by Lee Weeks
‘We’ll change her surname to Wilson,’ continued Robbo. ‘Doctor her birth records, issue a new passport and driver’s licence. We’ll keep her childhood in children’s homes – it suits our purposes very well – but we have her come out of them at the age of twelve and move to Jamaica to live with her grandparents, returning six months ago. She returned to get Archie into school here and because this is her home. She’s been on benefits. She’s obviously bright but a bit unsettled in her life – big potential but finds herself a bit out of her depth at the moment. Life’s changing, new prospects, going solo.’
‘When will you have everything ready?’ asked Bowie.
‘Pretty much ready to go, Sir. I asked the guys in the technical unit to design some special equipment for her and I’ve been told it’s ready so I’ll collect that now and we’ll put the package together and get her familiar with it.’
‘Okay. Carter, you’ll have to keep the appearance of still being the SIO on this case, but I want you to hand it over to me and you concentrate on Ebony.’
‘I think I can manage the two roles, Sir. It will look less suspicious to the rest of the team.’
Bowie shook his head, his face strained. ‘We’ll share the role. I want nothing to stand in our way. Make sure you put her to the test before you send her out. I want her fluent in her legend.’
‘Yeah, I’ve contacted the UC course instructors and they’ll pick her up when she’s least expecting it, make sure she’s a hundred per cent ready.’
‘Can we talk in private?’ Jeanie came to find Carter. They went to the canteen to get a coffee and sat well away from listening ears.
‘I want to talk about Ebony. To start with – the UC work?’ Jeanie said.
‘Robbo’s creating a profile for her at the moment. Can you fix her up with an image?’
Jeanie nodded. ‘Yeah, but I’m not sure she’s the right choice. Not Ebony. She’s too vulnerable. She is only tough out of necessity. She has a lot to learn in life. She has the nice things to learn – she knows all about the horrible things.’
‘She’s had it tough; just like our victims. It makes sense.’
‘Yes, but they had the love of their child, of their families, someone else on this earth to care about them when they were tricked into trusting this man. Ebony is yet to find that kind of trust and affection. She’s never been loved like that.’
Carter looked across at Jeanie and shook his head. ‘You’re wrong. Lots of people care deeply for Ebony.’
‘We all care deeply for her but love? Real love? Ebony has never known it. That’s her Achilles’ heel. She could make a mistake one day. The one thing Ebony has never had is affection. Every boyfriend she’s ever had has only lasted a few months. It seems they reach a point when they’re just not getting what they want from her. And I think that’s because she doesn’t know how to trust and give affection. She has massive abandonment issues. She’s not a whole person – not yet. She has a long way to go. She doesn’t know the game or how to play it.’
‘I gave her the option of backing out. I even pushed her to do it, but she’s determined to carry this through. We need to support her in her choice.’ Carter wanted to reach out and fleetingly touch Jeanie’s hand as it rested on the tabletop but he didn’t, partly because it had a wedding ring on it.
Jeanie nodded.
‘Okay. I’m not happy but I’m part of a team and I’ll stand by Ebony every step of the way. She saved my life once and if I can, I’ll do anything to save hers.’
‘Thank you. I mean it. I can see how much you care and I can tell you I feel the same.’
‘Okay, well to business then,’ said Jeanie. ‘We are a team after all. I’ll take Ebony off to the shops to get a new image as soon as we’ve finished here.’
Jeanie left Carter and went to find Ebony at her desk. They drove to Emily Styles’ house to pick up some things of Emily’s that would give them a better idea of what she was like. The Styles had been warned and had a box waiting for them. Then they drove towards Brent Cross Shopping Centre.
‘We’ll go and get you some clothes, Ebb, and then I must get to Tracy and see how she is. What are you looking at there?’
Ebony turned the photo album to show Jeanie the page.
‘That’s on a caravan holiday with Elaine and Trevor. They told me about it. It was an important time to forge new bonds with Emily. I get the feeling they were just beginning to know her properly as an adult after all the years of her rebelling as a teenager. Sky must have brought them all together. Babies do that, you know, Ebb . . . broaden your view – start making you think about the big family picture. I’ve even had to make an effort to get along with Pete’s mother and I wouldn’t if I didn’t have Christa. Quite frankly if I didn’t have Christa I’d hire a hit man to take care of her.’ Jeanie giggled.
Ebony smiled. She was listening but choosing not to comment. She knew Jeanie well enough to know that Jeanie didn’t expect non-stop chatter from her. Ebony was someone who thought about what she would say. Jeanie was the opposite. She tended to open her mouth, start talking and then roll with it. Ebony often went around to Jeanie’s to babysit Christa. As soon as she’d got her settled Ebony could enjoy the luxury of a warm house, a family home with food in the fridge and Jeanie’s stash of chocolates. She’d settle down to read a book or watch telly. Sometimes she stayed over and Jeanie cooked her breakfast. Often she stayed the whole day then. Pete was a lovely guy: quiet and geeky and so in love with Jeanie. Ebony hoped she could find someone like Pete. But that would involve effort and maybe a bit of therapy to build her self-esteem when it came to relationships. Ebony preferred men as friends.
Jeanie glanced across at her. ‘Christa mentioned you the other day.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said Ebony likes chocolate a lot.’
‘Damn – she must have caught me. Kids are so sneaky.’
‘Yeah, I’ve been told off at the nursery for Christa’s swearing. She says shit when something goes wrong. You forget they suddenly become little mimics. She’s very fond of you, Ebb.’
Ebony didn’t answer – she knew what Jeanie was doing. Jeanie wanted Ebony to get on with finding a boyfriend. After the boyfriend would come the child. Jeanie was a bit of a surrogate mother to Ebony.
Ebony doubted that she would ever have kids. Her own fractured childhood was not a good template. If she did have them they would definitely never be meeting their grandmother. Ebony’s mother was in a secure mental hospital after being convicted of murder. All Ebony’s childhood had been spent watching her back, watching her mother’s moods. Ebony’s happiest times had been when she went to stay with foster parents. Even the children’s homes were better than staying with her mum. But that brought a crushing guilt – not to love your own mother seemed to be a terrible crime.
She turned the pages of the album.
‘She was really pretty,’ said Jeanie, looking over Ebony’s shoulder. ‘Red hair. I always wanted red hair.’
‘Individual-looking rather than sweet,’ answered Ebony as she continued turning the pages of the album. ‘Quirky almost: face like a pixie.’
‘We didn’t get a lot of useful info from Elaine. It’s hard to see how Emily lived when it’s all been boxed up. You can see her style though. I would say both girls were not that big on the new porno look for women or wearing kids’ clothes.’
Ebony turned the pages in the album thoughtfully.
‘Yeah, I don’t know much about fashion.’
‘What do you wear if you and Tina are hitting the town?’
‘Jeans and a top.’
‘Would you wear the kind of thing Emily’s got on?’
Ebony shook her head. ‘It’s a dress. I never wear dresses or skirts. But I guess it was summer in this picture.’ She showed Jeanie. ‘It’s a long sundress type of thing. It’s a bit hippy maybe?’
Jeanie shook her head. ‘Those long skirts were in fashion last summer.’
E
bony turned the pages. ‘Fashionable hippy then?’
‘Have you got Danielle’s iPod?’ asked Jeanie.
‘Here.’ Ebony took it out of the bag containing the personal items they’d taken from Danielle’s flat.
‘Let’s put it through the system here and listen to it.’
Ebony connected it up.
‘Oasis. Arctic Monkeys. Old-fashioned type of rock chick,’ said Jeanie. Ebony skipped forward along the tracks. ‘Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Black Keys, Florence and the Machine.’ Jeanie reeled off the names of the artists whilst drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.
‘How do you know so much about music?’ asked Ebony.
Jeanie shrugged. ‘Always loved it. All kinds. You have to be brought up with music to know about people like Bob Dylan. Danielle loves acoustic, poetical lyrics.’ They parked up and walked into the centre, stopping outside H&M.
‘Let’s start here.’
Jeanie led the way, going around the shop collecting clothes whilst Ebony trailed behind her carrying them. Within twenty minutes they were in the changing room.
‘Try these baggy trousers with these five different tops and we’ll decide a look for you.’ Jeanie separated the different styles of clothes onto separate hanging space in the changing room. Ebony slipped out of her work clothes and waited to be handed the first pair of combat-style trousers. ‘I reckon we go for practical, not too bright, with a hint of feminine about it. Let your hair down, Ebb.’ Ebony undid the ponytail at the back of her head and untwisted the knot. Her hair ballooned out over her shoulders. ‘So pretty, your hair, like soft, black candyfloss.’
‘Legacy from my Jamaican dad.’ She waited whilst Jeanie chose a top and took the hanger out of an embroidered peasant-style cotton blouse in green.
‘Ebb, why have you got a sports bra on?’
Ebony shrugged. ‘I always wear them.’
‘They make you look much flatter than you are.’ Ebony didn’t answer. She pulled the blouse over her head. The sports bra was visible as an off-white cloth bar across the gape where the buttons did up. ‘We’ll have to get you a few bras. I reckon you’re a thirty-four B. Christ, I wish I was that. Mine are huge since I had Christa. It’s taking me forever to get my figure back. I’m going to go to the gym, Ebb. I’ll have to stop making excuses and just do it.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. Christa’s a pretty good excuse, Jeanie.’
‘I know but I’ll have to think of something; I’m sick of not being able to get back into my clothes.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about it,’ Ebony said as she held out her hand, waiting to exchange another top.
‘That’s all right for you to say. If I had your figure I’d show it off, wear some short skirts sometimes – your legs are fab. I wouldn’t worry about it either.’
‘I’m shapeless.’ Ebony put the clothes neatly back on their hangers.
‘No you’re not. Who told you that? Whoever it was is not seeing what I see in that mirror. Just jealous, I expect.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Ebony avoided looking at herself in the mirror. ‘I’ve always been big-boned. My mother always tried to make me look pretty – never worked. My mum was petite but curvy. The opposite to me basically.’
‘You’re athletic and lean but with a proper waist and a woman’s shape. Be proud, Ebb.’ Jeanie could see Ebony was beginning to feel uncomfortable and snatch at the clothes. ‘Okay. Torture’s over, Ebb. I’ve decided. ‘We’ll take four of these tops, these two pairs of trousers, and we’ll pick you up a pair of skinny jeans for the evening. Done. Oh, and some underwear: bras that fit, for Christ’s sake.’
It would be evening before Jeanie could think of making it back to Tracy. She gave her a ring.
‘There will be officers stationed outside from now on – just as a precaution. You know – I’m very proud of you – you’re coping much better than you think.’
‘Thank you, Jeanie. I feel exhausted. I can see me going to bed the same time as Jackson.’
‘What about Steve – is he coming home tonight?’
‘He might do. We have to talk about it.’
‘Do you want me around tonight?’
‘No, Jeanie. I’m exhausted and so is Jackson. We’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Of course. If you need me, you call.’
‘I will.’
Chapter 30
Ebony left Jeanie to drive straight home to spend some time with Christa whilst she got the bus home with her two bags of clothes. She stepped off the bus and was on her way to the local Spar shop to pick up something to eat. She’d been told by Carter to go home and make sure she had what she needed to prepare for going undercover. She had a new set of clothes, and had even had a lesson in putting on make-up from the woman in the Body Shop. Now she was going home to go over the details for the hundredth time. She was already beginning to think herself into another person’s skin, trying hard to imagine the sights and smells of the Caribbean and had listened to endless newsreels from the last few years to make sure she knew enough about what had been going on in the place she was supposed to have lived in. First she’d go to the Spar and get herself some comfort food to sustain her whilst she continued her studies.
A car was parked up across the street as she left the Spar with her shopping. Two men were sitting inside who she didn’t recognize. She could tell it was a police car – something about the way it was parked and where; its colour, the position of its number plate. She was mulling over what it could be: maybe a drugs bust, maybe a hit on illegal workers in the shop. She kept an eye on the men in the car as they stared straight ahead. Then, on some unseen signal, they switched on the engine and accelerated forward just as Ebony got close. Ebony turned to look behind her to see what they were headed for. She was beginning to feel like she might be accidentally about to get caught up in something. Her heart was racing – would they need her to assist? Was she in their way? The car seemed to be heading straight for her. They drew up just ahead of her and she saw the back passenger door swing open. Then her world went black as hands gripped her and she was pushed down headfirst and thrown into the car.
Ebony’s eyes were wide open as she sat in the back of the car, held firm. Her hands were behind her back, tied with a plastic tie. Nobody spoke to her. She could only smell the cloth of the inside of the bag she had over her head. She could hear her heart beating.
They drove for twenty minutes, around in so many circles that Ebony lost all sense of direction. They turned into a place that echoed, as if it were underground. They kept the engine running and she heard the car door being opened, felt the rush of cold air as she was hauled from the car. She heard the car drive away.
They marched her along an open space and she felt the presence of two men. She listened to their footsteps. Ebony felt the air around them. The smell of chemicals. They stopped and Ebony heard the clank of a chain being loosened, slipped out of its hold and dropped onto the ground. She was pushed forward and she tripped over, landing on concrete. A door was closed and her hood was removed. Two men stood looking down at her. They were both thick set in their mid-thirties to early forties, one taller than the other. Both bald. They were dressed the same, almost in a uniform of dark clothes. One of the men was taking his jacket off. Ebony felt herself beginning to shake. She was trying to keep the panic down and her wits about her. She had to stay sharp. She looked around her to assess the situation. It was a windowless room with a concrete floor and bare brick walls. There was strip lighting on overhead, hanging down from the ceiling. There were shackles on the floor, bloodstains on the concrete. There was a sink in one corner. The room was icy cold. Ebony’s breath was white. In another corner of the room was a metal tank up at a forty-five-degree angle from the ground. She knew what it was – a sensory deprivation tank. She had read about them. She knew that inside the tank a few hours was equal to weeks of solitary confinement in an ordinary cell.
The shorter of the two men hauled her to her feet
and pinned her against the wall. He placed his hand in the middle of her chest and kicked her ankles back until she was touching the wall with her feet and then he came close to her face so that his nose was touching hers. It was many years since Ebony had been subjected to an attack like this. As a child she’d been assaulted many times in the power struggle that went on in kids’ homes. She had learnt to keep her head down, to comply, to wait for it to be over. It had been many years and countless blocked memories since she had felt so vulnerable.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Ebony Wilson.’ Ebony’s voice came out with a Caribbean accent. She had known that the trial would happen but even so, it felt very real to her. She had to try to stay focused and remember it was not going to last for ever. They will not kill me, she said to herself. A small voice in her head added: they will try to and break you though.
‘Where’ve you been living for the last twelve years?’
‘Jamaica.’
‘Address?’
‘One hundred and seventy-three Manning Street, Trench Town, Kingston.’
‘Who did you live with?’
‘My grandparents.’
‘What was your grandfather’s middle name?’
‘Levi.’
‘You’re lying. What was the colour of your front door?’
‘Blue.’ Ebony heard the sound of metal grating against metal – the taller man was opening the tank in the corner of the room. The man talking to her grinned.
‘You’re rubbish at this. You must enjoy pain because that’s what you’re going to get.’ Ebony looked across at the other man. He seemed softer, more human. She thought about talking to him directly but then thought against it.
Ebony looked back at the other man. He was stockier, bigger. He watched her and the expression on his face was one of contempt mixed with pleasure in her pain. He looked like the type of man who tortured kittens.