by Ian Andrew
“I’m not sure but I’ve probably taken about twenty or thirty passport photos of men over the years. Most of them looked like security.”
“Looked like security?” she asked slightly confused.
“Some looked young, delicate, like rent boys. Some looked tough, mean, tattoos and broken noses is what I meant.”
She nodded, “Okay Chris, so what’s the camp like and where is it?”
“It’s only a couple of miles from here but it might as well be on the dark side of the moon. Illy must pay off the local authorities for no one has ever come near it. It’s a big warehouse shed that used to be a distribution hub for a supermarket. Sits in the middle of a small wood and has one road in. Has a smaller outbuilding that I think is used for the security people, but I’ve never been inside that. I’ve only been in the main warehouse. It’s like a big open plan dormitory. Split into sections. There’s about twenty or thirty small living spaces. The girls share them, two to a space.”
“You mean they use them to turn tricks?” Kara asked, sickened anew at the prospect of the women being forced to use an open dormitory for prostitution.
“God no. These girls are kept expensive looking. Good clothes, hair and make-up all top notch. Their clients expect top services in good quality surroundings. They do their tricks at hotels and private addresses. The camp is just where they live temporarily when they first arrive. Before they get moved on into apartments or other houses.”
Kara’s anger rose instantly again, “Brothels Chris. Fucking say it like it is. They get moved to brothels.”
Sterling’s head dropped again and he mumbled, “Yes, I suppose so.”
Kara was aching to shout and yell but she heard Tien’s voice in her ear, “Let it go Kara, concentrate on what we need.”
Kara settled herself. “Okay, so what else is in this warehouse?” she asked.
“There’s a partitioned off kitchen and a canteen, it’d remind you of a transport café. A whole side of the place is bathrooms and showers and at the back there’s a set of rooms used for video.”
“What do you mean video?”
“Webcams. When the girls aren’t working as escorts they’re on camera doing private shows.”
Kara paused. Something wasn’t right and she didn’t ignore the sensation this time. Instead she replayed in her head what Chris Sterling had been telling her. She felt her jaw clenching, the tightness in her neck muscles, the heat in her hands that were now involuntarily forming fists. She dreaded asking but knew she needed to, “How do you know this Chris?”
His hesitation told her more than anything he said. “I told you, Illy took us there when he was punishing others.”
“Yeah, I get that but I wouldn’t have imagined he gave you a guided tour.”
“It’s all open plan, mostly. A massive warehouse, you can see everything,” he said, rather too hurriedly. His eyes were looking anywhere but at her. Discomfort, not caused by his injuries, was evident in his face.
“Yeah, I get the picture but the rooms at the back, how do you know what they’re used for?” she asked, a lot calmer and colder than her insides felt.
“I ah, I just, the girls mu-”
“Did you take other photos for him Chris?” Kara watched as his head dropped lower and he stared at the floor.
The anger she had felt before was nothing compared to the emotion that swept through her now. She felt like punching and kicking Chris Sterling in all the places he was hurting. Instead, she just stood up.
“You’re daughter hired me to find you and her mother. I’m going to fulfil my contract and then you can fuck off. These girls that you photograph, provide passports for, they come here probably thinking they’re coming to a better life and they end up as whores. You can call them escorts and say they’re doing webcasts but all they’re doing is being held hostage until they’re of no more use. Then what the fuck happens to them?”
She was raging inside but had managed to keep her voice relatively calm. But when Chris Sterling remained looking at the floor she suddenly shouted, “I’M FUCKING TALKING TO YOU.”
He involuntarily jumped in his seat and the pain that shot through him caused him to cry out. Tien, listening from the kitchenette came in and turned Kara away, leading her out of the room.
“It’s alright Kara. I’ll get the rest.”
Tien went back into the room with an iPad that had Google Earth open on it. It took her less than ten minutes. When she returned to the kitchen Kara was being handed another cup of coffee by Eugene.
“Do we know where this fucking camp is?” Kara asked, her voice still raw with anger.
“It’s about a five mile drive from here, about two miles as the crow flies. Set in the middle of Shield Wood,” Tien said turning the iPad for them to see. “That’s it in the middle of the screen. Gets its name from being shaped like a medieval shield.”
“That’s a big warehouse,” Sammi said leaning over to look.
“I pulled up the street view from that road leading up to it,” Tien said and brought up a second browser window on the tablet.
“For fuck’s sake, is he for real?” Eugene asked.
The image showed the entrance to the camp. There was a five-bar gate across the roadway, supported by two large, circular posts on either side. They provided the base of a wooden archway that was mounted over the road, reminiscent of a western ranch. Beneath the arch hung a large carved sign that read ‘New Start Resort.’
“That’s what he calls the place,” Tien continued. “According to Sterling, Illy has contacts in various countries. He uses them to advertise for these girls to come over. Tells them there’s a luxury resort they can stay in until they get established. Sells them the dream of freedom, a new start. Shows them pictures of some top quality resort, certainly not this warehouse. Signs them up, gets the passports for them and arranges their transport. Says they can pay him back when they start modelling. But of course they don’t get a contract because Yanina doesn’t give them one. The promised dream life disappears into mist. He leans on them to pay back his investment and soon they’re turning tricks. He takes what they earn so they never have enough to get away. The lower-level girls he supplies with drugs to keep them under control. The high-end he simply threatens to cut or maim.”
“What decides if you are low or high?” Sammi asked.
“How pretty they are on arrival. Apparently Yanina puts a value on their looks,” Tien answered flatly.
“For fuck’s sake, it’s the twenty-first century how can they not realise it’s all a con? How can they sign up and get on a plane?” Kara said angrily but she was beginning to feel a weight in the pit of her stomach. Like a nausea brought on by sadness. “That bastard in there and his wife have supplied fifteen hundred passports. That’s fifteen hundred lives fucking ruined over the last ten years. And what’s happened to them? According to that fucker there’s only forty or sixty at most in this shed. Fucking hundreds moved on, or more likely fucking sold on to other brothels and fuck knows what fate.”
Eugene walked over to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “We’ll get Illy and Yanina and all the rest Kara. They’ll not be able to do this anymore.”
Kara swallowed hard, the lump in her throat physically hurt. She checked her watch. It was coming up to two-thirty.
“It ends today,” Kara said and pulled out her mobile phone.
Chapter 34
Waltham Cross
The call was answered on the second ring.
“You okay Sis?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” she lied to her brother. “Are they with you?”
“Yep. Are you heading in here?”
“Not quite. Put me on speaker David.” Kara waited until she heard the background hum of noise. “Good afternoon gents, I take it you can all hear me?”
They all confirmed they could.
“Excellent, I-”
“What’s going on here Miss Wright? I told you I needed you to come in a
nd see me,” Tony Reynolds interrupted.
Kara swallowed her anger and sadness and succeeded in keeping the emotion out of her voice, “I did and I will Tony, but indulge me, you said you were Tri-County MCU?”
“Yes, why?”
“That covers Hertfordshire?”
“Yes, Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire and Herts.”
“Great. I think what’s likely to happen is that you and your colleagues will probably come to me first,” she paused and when no one said anything in response she pressed on. “Tell me Tony, have you ever heard of a thug called Chekov?”
“No. No I don- ”
The soft Cambridge lilt of Reynolds was cut-off by a harsher Ulster accent, “Kara, I’m Matt Sexton, David’s boss. I know who Chekov is. What do you know about him?”
“I know exactly who he really is and that he currently has one person held hostage. I know that the Police in Fulham refused to believe the report of a disappearance and said the people involved were just on holiday. I know that it’s likely Chekov’s going to kill his hostage and I know that I might just know where they are.”
“Okay, give us the details.”
“The place that he’s holding the hostage is near Waltham Cross, just inside the Herts border. But I guess it being so close to London it might be quicker for Tony to request the Met send in SCO19,” Kara referred to the Metropolitan Police’s specialist firearms readiness group. “The place is big, might have some major security in and around it. If you can sort out the necessary force and meet me and my team, then we can guide you in. Do you think you and your colleagues from the sticks can sort that out?”
“Or you tell us exactly what you know now and we’ll take it from there,” Sexton said, a bit too forcibly for Kara’s liking.
“Hey Matt, love your ideas but let’s take a minute. You don’t know where I am, you don’t know where Chekov is and you don’t even know who the hostage is let alone where she is. So, I’d suggest you help me to help you. Perhaps take a minute to ask my brother who I am and what me and my team specialise in. Then get back to me.”
“Wait, wait,” Sexton shouted down the phone. His accent made the words sound truncated and harsh. “Don’t hang up Kara. You’re right,” he paused to check she hadn’t ended the call. “What do you suggest?”
Kara thought that the speed of Sexton’s capitulation underlined how big an arrest Chekov would be for a career detective.
“We have five hours to pull this off. After that Chekov will know he’s compromised. So I suggest you both warn off your response teams and meet me where I am now. I’ll text you the location and when you get here we can run through what needs to happen. Then it’s all over to you.”
Tony Reynolds could barely contain his temper and certainly couldn’t hide it from his voice, “That all sounds very exciting, but you and I need to sit down and talk. Are you just wanting me to arrest you, Miss Wright?”
“No Tony I’m not. But I swear to fuck, you keep calling me Miss Wright and I might not say one more fucking word.”
“Fine! Kara then. Do you want me to arrest you… Kara?”
She was actually quite impressed with how much disdain he had managed to get into her name given the shortness of the syllables. “No Tony, I don’t and if you’ll take your head out of your arse, it’s simple. If you and Matt get me the help I need to take down this prick Chekov then I’ll happily come talk to you afterwards. Guides honour.”
The line went quiet for a good few seconds.
Finally Sexton said, “Hang on Kara.” There was a faint click as the line was muted.
“Guess they’re having a pissing contest,” Sammi said.
“Guess so,” Kara agreed.
After a few minutes the line came live again.
“Kara?” It was Matt Sexton.
“Yes.”
“Okay, it’s a deal.”
“Excellent. One last thing. As well as where I am, I’ll also text you another address. It’s in Fulham. You’ll need to go there and pick someone up. I’ll have them warned and standing by. Lovely chatting but gotta rush.” She hung up before anyone else could reply.
Chapter 35
Waltham Cross
The red Toyota sat alone on the parking area in front of the plumbing office. Chris Sterling’s two erstwhile guards sat in the holding cells of Waltham Cross Police Station. Uzy and Emilia sat in similar cells in Bedford. Anatoly wasn’t with them. Kara hadn’t been thrilled but Eugene insisted that he had given his word, so he’d made separate arrangements for the big Russian before the authorities turned up. And they had turned up. In numbers.
It had taken a few hours to sort things out and move the various players into place. One of the first to go was Chris Sterling. After Kara explained his role in things he was moved to the nearby St Margaret’s Hospital for treatment. He was also put under Police guard and was soon to be under arrest. That had pleased Kara quite a lot.
As had the lack of argument or resistance to her and her team’s involvement in what was coming. Interestingly it had been Tony Reynolds that had been the easiest to convince. That was significant as, by dint of being the senior ranking officer from the correct jurisdiction, he was in overall charge. Kara had first met him when she entered the Police Mobile Command Centre, parked at the heart of the light industrial area, about a mile from the plumbing office. The vehicle was cramped and a lot less salubrious than she had expected but the multiple screens, phones and radios seemed to be enough to control a small army let alone the twenty or so SCO19 operators that were currently resting against, or sitting in, a variety of cars parked in the next street over. Dressed in blue overalls, boots and body armour, equipped with web-slung machine pistols, assault rifles, holstered sidearms, their blue combat helmets resting on their knees or on the bonnets of their cars, they looked more like a bizarre future-tech cartoon of paramilitary forces come to life than the tourist image of the good old British Bobby.
Inside the command centre Kara and Tien were greeted by Reynolds, Moya Little, Matt Sexton and Craig Harrison, the Inspector in command of the SCO19 detachments. The discussions that Kara had prepared for, a frustrating fight with civilian Police against her team’s particular military skills, didn’t materialise. Tony Reynolds had asked her to outline her thoughts. She had. There were a few clarifying questions.
The only real point of concern was if Illy didn’t play by their hoped for rules and simply used phone calls to get the job done. Harrison alleviated that by guaranteeing his teams could deploy mobile jammers around an isolated target like the camp. He had complete confidence that no cell-based phone call would get through. A follow-up check to ensure there were no landlines going into the place confirmed that they could isolate it. Once that had been dealt with, Reynolds looked at Sexton and Harrison, received nods of agreement from both and that was it. Kara’s team were in.
Now, some two hours after that initial discussion, Kara, Tien, Reynolds, Little, Sexton and Harrison sat at the planning table in the middle of the command vehicle. But in addition all the desks and consoles along the sides were now occupied. There was a faint hum of anticipation and a charge of nervous tension in the space. Kara looked to her right, to the two most recent arrivals, her brother and the person he had been sent to collect.
“Ready?” Kara asked.
“Yes, more than.” Zoe Sterling’s voice was flat and hard. A firmness that, along with the expression on her face, betrayed a disgust and fury. These had replaced the shock and tears that had been her first reaction when David had explained the role ‘Uncle Illy’ had played in her family’s problems.
Craig Harrison moved to behind one of the console operators. He tapped the man on the shoulder and said, “Now.”
The operator spoke quietly into his head-mounted boom mic and then waited for confirmation. After a few minutes, during which Kara sat with her hand overlaid on Zoe’s, the operator swivelled in his chair and gave an “OK” to Harrison.
He in turn nodded to
Zoe, “The camp’s isolated, there’s no calls can get through to it now. You’re on.”
“Remember, light and happy,” Kara said.
“It’s okay Kara. I might be a dancer but we’re trained to act with our whole being.” Zoe picked up her mobile carefully, making sure not to detach the trailing lead that ran to a digital recording device. Easing herself back into the chair she sat straighter and breathed deeply a couple of times. Then she raised her head, extending her neck muscles and smiled broadly. Kara thought of a line of ballerinas about to rise and take to the stage. Instead, Zoe punched Illy’s number.
“Uncle Illy, it’s me Zoe. I’ve got great news.”
Kara and the rest had headphones held to their ears so they could hear Illy’s responses. His accent, rounded by his many years in Britain, was nonetheless still heavy with Russian pronunciation.
“My dear, it is good to hear from you. What is this news?”
Zoe took a deep but unobtrusive breath and started speaking rapidly, in an overly excited, rushed manner, “The lady private investigator I hired, she says she’s found Mum, she’s at some resort, health camp sort of thing, oh I’m not too sure what’s going on because she says she hasn’t found Dad but she’s found Mum but I just had to tell someone but Michael’s playing rugby today somewhere in Hampshire and won’t be home till late so I just had to phone you, oh I’m so excited.” Eventually she paused and allowed Illy to get a word in.
“Zoe, Zoe, calm down, calm down child.”
“Oh yes, I’m sorry but it’s simply brilliant news isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes it is. Now start again. You have seen your Mother?”
“No not yet.”
“So this lady PI, she has seen her?”
“Well no, but she says her people are driving out there now. She rang me from her office in Camden. They’re all just about to leave. She said that they have a lead on Mum being at some resort place just north of the M25. Isn’t it fantastic? Anyway, they reckoned they would be able to get her within an hour or so. I just knew Mum hadn’t gone on a plane.”