her exposed flesh.
The boss began to speak, "We will start the bidding for this untouched mixed-race girl. I know she's a bit old for some of your tastes, but she is a pure specimen. She is a virgin.”
Nadia shuffled uncomfortably as she watched the men look at her.
"How old is she?" a Middle Eastern looking man asked.
The boss looked at him and replied, "She's 15."
"I could legally marry her at that age!" the man replied. "Call me back when you get someone more appropriate, this one is a joke."
The man disappeared from view on the screen, leaving the video conference.
"I can see our Iranian friend no longer wants to take part in this bidding process. However, I trust the rest of you gentleman will be more interested." The boss paused before saying, "Let's start the bidding at two thousand US dollars.”
A hand went up in one of the windows.
“Excellent,” the boss said. “Now, do I see two thousand five hundred?”
Nadia watched as man after man placed their hands in the air. The terror she felt made her stomach go into spasm, a physical manifestation of the fear she felt.
The bidding ended at seven thousand dollars. She looked at the winning man on the screen. He was pale skinned and spoke in a Russian accent. She guessed that he was older than her stepdad. He must have been in his fifties at least. She didn’t entirely comprehend what he was paying the money for. OK, deep down she had guessed that this was a man who was paying to take her virginity, but the idea was so disgusting, so horrendous, that she couldn’t allow it to sink in to her consciousness.
16
Six days later
Mateo maintained his cool and calm approach as he spoke to Nadia. The teenager had been refusing to eat, refusing to talk. She was weak as she sat with her knees up to her chest as she hugged her body.
“This can be easy for you, or much harder for you.” Mateo continued, “If you comply, you won’t hurt as much. The sooner you understand, the better it will be for you.”
Nadia refused to make eye contact with him, refused to show she was listening. Mateo continued regardless.
“We’re pulling into the port soon. You will then be moved to our ranch. Mr S will be coming to meet with you tomorrow.”
Mr S. The thought made Nadia sick. Why not use his real name? What the hell was she going to do anyway, what did this perverted old man want from her?
“You are quite lucky that Mr S took a shine to you,” Mateo continued. “He’s quite a gentle man, he’s not into rough and kinky stuff. He will bed you in quite nicely.”
The way Mateo spoke was so matter of fact. Like this was just a normal day for him. Bed her in? The words echoed in Nadia’s head. She didn’t want to be bedded in. A real gentleman wouldn’t want to have sex with a fifteen-year-old girl. Nadia knew that it was illegal, that it was rape. Her head was swamped, her thoughts were too much to cope with. Tomorrow she was going to be raped by an old man. But a kind old man. If it wasn’t so horrendous, she would have laughed at the ludicrousness of calling a child rapist a gentle man. Then she let the other words sweep in. Rough and kinky stuff. What did that mean? Were there others that would want to do those kinds of things to her?
Nadia briefly thought of her Mum, but the thought was just too painful. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have believed that woman who called herself Fatima was her Auntie? How could she have been so naïve?
“Nadia? Are you listening to me?” Mateo asked. “Look kid, you’ll get used to this life, I’m just trying to make it easier for you.”
Nadia continued to stare downwards; she would not make eye contact. She shrugged her shoulders, enough of a reaction to show she had listened.
...
The boat pulled into a small marina. Biscuit came and got Nadia.
“We’re here.” he said.
He grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her to her feet.
“Move it, Sunshine,” he said, the aggression evident in his voice.
Nadia forced back the tears as she reluctantly walked with him.
As they got to the deck, the Moroccan heat hit her. Her eyes squinted in the sunlight as she tried to get her bearings, a result of too many days in a dimly lit cabin.
She could see a limousine at the end of a jetty.
“Excellent, our carriage awaits.” the boss said.
Mateo got into the passenger seat in the front of the limo. The boss got into the back. Biscuit forced Nadia into the back of the limo and climbed in behind her.
Already in the back of the limo was a muscular man and a young Asian girl. The girl looked no older than ten or eleven. Her hair was messy and her face was tear stained.
Nadia didn’t want to make eye contact with the girl, she half looked at her and saw that the girl wasn’t making eye contact with her either. There was something in her eyes that terrified Nadia. It was a mix of
fear and emptiness. Nadia couldn’t believe that she would have perceived so much from looking into another girl’s eyes. However, she sat here, with an intuition that she knew exactly what the child had been through. A wave of emotion struck Nadia, on top of the fear she felt for herself, she felt an overwhelming sense of compassion for this young girl.
“Nadia, meet Mei,” the boss said. He reached over at Mei. She flinched as he cupped her face with his hand. “Mei has been with us for quite some time now, haven’t you, Princess?”
Mei nodded quickly.
It struck Nadia how they were all speaking English. Here was a girl who was probably Chinese or Thai, Mateo was Spanish, the driver looked Moroccan and he had spoken in English to the boss as they approached the limo.
She found herself thinking about the boss and Biscuit. She knew they were both British. Biscuit had a London accent, and as for the boss, he had one of those posh and non-descript accents like she often heard when Martin was listening to Radio Four. How did they all find themselves in Morocco now?
She remembered Biscuit saying that she was owned by the consortium, who were this consortium? She thought that the man they called “the boss” was probably in charge. She hadn’t heard anyone call him anything other than “boss”. Who else was in this consortium, was it the men she had seen on the screen?
The more she thought, the sicker she felt.
She glanced over at Mei, she had her face looking away from the boss, looking at the ground. The boss has his hand up her skirt, his fingers resting between her thighs, his palm on top of one thigh. She sat there motionless.
The road felt slightly uneven as they drove along. The boss and the Moroccan man were having a conversation, this time in a language that Nadia didn’t understand. She heard her name mentioned, and tried not to show a reaction at the sound of her name.
No Escape (Sinister Minds Quick Reads Book 2) Page 4